“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Darwin could hear the chatter of voices in the background and it made him oddly homesick. He snorted. It was stupid to be homesick when he had no idea where
home was. It was just that for as long as he could remember—which was admittedly not that long—the four guys trapped in the lab with him had been his only family.
“What?” Ed asked, presumably about the snort.
“Nothing.” Darwin shook his head, trying to focus on the conversation at hand.
“Let me know if you guys make any progress.”
“Will do.”
His phone beeped, letting him know Ed had ended the call. Darwin flipped the phone closed, scowling. It was good to know that Ed, Claire and even the stupid rat had arrived in Colorado safely, but Ed was definitely not the person Darwin had been hoping would be on the phone.
With an impatient sigh, he backed out of his parking space and wheeled on to the main road. He seriously needed to stop acting like a kid with a crush. It was highly unlikely Tom was going to call. Fear had been rolling off the guy in waves, the scent of it thick in the air, filling Darwin’s head until he’d been a little dizzy. Tom’s heart had thundered so loudly Darwin was pretty sure he could have heard it even without his enhanced hearing.
A man that terrified of him wasn’t going to be dialing his number any time soon.
Too bad
, Darwin thought as he turned into his winding driveway. There was something about Tom that drew him, made him do idiotic things—like ambush the guy at his truck and ask him out in the most lame-ass, stumbly-bumbly way possible.
Tom had just stared at him with those big Bambi eyes as if Darwin were nuts, which he probably was. Why else was he obsessing about a man who so obviously wasn’t interested?
Pulling up to his machine shed, Darwin hopped out to unlock the door. It was probably for the best. He knew it was stupid to get involved with someone right now anyway. Mentally shoving away the image of the wind ruffling the dark strands of Tom’s hair, Darwin tightened his jaw. It was for the best.
He just had to keep telling himself that.
Sooner or later, he’d actually believe it.
Tom’s cell rang as he was locking his condo door behind him. The sound startled him and he almost dropped his laptop bag, catching the strap at the last moment before the computer hit the floor. For a panicked second he wondered if it was Darwin, but then logic set in and he remembered the other man didn’t have his number.
Setting his rescued laptop bag on a kitchen island stool, he pulled his cell from its case on his belt. Glancing at the caller ID, he sighed and waited another moment before answering.
“Yes, my darling sister?” he greeted, glancing at the clock. He had ten minutes to get her off the phone.
“Tom!”
He was immediately suspicious. “That was a little too enthusiastic of a greeting.
What do you want?”
“Want?” Anne huffed. “Can’t I call my wonderful brother, whom I adore, just because?”
“Sure, you
could
,” he shot back with another look at the clock, “but you’re not. I know that tone of voice. You want something. Out with it. It’s Friday night and I have plans.”
“What plans?” she asked. “Takeout and a movie?”
He scowled. “No.” It was actually leftover pizza and a cable special on sharks.
He loved sharks.
“I’m close, though, aren’t I?”
“No,” he lied. “What do you want, Anne?”
“You’re coming tomorrow night, right?”
She was sounding cagey again.
“To your engagement dinner?” he asked.
“Of course. I figured you’d kill me if I didn’t show.”
“Pretty much,” she agreed. “I was wondering if you’d mind if I invited someone else.”
Tom
blinked,
confused
and
still
suspicious. “Someone else? It’s
your
party.
You can invite however many people you’d like. What does that have to do with me?”
Even as he said the words, an unpleasant suspicion crept into his brain.
“Well…” She dragged out the word.
“Remember that accountant I told you about?”
“No.”
“Sure you do,” Anne contradicted. “My new accountant, Yancy? I’m sure I mentioned him to you.”
“I’m sure you did.” Glancing at the clock again, Tom sighed. He was never going to get Anne off the phone in time. “I probably wasn’t listening. Can you blame me? I mean, Christ, you were talking about your accountant. Whose name is Yancy, by the way.”
“But he’s really nice,” she protested, and Tom rolled his eyes. “Plus he’s cute in kind of a nerdy, can’t-really-dress sort of way.”
“Anne.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to come to a point,” Tom said with exaggerated patience. “I’m going to be late.”
She snorted. “Just press ‘pause’, dumbass.
To be late, you have to actually
go out somewhere.”
“Anne.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “I’m thinking about asking Yancy to the dinner tomorrow.”
Tom eyed the kitchen wall and debated thumping his head against it a few times.
“Why? You’re engaged. You don’t have to date anymore. Well, you don’t have to date anyone except Quinn anymore.”
“No, dummy,” she corrected. “Yancy’s gay.”
Pounding his head against the wall was looking more and more appealing. “Don’t set me up, Anne.”
“But he’s so ni—”
“No.”
There were a few seconds of silence. He could imagine her mentally regrouping, preparing for the next line of attack. “I’m not really setting you up,” she finally said in much too reasonable a tone.
“Sounds like a setup to me,” he said.
“Like a setup to a miserable, awkward evening sitting next to an accountant named Yancy.”
“Just because you’re both at the dinner doesn’t make it a setup.” Now she was using her soothing therapist tone. “If you happen to hit it off, that’s great. If not, you don’t even have to talk to him.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, Tom pressed the phone so hard against his ear he could hear the echo of his heartbeat. “Anne, I’m fine. You don’t have to find dates for me.”
“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically. “Because you’re doing so great finding dates on your own.”
“I’m doing okay,” he lied, stung.
“Right. So you’re not about to plop down on the couch alone on a Friday night again?”
At his silence, she continued. “You can’t let one bad thing that happened to you rule your life. It’s been almost six months, Tom.
It’s time to get back out there. I mean, aren’t you sick of just doing your own hand?”
“Jesus, Anne!” he protested. “You’re my sister
. Don’t talk about shit like that. It sounds so…wrong coming from you.”
“What?” she asked, laughing. “You think I don’t—”
“Stop!” he ordered. “Any more TMI and I’m hanging up.”
“Fine, I’ll stop.” She paused. “So about Yancy…”
My sister’s a fucking bulldog.
“I’m already bringing a date tomorrow.”
As soon as the lie left his mouth, Tom wanted to take it back. Why the fuck had he said that?
“Sure, whatever,” Anne said, obviously not believing him. “Just give Yancy a chance, Tom. He’s nice and stable and has a good job —why won’t you just
talk
to him?”
The way she completely blew off his excuse, even though it was a total lie, irritated him. “I told you. I have a date already.”
“You do not.”
“Do too.” He winced. Here he was, almost thirty, and a conversation with his sister made him regress back to his five-year-old self. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes,” she said baldly.
“Fine,” he said, still not knowing what t h e
hell
he was doing with this made-up story. “You’ll see tomorrow. If you invite Yancy, then you’ll need to find him a different date, because I’ll be occupied.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yeah-huh.”
“What’s his name then?” she challenged.
He hesitated. “Darwin.” It was the first name to pop into his head, but just saying it out loud brought back a surge of residual panic left over from their meeting three days before.
“Liar,” Anne accused, bringing his attention back to the current conversation.
“What kind of a name is
Darwin
?”
“The kind belonging to my date for tomorrow night.” The knowledge that the yawning pit of lies he was digging for himself was getting deeper and deeper poked at him, but Tom shoved it away. He couldn’t back down now, or he’d end up spending the following endless evening sitting next to an accountant named Yancy who couldn’t dress himself.
“Why haven’t you ever mentioned him then?” she demanded.
“We just met recently,” he shot back, a little proud he’d been able to keep up the pretense this long. Usually Anne could roll right over him in an argument. Ever since they were kids, she’d almost always gotten her way.
“Where’d you meet this Darwin?”
Although she still sounded skeptical, her tone wasn’t as sure as it had been a few minutes before.
Tom grinned. Winning was fun. “During a site visit. He works construction.”
“What does he look like?” He could tell she was actually starting to believe him.
“He’s a big guy,” Tom said slowly, trying to ignore a shiver of panic at the thought of Darwin. “Blond.”
“You’re seriously bringing this guy tomorrow night? As your date?” she asked.
“He’s not going to turn out to be a blow-up doll or invisible friend or anything, is he?”
“He’s a real guy—flesh and blood, I promise.”
And muscle and bone and skin, all bound together in one terrifyingly beautiful package.
Tom shook off the thought and the panic that came with it.
“Well, I guess I’ll meet him tomorrow night then.” Anne paused, then added, “If this is all a ploy to get out of meeting Yancy, I’m going to kick your ass, Tommy.”
“Of course it’s not.” Tom closed his eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait to see you both. Bye.”
Even after Anne ended the call, Tom still held his phone to his face.
How the fuck was he supposed to get himself out of this mess?
*
He never did get to watch any of the shark show.
Instead, he spent the evening staring at his cell phone. Tom knew he had two options—face Anne’s scorn, triumph and pity at the dinner the following night, or call Darwin. He’d gone out to his truck and retrieved the crumpled ball of paper with the guy’s number, but he hadn’t been able to get to the part where he actually dialed.
“You’re such a chicken,” he muttered to himself, reaching out a hand and giving the corner of his phone a little push so it spun in a circle on his granite countertop. “He seemed perfectly nice. Plus there will be a ton of people there. What could possibly go wrong?”
Logic wasn’t working. His hand still refused to pick up the phone and dial.
His cell rang, startling him so badly he almost fell off his stool. Tom’s hand fumbled to grab the phone, sending it skidding toward the edge of the counter. He managed to grab it right before it plunged to the floor.
Flustered, he didn’t check the caller ID
before answering.
“Hello?”
“Tom,” a too-familiar voice purred.
Tom rested his forehead on the heel of his hand. This was perfect. All the evening had been missing was his asshole of an ex.
“What do you want, Andy?” Usually he tried to be a little more tactful but Tom was flat out of patience and tact.
There was a short pause before Andrew spoke again. “I was just calling to see how you were doing, but if you don’t want to talk to me…”
Tom sighed. “Sorry. It’s just not a good time.” A touch of guilt made him add, “I’m having a bad night.”
“Tell me about it,” Andy groaned, and Tom closed his eyes for a moment. “Guess what happened to me this morning?”
“Really, Andy,” Tom said through gritted teeth. “It’s a bad time. Really, really bad. I’ll call you back later.”
As if Tom hadn’t even said a word, Andy continued his story. “Mickey moved out.
Just packed up and left.”
“Who’d you cheat on him with?” Tom asked.
With an offended huff, Andy asked, “Why do you have to assume it was
my fault? Mickey’s no angel.”
“Fine.” He was zero for two in getting annoying people off the phone tonight.
“What happened?”
After a short pause, Andy admitted, “Okay, so maybe I did sleep with another guy. But it didn’t mean anything!”
“Maybe not to you, but it means something to Mickey,” Tom replied. It meant something when you did the same thing to me.
Andy blew that off with a noncommittal sound. “We should grab a drink. Talk about our bad nights.”
“No.” The word was out before Tom even realized it. A week earlier, he probably would have met Andy for that drink. He would’ve also ended up sleeping with him, getting dumped by him again and spending the next few weeks and months trying to piece himself back together. Now, however, the image of Darwin’s hotter-than-life form filled his brain, leaving no room for Andrew.
“Why not?” Andy wheedled. “It’s just a drink. C’mon, Tom. What will one little drink hurt?”
“I can’t,” Tom said. “I’m seeing someone.” He grimaced. Once again, the lie was out before he could consider the consequences.
“What?”
The amount of surprise Andy crammed into that one word made Tom very glad he’d lied.
“I’m dating someone,” he said, feeling a smile touch the corners of his mouth.
Fuck, this feels good. I should’ve made this up months ago.
“Someone
else
.”
“But…” Andy’s words trailed away and he was silent for a delicious moment.
“Who?”
“You don’t know him,” Tom said, dismissing the question.
Andy snorted. “If he’s gay and from around here, I know him. What’s his name?”
“Darwin Bloom.” As he said the name, his first concern wasn’t that he was telling a big fat monster lie. It was a sudden worry that Andy had slept with Darwin. Tom’s fingers tightened around his phone.
“I’ve never heard of him,” Andy said.
“Are you sure you’re not making this up?”
Heat rose in Tom’s cheeks and he was glad Andy couldn’t see. “Of course not,” he lied. “You don’t know
everybody
. Maybe he’s just not slutty.”