grinned, pulling on the shirt and smoothing it down. “Plus I think you’ll find having one super-stylish metrosexual man in the house is more than enough. If I started giving more of a shit, we’d run out of counter space in the bathroom.” Pat had more products than any gay man Jamie had ever known and totally blew that stereotype out of the water.
“You’re telling me! And he keeps spares at mine. It’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed, throwing a pair of slim-fitting dark gray jeans his way. Jamie shrugged and swapped his jeans out, forgoing modesty in front of Louise. She finished off the outfit with a slim belt and a pair of boots in deference to the rain and breezed out as he was tugging them on.
“Hey, Pat,” he called out. “Where are we even going?”
“All in good time, my friend,” Pat replied, echoed by giggles from Louise.
Jamie definitely didn’t trust that sound. He half tripped out of his room and held the doorframe, watching them canoodle for a moment before Pat unburied his face from Louise’s blonde hair to look at Jamie.
“My bambina,” he cried. “Look at your good work. Our boy looks presentable. Good, even. Perhaps a waistcoat?” he asked, to which Louise laughed and shoved him away.
Jamie’s mind boggled a little. Pat could rock a waistcoat in ways Jamie couldn’t even dream of. “Hell no!” He backed up, hands out.
“Yeah, not really Jamie’s style, baby.” Louise placated a pouty Pat, petting him on the stomach. She pulled on her slim-line camel trench coat and clapped her hands together. “Okay, boys. Let’s go. Nicky is waiting.”
Who the hell was Nicky?
Chapter Two
L OUISE AND Pat had been obstinately refusing to tell Jamie who they were meeting, and his stomach sank with each step toward the pub. At least it was a pub and not a gay bar. They’d tried that before, and it had definitely been fun but in the most cringeworthy way possible. Pat was a like a magnet for girls or guys, and he’d been groped so many times that he’d resigned himself to sitting in the corner and grumbling as Louise and Jamie danced the night away.
They entered the busy pub, immediately enveloped in warmth from the mass of bodies, and Pat headed off to the bar, wiggling his way through the throngs to await the much-coveted attention of the barman. Jamie, for his part, was guided toward a booth along the far wall. He was thoroughly relieved to see a trio of people leaning in together over their drinks, talking over the din. He’d been spectacularly worried this was a setup.
“Louise!” cried the brunette girl. “Did you see it last night?” she gasped, blue eyes wide and her hands making little grabby motions to draw Louise over.
“Oh my God, yes!” replied Louise, sinking into the booth and proceeding to do a scene by scene analysis of whatever TV show it was they were discussing. Jamie shuffled a little and smiled a small smile as the two accompanying men groaned loudly.
“Han, please,” sighed one of the guys. He had honey-colored skin, dark eyes and hair, and his arms and what was visible of his chest were dusted with the same dark pelt. He put a hand over the brunette’s—Han’s—hand to get her attention. “I already had to sit through it last night!” he proclaimed.
The other guy—broad, with wavy red hair—looked up at Jamie and grinned, rolling his hazel eyes. He held out a hand and gripped Jamie’s firmly in a quick shake.
“Nick,” he said.
Jamie froze for a heartbeat, realization dawning that yes, there were six people present, but that also four of those were coupled up. Nick. Nicky. Jamie was being set up. Damn it.
“Jamie,” he replied with a quick little smile. He grabbed a chair, dragged it over to the table, and settled himself down. He needed a drink, and damn it, why was Pat taking so long?
“So, uh. How’d you know Louise?” he asked. Small talk never used to be such an issue, but nerves and irritation were waging war in his
“You’re telling me! And he keeps spares at mine. It’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed, throwing a pair of slim-fitting dark gray jeans his way. Jamie shrugged and swapped his jeans out, forgoing modesty in front of Louise. She finished off the outfit with a slim belt and a pair of boots in deference to the rain and breezed out as he was tugging them on.
“Hey, Pat,” he called out. “Where are we even going?”
“All in good time, my friend,” Pat replied, echoed by giggles from Louise.
Jamie definitely didn’t trust that sound. He half tripped out of his room and held the doorframe, watching them canoodle for a moment before Pat unburied his face from Louise’s blonde hair to look at Jamie.
“My bambina,” he cried. “Look at your good work. Our boy looks presentable. Good, even. Perhaps a waistcoat?” he asked, to which Louise laughed and shoved him away.
Jamie’s mind boggled a little. Pat could rock a waistcoat in ways Jamie couldn’t even dream of. “Hell no!” He backed up, hands out.
“Yeah, not really Jamie’s style, baby.” Louise placated a pouty Pat, petting him on the stomach. She pulled on her slim-line camel trench coat and clapped her hands together. “Okay, boys. Let’s go. Nicky is waiting.”
Who the hell was Nicky?
Chapter Two
L OUISE AND Pat had been obstinately refusing to tell Jamie who they were meeting, and his stomach sank with each step toward the pub. At least it was a pub and not a gay bar. They’d tried that before, and it had definitely been fun but in the most cringeworthy way possible. Pat was a like a magnet for girls or guys, and he’d been groped so many times that he’d resigned himself to sitting in the corner and grumbling as Louise and Jamie danced the night away.
They entered the busy pub, immediately enveloped in warmth from the mass of bodies, and Pat headed off to the bar, wiggling his way through the throngs to await the much-coveted attention of the barman. Jamie, for his part, was guided toward a booth along the far wall. He was thoroughly relieved to see a trio of people leaning in together over their drinks, talking over the din. He’d been spectacularly worried this was a setup.
“Louise!” cried the brunette girl. “Did you see it last night?” she gasped, blue eyes wide and her hands making little grabby motions to draw Louise over.
“Oh my God, yes!” replied Louise, sinking into the booth and proceeding to do a scene by scene analysis of whatever TV show it was they were discussing. Jamie shuffled a little and smiled a small smile as the two accompanying men groaned loudly.
“Han, please,” sighed one of the guys. He had honey-colored skin, dark eyes and hair, and his arms and what was visible of his chest were dusted with the same dark pelt. He put a hand over the brunette’s—Han’s—hand to get her attention. “I already had to sit through it last night!” he proclaimed.
The other guy—broad, with wavy red hair—looked up at Jamie and grinned, rolling his hazel eyes. He held out a hand and gripped Jamie’s firmly in a quick shake.
“Nick,” he said.
Jamie froze for a heartbeat, realization dawning that yes, there were six people present, but that also four of those were coupled up. Nick. Nicky. Jamie was being set up. Damn it.
“Jamie,” he replied with a quick little smile. He grabbed a chair, dragged it over to the table, and settled himself down. He needed a drink, and damn it, why was Pat taking so long?
“So, uh. How’d you know Louise?” he asked. Small talk never used to be such an issue, but nerves and irritation were waging war in his
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