looked at Matt, who stared right back and simply shook his head. He was a man of few words because, well, with muscles and steely cold eyes like his, he didn’t need them.
“Sandwiches?” I picked at the cold cuts already laid out on a platter.
Owen grunted as he acquiesced to Matt’s grip and handed over the knife. “Maybe. If we ever get this bread sliced.”
“Otherwise it’s just salad.” The voice came from behind me, where Richie’s work partner in the fire department, Cameron, appeared from the bathroom.
At 6’1”, he towered over me, but Richie had a full four inches on him. He was a cute white guy, muscled and fit, with a typical metrosexual cis-het wardrobe of Tommy Hilfiger plaid shorts and polo shirts, and seemed to have a new girlfriend ever month. Basically, he looked good, but he was as straight as a steel rod. I guessed it worked for Richie since he’d never come out to any of us, though we all kind of knew he was bi. He wasn’t exactly hiding it… we just never spoke about it.
“Hell, no, we’re not having salad for lunch.” Matt grumbled and sawed through the loaf while Owen applauded, and Richie groaned about how he was doing it wrong.
“How are you, squirt?” Matt asked quietly as he passed me a plate.
“Great!” I beamed and took a slice from the crusty end of the loaf.
I tried to quickly move on to smear mustard and mayo on my bread, but I could always feel Matt’s gaze when he was trying to get the truth out of me. He was squinting, and when I met his eyes, it felt like they pierced right through me. I tried out another happy smile, but he piled up his own sandwich and followed me closely to the glass dining table by the bank of windows in the living area.
“What’re you working on lately?” He motioned to my paint-stained hands as he pulled out a chair for me.
I hesitated, laughed, and vaguely floated my hand around as I sat down. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been mooning over my painting of Ry all morning. I’d caught the looks my brothers gave each other whenever Ry and I were in the same room together. It was embarrassing. I didn’t want to give them any more gossip.
He sat across from me and bit into his sandwich almost menacingly, his eyes locked onto mine. “Something for the show?”
Pushy!
Richard whooped and pumped his fist in the air as he took a seat. “The big show! How’s the work coming along?”
“What kind of show?” Cameron sat beside me.
“Art show. Brax is a painter,” Richard replied, but he grinned at me. “The latest article called him ‘DC’s art world darling’.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes as I chewed. As flattering as it was, I hated the way the press billed me as a young up-and-coming star. It was way too much pressure.
“Hey, nice one.” Cameron nudged me with his elbow. “What kind of stuff do you paint?”
“He painted this.” Seb lifted his sweater and pointed proudly to the t-shirt I’d painted for him, an abstract splash of pastel paint on a heather gray baseball t-shirt. He wore it so much I was getting sick of seeing it.
“Wow! Really cool.” Cameron sounded genuinely impressed.
“And he’s got a big show coming up, lots of big names going to be there.” Owen set down a pitcher of iced tea and a stack of glasses with a clang. “But he’s already selling stuff through other galleries and online, and he’s got a huge following.”
I made an annoyed noise and swallowed my sandwich with a gulp of tea. “It’s not a huge following, and the show’s not a big deal. I got it through a gallery owner I met who likes my stuff, just got lucky, that’s all.”
“Lucky?” Richie, Matt and Owen exclaimed at the same time.
Cameron and Seb chuckled at the rage on Matt’s face and the shock on Richie’s. Owen’s eyes were so wide they looked like they were going to fall out of his face.
“Yeah, lucky!” I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t help laughing. “The guy happened to like my stuff and needed someone to fill a slot in the exhibition schedule—”
“Oh, mm-mm, nope! Don’t try to feed to us pure bullshit, brother.” Richie pointed at me and shook his head, then turned to Cameron with his finger still toward me. “This one has the raw talent and the hard