Rare - Briar Prescott Page 0,44

was what made that one syllable sound so out of place as it slid out of his father’s mouth. Somebody else was saying something in the background. His father replied and there was some shuffling before he came back on line. “Alexander, it’s been good catching up, but something important just came up.”

Unlike you. The unspoken words lingered between them, dripping into Alex’s soul like acid rain.

“Sure,” he said, going for casual. Failing miserably.

“We should do this again.” Wasn’t it nice when your father talked to you like you were a distant relative he met at a grocery store and was trying to get rid of as quickly as possible?

“Sure.” But his father had already hung up on him.

Alex looked down, determined to continue with his ironing plan, even though the childish part of his brain chanted for him to discard any helpful advice his father had given him. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, so Alex was going to continue. Only when he looked down, he realized that he’d left the pot on the shirt, which meant that instead of a shirt that needed ironing, he now had a shirt that needed to be thrown away, courtesy of the big, round, burnt circle in the middle of the chest.

“Shit!” Alex slammed the pot into the sink and stared at his shirt.

“Guess I’ll put that on the long list of things father dearest has ruined for me,” he muttered as he stalked back to his bedroom to find something else to wear.

Five minutes later, Alex was sitting on the porch, waiting for Noah. He’d uncovered a white T-shirt from his suitcase that, miraculously, had only a few creases, so Alex figured it was his best shot, unless he wanted to give ironing another go. Which he didn’t.

He still had time before Noah was supposed to arrive, but it was hot in the bunkhouse. The building didn’t have any large trees in its vicinity, so in the summer, the sun started to warm the house early in the morning and didn’t finish until it set, which meant the place got unbearably hot. It didn’t help matters that Carl was a cheapskate who didn’t see the value of air-conditioning, Alex wandered outside to wait for Noah instead of sweating inside.

They’d seen each other two hours ago when they’d both finished their chores for the day. Noah had passed Alex and quickly squeezed his hand and smiled, mouthing, “Six o’clock.” Alex had grinned back, a ridiculous number of butterflies dancing in his belly as he watched Noah climb in his car and drive away.

It was ridiculous how much Alex couldn’t wait for this date. His first one. He’d never been on a proper date before. To be fair, he’d been asked a couple of times, but he’d always just laughed it off. A date was just a waste of time before the good stuff happened. Or at least that was what it had always felt like for Alex. Not now, though. He definitely wanted a date with Noah, and as he watched Noah’s car turn into the parking lot of the center, it was finally setting in that he was going to get his wish.

Alex raised his hand in greeting just as Carl walked out of the office. The man stopped when he saw Noah and frowned. “Did you forget something?”

“Not exactly,” Noah said. He nodded toward Alex. “We’re going to the city to hang out for a bit.”

Carl narrowed his eyes in Alex’s direction. “Is that so?”

Alex got up from his place on the porch and casually meandered over. “Wanna come with?”

“Yes,” Carl said. Never had that word sounded that joyless. Alex winced. Well, that hadn’t ended like he’d thought it would—with a resounding no. Carl rolled his eyes at whatever he saw on Alex’s face. “Relax. I’m not going to come with you.”

“Carl hates Portland,” Noah informed Alex.

“What’s wrong with Portland?”

“People are rude,” Carl said.

Noah snickered. “They take one look at him and start cracking Paul Bunyan jokes.”

“They’re not jokes. Jokes are supposed to be funny. Those are not.”

Alex cocked his head to the side and squinted as he studied Carl. “I don’t see it,” he finally said.

Carl muttered something under his breath. “Just get out of here,” he said and turned to walk away, but Alex was pretty sure he’d gotten a point in his favor with that one. If he kept it up, he was going to turn Carl into his fan one of these days.

“Umm… if Mom calls you—”