In A Fix - Mary Calmes Page 0,25
home, because that’s what he does.”
Now I was interested. “Do you have a picture of Mr. Foster?”
Leaning back in the chair, he pulled his phone from the breast pocket of his suit, and it was not lost on me that the first picture he pulled up was that of his caretaker. When he turned the phone to me, I noted the softness in his eyes.
The man was not at all what I was expecting.
He was tall, at least six-four, if the refrigerator he was standing in front of was an indicator, and muscular, with dark brown hair and eyes and a full beard and mustache. The smile was playful and warm, evidently candid, and definitely meant for the photographer. Brig swiped left, and the next picture was of him and Brig, leaning on the hood of a pickup truck. Eric’s arm draped over Brig’s shoulder was somehow both casual and possessive. It could have been a picture of any two friends, except it wasn’t, because while Eric was looking at the camera, Brig’s head was turned toward Eric, and he grinned with such open, raw hunger that I understood what I was looking at. The affection in his gaze at Eric was missing when he looked at Astor Finnel. I turned from the screen and studied Brig.
“You look like you have a question.”
I cleared my throat. “Even though I know he’s not your butler, I was still expecting more Downton Abbey and less ranch foreman.”
He smiled and nodded.
“You know, you can be honest with me. You’d have to be blind to miss how your brother looks at Astor.”
His brows furrowed as he looked down at the table, thinking, deciding what to say.
“I don’t care, and I’m contractually obligated to keep your secrets, Brig,” I assured him, giving him a trace of a grin. “Who you love—that’s your business.”
He took a gulp of air.
“You know what, never mind. I shouldn’t have presumed to––”
“Eric is really close to leaving,” he confessed breathlessly. “It’s him or my family and my business, and…how am I supposed to be me without either?”
Jesus Christ. Brig Stanton’s life was a disaster. The man was not only on shaky ground in his business and with whatever was going on with his sister, but his private life was falling to pieces as well.
“Everything is up in the air.”
I knew it was. And I knew he was in a terrible spot. He had a horrible decision to make, a ridiculous one in the twenty-first century. “So basically, you have both Eric and Astor hanging on a string, both of them waiting to see who you choose.”
He shook his head. “Eric has already decided to go, and Astor and I—that was never going anywhere.”
“Does she know that?”
He nodded.
“So she is your beard.” I’d suspected something was off when Brig had first mentioned Eric, when he’d explained the caretaker’s place in his home. And I had believed that Astor wanted Brig, but I was wrong about that. I had her with the wrong Stanton.
“She’s been a real sport,” he said, his voice stilted.
“When is Eric leaving?” I asked him.
“I don’t––” His voice went low and thready as he clutched the edge of the table. “He said he’d stay as long as I was in danger, but––”
“I have a question,” I said to keep him from spiraling, to return us to calm. “Have you actually spoken to your father or the board about the fact that you’re in love with Eric?”
His eyes were locked on my face.
“I mean, do you know for certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that anyone cares besides you?”
He took a breath. “They would ask me to hide him, and that’s not fair to ask of him. That’s basically what we’re doing now.”
“And you know this because someone told you? Or are you making an assumption?”
“The board will never accept me being gay, and neither will my father.”
“But how do you know?”
“I just know!”
“All right, then,” I said with a shrug.
“All right what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I told him, leaning back in my chair, getting comfortable again. “What’s a simple choice to me is not for you, and I get that.”
“You think I should just choose Eric.”
“It’s not my place to––”
“I’m asking your opinion.”
“Brig––”
“Croy!” He sprang from his chair and was all nervous motion again, pacing and raking his fingers through his hair until it stood on end.
“Fine,” I retorted, raising my voice to a growl. “You want to know what I think? From reading your file, I know