Shortbread and Shadows - Amy Lane Page 0,19

rabbit-sized droppings, if you know what I mean.”

There was a general laugh from the group gathered, and Bartholomew had smiled and moved toward the tape on the floor that separated the two of them that day. He loved it when Lachlan got to talking—he was funny and unfailingly kind.

“So there we are, just looking at each other, and suddenly there’s a big plop! And it’s my cat, Albert. Albert’s, like, this giant ginger-haired cat, and I got him from a shelter, so he’s got torn-up ears and shit, and I’m thinking, ‘Uh-oh. Albert’s a predator. This could be like worst moments from Wild Kingdom, right? You see that pretty little gazelle, you’re in love with that pretty little gazelle, and boom! There’s the frickin’ cheetah and no more pretty little gazelle. Anyway, Albert and this little black-and-white bunny just look at each other, wiggling nose to wiggling nose, and then Albert drops an arm around the bunny’s shoulders, like this.”

And without warning, Lachlan stepped up to the divider between their booths—not a counter at this venue, for which Bartholomew would always be grateful—and threw his arm around Bartholomew’s shoulder.

Bartholomew froze, hardly daring to breathe. Lachlan had been warm and solid and had smelled like cedar and lemon oil, and God, who wouldn’t have wanted him right then?

The crowd hadn’t seemed to feel Bartholomew’s sweaty-palmed shock—they’d laughed, and Lachlan, arm still around Bartholomew’s shoulders, had gone on with his story.

“And then Albert—I guess ’cause he’s a good guy, right? He starts cleaning bunny’s ears.” Lachlan mimed licking around Bartholomew’s head, and the crowd laughed some more.

“So I’ve stopped working to watch this, right? And Albert pauses in the middle of cleaning this rabbit, sort of making a real intimate friend, you know? And he gives me this look like, ‘Hey, bub, do you mind? Me and my friend got business to attend to.’ So I turn back around, ’cause I’ve got to give my boy some privacy, and I keep working on that piece.”

Lachlan kept his arm around Bartholomew’s shoulders and gestured to the lovely, simply worked candle holder in the hands of a girl wearing a druid’s cloak of gauzy gray.

“So I’m not sure what you’re planning to use that for, but I’ll tell you what. When I came out of the shop, Albert and that bunny were curled around each other like very close friends.”

The girl giggled. “I’ll buy it!” she said happily, and Lachlan had dropped what was probably supposed to be a very casual kiss on Bartholomew’s temple.

And Bartholomew had sucked air in, the touch of his lips against Bartholomew’s skin almost unbearably sweet.

“Will you now?” Lachlan had asked, and Bartholomew, who had been trying to keep his interest tabled until exactly that moment, had stared at Lachlan with his heart in his eyes, and his vast ginormous unrequited crush had bloomed in that very instant.

“Yeah, sure,” Bartholomew had whispered, and the girl had been rooting through her purse at the same time.

“You take cards, right?”

Lachlan ignored the girl for a moment and stared at Bartholomew in absolute surprise then, and had seemed to shake himself before dropping his arm and walking forward to make the transaction, and Bartholomew had been bereft.

Now, with Lachlan so close to him, backing him into the cab of Lachlan’s beat-up blue Ford, that kiss hovering between them, Bartholomew had a thought to what it would mean if Lachlan just sort of ripped his warmth away again. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest in self-defense.

“I remember,” Bartholomew said through a raspy throat.

“Yeah.” Lachlan pushed some of Bartholomew’s hair away from his face, and Bartholomew thought about dropping his arms and wrapping them around Lachlan’s waist. “I looked for you after the crowd thinned out, you know.”

Bartholomew shook his head. “I… Alex came by so I could go get lunch.” Bartholomew had texted him. Help. Awkward social. Need break.

“You ran away,” Lachlan said, his voice so soft it didn’t echo in the garage.

He had. Bartholomew’s shame made him hunch his shoulders. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “You have no idea what it’s like… when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Lachlan’s hands on his hips weren’t threatening, they were welcoming, and Bartholomew forced his chin up to look Lachlan in the eyes.

“Like I matter.”

“I do,” Lachlan said softly. “You’ve been looking at me like that for a year and a half.”

Bartholomew shivered. “I… I don’t know what to do with that,” he said in misery.

“Put