When the squad car pulled to the curb a moment later, Nevin held up his badge and motioned the goons to stay calm. “My friend here is worried about mind-reading satellites,” he informed the officers when they got out of their car. “And the feds are in on it. Can you take him somewhere and get a statement from him?”

  The man seemed eager about that idea. “I’ll make a report! But you’ll have to redact my name. I’m in the witness protection program after I inculpated Governor Kitzhaber for fracking. That’s the real reason he resigned.”

  “We’ll make sure Kitzhaber doesn’t know a thing,” said one of the gorillas soothingly. Nevin had interacted with her before. Couldn’t remember her name, but he hadn’t gotten the impression that she was a nimrod, so that was good.

  Clutching his jeans and muttering about spies, the guy got in the back of the patrol car. The officer managed to smooth-talk him into handcuffs by suggesting the metal might help protect him from spy satellites.

  Nevin pulled the other officer aside. “Go easy on him. He’s sick, not criminal.”

  “Yeah, okay.” The cop looked around. “Everything else is under control?”

  “Of course. I’m here.”

  The squad car pulled away, its lights and sirens off. Nevin turned back to the restaurant and discovered Colin leaning against the wall next to the door, holding Nevin’s jacket.

  “That was pretty amazing,” he said as he handed the jacket over.

  “Did you expect me to shoot the poor bastard instead?”

  Colin rolled his eyes. “No, I wasn’t expecting gunfire. But that situation could have turned ugly, and you chilled everyone out.”

  “It wasn’t that kid’s fault. He’s got too much of the wrong chemicals zapping around his brain or something. Bad genes, probably.”

  “Nobody can help it if they lose the genetic lottery.”

  An awkward silence fell, but Colin broke it by clearing his throat. “I paid already. You want to go?”

  “I asked you. I’m supposed to cover the bill.” He slid one foot back and forth on the pavement. “Look, I’m gonna—”

  “I have a plan.”

  “What?”

  “The sex I owe you? It’s not quite up to one, but it will be by the end of the night. Compounding interest, you know.”

  Colin was so goddamn adorable that Nevin couldn’t stop a grin. “Yeah? So you have an idea of how to keep ourselves busy until payment comes due?”

  After a moment of chewing his lower lip, Colin nodded. “You’ll have to drive, though.”

  “You just wanted another chance to get inside Julie.”

  Colin grinned and they walked the few blocks back to his building.

  Nevin liked being inside the car with Colin. It was intimate, like sharing a bed. “Where to?” he asked as he pulled into traffic.

  “Hmm. You prefer the Burnside Bridge or Hawthorne?”

  “Burnside.”

  “Then off we go, my good man.”

  Stopped at the light on Broadway, Nevin shot him a look. “Are you used to having a chauffeur?”

  Colin snorted. “No, can’t say I am. We’re not that rich.”

  “Fancy cars, though.”

  “I bet Julie’s worth more than my Beemer.”

  Nevin scowled, mostly because Colin had a point. “Private schools,” he countered.

  “Um, yeah. But my MBA’s from Portland State.”

  Which was where Nevin earned his BA, so he couldn’t press that issue too far. “West Hills mansion.”

  “I don’t know that it’s a mansion….”

  The light turned green, and Nevin hit the gas harder than he needed to. “How many square feet?”

  Colin hesitated, then whispered the answer. “Seven thousand.”

  Satisfied that he’d won the skirmish, Nevin snorted. “I bet you could lose my apartment in one of your closets.”

  “Maybe, except I don’t live there, remember? I haven’t since grad school. I mean… yeah, my parents have money. My income’s middle-class, though.”

  “And that loft?”

  “Belongs to Dad’s company. It’s an investment.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Look,” Colin said, “if you’re going to be an asshole about this, just stop the car and I’ll go home. But it’s stupid. If I don’t care how rich my family is, I don’t know why you should.”

  Nevin pulled into a bus zone and stopped. But when Colin reached for the door handle, Nevin grabbed his other arm. “You don’t care because it’s never been an issue. You’ve never gone hungry because there was no food in the house, never stayed up all night worrying how the fuck you were going to pay the bills. Never watched the roaches crawling all over your walls and considered yourself lucky to have someplace to sleep at all.”

  Shit. He hadn’t intended to give a speech. He recovered by making the lecture longer. “You never went to school embarrassed because your shoes were falling apart, wearing hand-me-downs somebody else had stained. When you were in college, you didn’t have to choose between buying your textbooks and paying the heating bill. You didn’t have to walk two miles to campus because the fucking bus schedule sucked. Didn’t struggle to stay awake in your classes because you’d worked all night at a shitass job. I bet you spent all your vacations going on fucking cruises and ski trips and jaunts through Europe.”

  One hand still on the door handle, Colin stared at him, wide-eyed. “I’ve never traveled much,” he finally said, his voice quiet.

  Nevin huffed, let go of him, and fell back against his seat. “I don’t know what in fuck I was thinking. We’re nothing alike.”

  “You want me to go?”

  “Yes. No. I— Fuck.” Fantastic. He was going to have a meltdown right here and now, and over what? He’d been working too hard. He needed more exercise. Maybe he ought to join Jeremy in planting posies or whatever the fuck park rangers did.

  Instead of leaving, Colin leaned closer and put a hand on Nevin’s shoulder. “Trent—my ex—and I? We’re a lot alike. Fancy houses, fancy schools, the whole deal. He really did go on those ski trips. His family owns a cabin in Bend. But I think you’re a lot more fun to hang out with than he ever was.”

  Nevin peered at him. “Even when I’m having a tantrum?”

  “Trent’s one of those people who gets all quiet when he’s unhappy, forcing you to play Twenty Questions to figure out what’s wrong. When he told me we were breaking up, it took me totally by surprise and I didn’t have a clue why he was dumping me.”

  “Because he’s a colossal prick.”

  Colin giggled. “Actually, he’s kind of… small.” He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Anyway, look. This? It’s just one date. That’s all. I think we can both survive it despite our socioeconomic differences.”

  Once they were moving again and over the bridge, Colin directed Nevin down MLK Boulevard, then east on Division. When they got to Twenty-Sixth, Colin grinned. “Do you think you can find a legal parking spot in this neighborhood?”

  “Legal spots are for pussies.” But Nevin did find one, and when they got out of the car, Colin grabbed his hand and swung it.

  “It’s only eleven. Let’s go have a drink first.”

  “First?”

  Colin just laughed and took him to a bar, where Colin ordered a ridiculous cocktail with gin and beet juice and Nevin had a goddamn beer. He pointed at Colin’s drink. “I think bartenders make that shit up just to see what they can get patsies to drink.”

  “It tastes pretty good,” Colin replied mildly.

  “It’s a contest. Each week, the dude who conned a customer into the most idiotic drink wins a prize.”

  “A few months ago, I had one with horseradish, jalapeño, and egg-white froth.”

  Nevin made a face. “Bet that bartender won that week.”

  At eleven thirty, Colin said it was time to go. Nevin paid the tab and they walked hand in hand for a few blocks. But Nevin stopped when he realized what their destination was. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” he said.

  “Nope. You ever been?”

  “Why the hell would I want to—”

  “I wanted to go when I was in high school, but Mom wouldn’t let me stay out that late. So I went in college instead. Sometimes I dressed up as a Transylvanian. You’d make an amazing Frank-N-Furter. Too bad we didn’t have time for costumes.”

  Colin seemed so enthusiastic that Nevin didn’t have the heart to refuse, especially after his little performance in the car. With considerable trepidation—and maybe a tiny bit of shared excitement—Nevin allowed himself to be dragged into The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE ENTIRE way back home, Colin belted out tunes from Rocky Horror while Nevin drove. Although Nevin looked horrified and made his usual snide comments, a smile kept stealing across his face. He’d smiled during the movie too, and even tossed a few playing cards shared by the girl seated next to him. And he’d leaned against Colin’s shoulder, which had been awfully nice.

  He even parked in an approved spot when they got back to Colin’s building.

  Legolas launched himself at both of them as soon as they got inside, explaining with loud meows that he definitely deserved an extra dinner even if the vet said he was getting too pudgy. Colin refused him, though, so Leg had to console himself with chin scratches from Nevin.

  Colin hung their jackets by the door. “Want anything?” he asked, gesturing toward the kitchen.

  “Just you.” Nevin leered dramatically. God, he was so beautiful, so… vibrant.

  “I do owe you. With interest.”

  For the first time that night, they kissed. It was weird, because although they’d had only that one previous night together, the kiss felt familiar. Not in a humdrum way, but like a favorite pair of jeans that fit exactly right and made your ass look fantastic. Nevin melted against him and gripped Colin’s hair tightly.

  “Bed,” Nevin said when they paused to breathe. As he blew lightly into Colin’s ear, they both shivered.

  In the bedroom, they kissed after removing each item of clothing. Colin discovered that he was even hungrier to taste Nevin than he had been last time. “You’re like a brownie with ice cream and caramel sauce,” he said, and Nevin laughed against his neck.

  While Nevin used the water closet and then washed up, Colin took out the rubbers—both sizes—and lube. He was mostly hard already, just from the kisses and from seeing Nevin’s bare body.

  Nevin climbed into bed and grinned at him.

  “Be right back!” Colin promised before going to pee, wash, and brush his teeth. He considered additional primping but decided against it. He turned toward the bed.

  “Hey, Nev—”

  Nevin lay curled under the blankets, Legolas resting against his chest. They were both sound asleep, and Nevin looked almost absurdly young and innocent.

  Tiptoeing, Colin switched off the lights and climbed carefully into bed. He fell asleep with Nevin’s hair tickling his face.

  THE NEXT morning Nevin considered him gravely from a few inches away. “That wasn’t what I planned.” Legolas was behind Nevin’s head on the pillow, one leg sticking indelicately into the air while he licked himself.

  “Was it bad?”

  Nevin shook his head slightly. “No. It was…. We didn’t fuck.”

  “People do that sometimes. Go on dates and even sleep together without having sex.”

  “I don’t.”

  Colin reached up to stroke his cheekbone. “Well, now you did. Once, at least.”

  Nevin’s gaze was so acute it felt as if he were reading Colin’s mind. Maybe that was how he got confessions from bad guys—staring straight into their souls. Oddly enough, the scrutiny didn’t make Colin uncomfortable. Usually people examined him only to gauge his medical condition, but this was much better. Yes, it made him feel naked, but then he was naked, so that was all right. Nevin was naked, too, his vulnerability clear in those warm brown eyes.

  Colin didn’t know what would have happened next. But Leg meowed, Colin glanced at him, and then he saw the clock behind him. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Sunday brunch with the family. I have to be there in less than an hour.”

  Nevin stretched, perhaps deliberately allowing the blankets to drop and expose more of him. “Blow them off.”

  “I can’t. Not this month. My sister’s getting divorced, so things are… fraught.” Then he had an idea. “Come with me.”

  The look of horror on Nevin’s face would have been perfect in any slasher flick, and he bolted out of bed so fast that Leg squawked and ran and Nevin nearly tripped over his own feet. “No fucking way.”

  “It’s just brunch, not a torture session. This month we’re going to this place my dad likes. It’s kind of a pain because it’s out near the airport, but he likes the river views. Food’s pretty good too.”

  But Nevin was already stumbling around, grabbing frantically at his clothing. It was the first time Colin had seen him look rattled and uncoordinated.

  Colin stood, bemused, hands on hips. “Do you have some kind of aversion to mimosas?”

  Nevin nearly fell over as he put his underwear on, and he did an odd dance to pull up his pants. He found one sock near the bed and looked around frantically for the other. Colin decided not to tell him it was outside the bedroom, probably somewhere near the couch, and Nevin apparently decided to give up. He tossed the one sock away and shrugged into his shirt, buttoning it as he hurried toward the door.

  But Colin got there first and snatched up Nevin’s shoes, holding them far above his head.

  “Give me my fucking shoes,” Nevin growled.

  “Only if you tell me what’s going on.”

  Nevin’s jaw worked. “Brunch,” he ground out as he buckled a holster over his shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “With your parents.”

  Ah. Ahh! “They’re not horrible people. They’re actually pretty nice. I mean yeah, Mom’s bossy and overprotective and Dad’s not very creative, but they’re funny and can make good conversation. They’ll like you.”

  “I don’t do parents.”

  Colin would have laughed if Nevin hadn’t looked so genuinely distressed. “It’s not an engagement brunch, Nevin. It doesn’t imply future promises. It’s just… eggs. Probably some prime rib.”

  “I can’t.”

  Relenting, Colin gave him the shoes. He even fetched Nevin’s jacket and handed it over. He wanted to ask whether they could have another date soon, and he tried to think of a flippant and witty way to word it so he wouldn’t scare Nevin off. But then Nevin surprised him by cradling Colin’s face in his palms. “I’m sorry, Collie. I’m just not made that way.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Something softened and relaxed in Nevin’s face. “You mean it, don’t you? You’re not pissed off at me.”

  “I get it. It’s fine. I’m just sorry I have to go.”

  Giving a slow nod, Nevin made a thoughtful hum. “I’m going to see if I have the balls to call you soon for another date.”

  “That would be great,” said Colin, beaming. “Or just stop by. I don’t mind.”

  Nevin kissed him fiercely, then left without another word. Colin looked at the closed door for a few moments before padding off to the bathroom to get ready.

  COLIN SHOULDN’T have been happy about his sister’s separation. But the entire brunch conversation centered around Miranda and what she was going to do now and how she could help her daughter, Hannah, get through the crisis. Hannah wasn’t there—she was away on a school-choir trip—which was just as well. Miranda was a wreck. Colin pretty much concentrated on his food, occasionally dropping sympathetic phrases into the conversation.

  At length, though, his mother turned her attention on him. “There’s a lot of cholesterol and fat in that omelet,” she said, pointing at his plate. “You know, you can ask them to make it with egg whites only.”

  “I can, but then it tastes like crap.”

  “Colin—”

  “Mom, I’m fine. I saw the doctor just a couple of weeks ago and he said I’m doing great, remember?”

  For a change, Miranda swooped in to temporarily rescue him. “I’ve got tickets to see The Book of Mormon in January. Now that Russell’s not going, want to come with me?”

  “Thanks, Miranda. I’d love to.” But Colin’s thoughts strayed to Nevin as he wondered what he would make of that musical. He’d probably love it—there was a character named General Butt-Fucking Naked. He’d even like the songs.

  “You look a million miles away today,” his mother said. He could rarely get anything past her.

  “Probably just a little tired. I went to Rocky Horror last night.”

  “You haven’t done that in years. Did you dress up?”

  “No. It was a last-minute kind of thing.”

  She cocked her head. “Who went with you?”

  Uh-oh. He tried to think of a way to turn the conversation. “Hey, Miranda, do you think Hannah would like to go?”

  “She’s too young. Give it two or three years. Though God knows that crap her father lets her watch on YouTube is ten times worse.”

  Torn between interrogating Colin and giving parenting advice to Miranda, their mother hesitated. And that was just long enough for their father to make an entry into the conversation. “That movie’s at the Clinton Street Theater, right?”

  “Yeah, for thirty-something years.”

  “There are a couple of houses I’ve been considering near there. Tear-downs, but we can fit at least six townhomes into those lots. I’d like you to come take a look with me this week. Tuesday?”

  “Sure.” Then Colin remembered something Nevin had said to him when they first met. “You know, Dad, a lot of the houses in that neighborhood have character. A history.”

  His father peered at him over his coffee cup. “So?”

  “So it’s a shame when they’re replaced by… boring modern stuff.”

  Judging by his expression, Harold Westwood clearly suspected that his son had been replaced by an alien replicant. He glanced at his wife, but she smiled smugly. She and Harold had discussed the value of old neighborhoods in the past, until finally the arguments had become so heated they’d mutually declared the subject off-limits. She didn’t criticize his real estate plans, and he didn’t complain when her law firm represented clients fighting developers like him.