“Well. The crews have already begun on the Clinton houses. Things will go a little slow because of weather and the holidays, but spring’s a better time to sell anyway. Let me know any time you want to take a peek.”

  Nevin shot him a glance. “Planning a repeat of last time, Collie?”

  “Always a possibility. Although really, I prefer you in my bed. Less dry cleaning afterward.” He reached over to give Nevin’s thigh a light stroke.

  “What about that place in Northwest?”

  “Bob and Ivan’s? We close next week. They said they want to throw a little party to celebrate. Some of the Bright Hope people will be invited, and Bob and Ivan’s friends. Would you go?” The hesitance in Colin’s voice made Nevin’s chest hurt.

  “I…. Maybe. If I can stop being a complete fucking pussy.”

  “You’re not,” Colin assured him. “You’re more of a tomcat. And you have a few weeks to think about it, anyway. Bob says he wants to wait until after Thanksgiving. My mission in the meantime is to see if I can convince them to let us do some work on the parts of the house they’re not living in. Their heating bills are ridiculous, and I’m worried about the roof. I think Bob and Ivan will go for it if I point out that reno work means a steady stream of hot construction guys to look at.”

  They were quiet for several minutes, Colin’s hand warm on Nevin’s leg. Then Colin chuckled. “Where are we going—Idaho?”

  “Almost there.”

  “You could have taken the Banfield. It would have been faster. Oh. You didn’t want faster.”

  “Almost there.”

  Colin patted him. “Not quite going to Troutdale, huh? Some weekend when the weather’s decent, we could go to Hood River, find a cozy little B and B.”

  Nevin had never stayed at a B and B, and the idea was surprisingly attractive. He imagined curling up with Colin in an antique bed, the kind you needed a step stool to get onto—and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist. “What about Legolas?” he asked.

  “He’ll be fine,” Colin said, laughing. “He can last for one night without us. If it’s longer than that, Miranda and Hannah could come over to feed him.”

  Nevin tried not to be shaken by Colin’s careless use of us—as if the cat needed Nevin too. “Germy likes to hike out that way. I could ask him for some good trails. If that’s not too—”

  “I can manage hiking,” Colin said a bit tersely.

  “Then I’ll ask him.”

  “When I was a kid, we used to go there for picnics. I liked to stop at Bonneville Dam to see the fish ladders. Did you ever do that?”

  When Nevin shook his head, Colin squeezed his leg.

  It was just past five, so the restaurant parking lot was nearly empty. “Mexican?” Colin asked as Nevin pulled into a spot near the door.

  “You object?”

  “Nope. I like Mexican.”

  “It’s kind of a dump, but the food’s great. And cheap. I washed dishes here for a year or two when I was in college, and even after I quit, the Solorios used to give me a discount.” The Solorios had retired a few years ago, but their daughter and her husband ran the place now, and Nevin still ate there when he was in the neighborhood.

  As soon as they stepped inside, Gabi Reyes called a greeting from the back of the dining room, where she was setting a table. “Nevin! We haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “Sorry. Been spending a lot of time on the west side lately.”

  Her gaze settled on Colin. “That’s not Ford,” she teased.

  “My friend Colin.” Friend. That was an acceptable word, right? Accurate, not too scary, yet not too distancing.

  Colin seemed satisfied with it, anyway. “Hi,” he said to Gabi.

  “You guys sit wherever,” she said, smiling. “You want a menu too, Nevin, or just one for your friend?”

  “Make it three.”

  Colin opened his mouth, no doubt to ask who was joining them, but then the front door opened and Ford walked in. He waved at Gabi but didn’t even bother greeting Nevin—his focus was on Colin instead, a little smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  Nevin took a deep breath and dove in. “Collie, this asshole is Ford Ott. Ford, meet Colin.”

  An enormous grin appeared on Colin’s face and he launched himself at Ford with enough enthusiasm that it looked as if Ford had to brace himself. “Oh my God,” Colin said, crushing Ford in a hug. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

  Ford hugged him back and laughed. He was still chuckling as they sat down at their table, Colin next to Nevin and across from Ford. Gabi brought them menus, but Colin and Ford ignored them and instead stared at each other, each sizing the other up. Nevin wondered what they saw. A nerdy guy with an expensive jacket and a tattooed bald man who looked like a thug?

  “You’re not what I expected,” Ford finally said.

  Undaunted, Colin asked, “What did you expect? Did he even tell you I existed?”

  “Yeah. But only after I accused him of picking up a drug habit. He’s been so mellow lately.”

  Colin snorted. “Yeah, that’s Nev. Mr. Laid-Back.”

  When Ford guffawed and started a story about one of Nevin’s tantrums, Nevin realized this was going to work. Yes, they were going to gang up on him, but he could handle that. Hell, he might be able to urge Katie onto his side, and that would be fun. Nevin had plenty of embarrassing Ford stories to share. In any case Colin wasn’t going to treat Ford like hired help, and Ford was acting as if he and Colin were already best pals.

  Fuck. They were both good people. Why had Nevin expected the worst from them? He was the only one who’d misbehaved, hiding Colin in the closet and keeping his brother almost entirely in the dark.

  The conversation stayed lively over burritos, tacos, and carne asada. Nevin had told Ford very little about Colin—male, thirty, in construction—and Ford seemed genuinely fascinated when Colin started talking about the old houses he was working on. For his part Colin asked a lot of questions about Ford’s landscaping business. “Would you be interested in taking on some commercial work? Totally redoing the front and back yards for our projects?”

  Ford shook his head. “You don’t have to hire me just because I’m Nevin’s family.”

  “We Westwoods are firm believers in nepotism—I work for my dad, after all. But anyway, we’ve been looking for someone who’s willing to do something a little more creative than junipers and bark dust. Look, you don’t need to decide now. Think it over and we can talk about it another time.”

  Ford looked pleased. He could use the extra business, especially in winter. But Nevin wanted to jump into the conversation and ask them what would happen to this cozy professional relationship when his personal relationship with Colin blew up. Then again, Colin and Ford were grown-ups who would probably handle the situation maturely. Damn them.

  They didn’t linger long after their meal was done because Ford and Katie were going to a movie. Out in the parking lot, it was Ford’s turn to initiate a hug with Colin, which was a bit of a shock to Nevin. Ford wasn’t usually the touchy-feely type, and after he pulled away, he maintained eye contact with Colin. “I don’t know how you and Nevin decided to give this a try, but I sure am glad you did. He needed someone to tame him.”

  “I don’t want to tame him,” Colin protested. “I like him prickly.”

  Ford laughed. “You got a point. He wouldn’t be Nevin if he turned all soft and sentimental. But maybe you can settle him a little. That’d be good.”

  Colin glanced at Nevin with a smile. “He’s nice to my cat. Beyond that, I just want us to make each other happy.”

  “Nervy Nevin happy—yeah, that sounds good to me.”

  “Fuck off, Four-Door,” Nevin muttered.

  When Nevin and Colin got into Julie, Nevin didn’t start the engine right away. After a moment or two, Colin put his hand on Nevin’s thigh. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing you could have done for me.”

  “Buying you tacos?”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  Nevin looked down at Colin’s hand, the shape of it indistinct in the dark car. “I introduced you to my brother and didn’t die.”

  “Nope. We all survived. I like him. I see why you guys are so close. He’s funny and he’s… solid, isn’t he?”

  “As a fucking rock.”

  An enormous burst of air escaped Nevin’s lungs, as if he’d been holding his breath for a very long time. “Is your dad going to be pissed over the landscaping thing?”

  “No. He’ll understand that it’s worth paying a little extra to get plantings that aren’t incredibly boring. It all adds value. You know what? He’s even coming around on the rehab thing. He saw the plans for one of the Clinton houses the other day and almost admitted I was right.”

  Although Nevin smiled, he didn’t reply. He didn’t start the car either, and Colin seemed content to sit there in the dark, watching the inside of the windshield fog over.

  “I think maybe I might survive meeting your family,” Nevin said at last.

  Colin didn’t jump and shout, but he did grab Nevin’s hand. “Yeah?”

  “Probably.”

  “So how do you want to arrange the showdown? We can do casual or….” He bit his lip, as if the rest was too hard to say.

  “Or?” Nevin prompted.

  “Thanksgiving’s coming up.”

  For most of his childhood, Nevin had ignored the holiday. Many of his foster parents had done the same or had at least been content when he’d spent the day in a bedroom, away from the real family. A few times he’d been in group homes or similar institutions, and on those occasions there had been dry turkey turned cold, canned green beans, stale rolls, and apple pie that tasted like soggy cardboard. And no real reason to give thanks. More recently he and Ford sometimes spent the holiday together—at a decent restaurant, since neither of them cooked. Or Rhoda would invite them to her house, where she’d gather an eclectic mix of friends, relatives, and strays. This year Ford was doing Thanksgiving with Katie’s people. Nevin hadn’t given his own plans any thought.

  “I can’t decide whether that’s better or worse than brunch,” he said.

  Colin answered promptly. “Better. We argue at brunch. Friendly arguments, but…. On Thanksgiving, though, everyone eats too much to bicker. And God, Mom and Dad can cook!”

  “Not the servants?”

  Colin poked him. “Asshat.”

  Laughing, Nevin made a decision. “Fine. Thanksgiving it is. If I don’t end up having a fucking nervous breakdown first.”

  EXACTLY A week before Thanksgiving, Nevin was walking by Frankl’s office when he caught Jeremy Cox’s name. Frankl wasn’t as prone to gossip as most cops, and he didn’t sound happy. Nevin entered the office without knocking and glared until Frankl hung up his phone. “What the fuck were you talking about?” Nevin demanded.

  “Not your case.”

  “What case?” Nevin stomped closer to Frankl’s chair. “What’s going on with Jeremy?”

  Frankl was one of the few people who refused to back down from Nevin. Now Frankl peered up at him, his eyes even sadder than usual. “He’s landed in some trouble.”

  An unusual emotion flooded Nevin—guilt. He’d been so busy acting like a giddy schoolgirl with Colin that he’d neglected Jeremy. It had been some time since they’d met up for coffee or a run. He covered his self-disgust and discomfort by grabbing a chair, scooting it close to Frankl’s, and sitting down with a scowl. “What’s wrong?”

  A blue ballpoint pen sat on Frankl’s desk. He picked it up and clicked it a number of times, until Nevin was just about ready to grab the fucking thing and impale him with it. Then Frankl sighed and set the pen down again. “You remember his ex, right?”

  “Donny? Yeah, I remember that steaming pile of shit. What the fuck did he—”

  “He’s dead.”

  Nevin blinked. The news shouldn’t have been such a shock, considering the source. Frankl was a homicide detective after all. But still, Nevin had known the guy. And he’d seen that Jeremy had genuinely loved him, not that Donny deserved it. He drank, he was a shitty cop, and he cheated on Jeremy. “Jesus. Does Jeremy know?”

  Frankl snorted. “Yeah, he knows. Because whoever murdered Donny also trashed Jeremy’s apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Donny paid him a visit the day before he got killed.”

  “That son of a bitch! It’s been, what? Five, six years? Goddammit, tell me Germy wasn’t so hard up that he considered seeing him again.” If so, Nevin would go beat some sense into him. Well, once the big guy stopped grieving.

  But Frankl shook his head. “Nah. Donny showed up in bad shape—somebody had beat him. Jeremy patched him up, gave him cash, and sent him on his way. Somebody found Donny floating in the river the next day—shot in the back before he was dumped. We figure whoever did it thinks Donny left something at Jeremy’s place.”

  “What?”

  “Who the hell knows?” Frankl looked like he was considering playing with the pen again, but instead he removed a package of breath mints from his desk drawer, popped one in his mouth, and held the roll out to Nevin, who shook his head impatiently. After returning the package to the drawer, Frankl sighed. “Whoever it was, they tossed Jeremy’s place pretty good. He’s gonna have to stay elsewhere for a while.”

  “Fuck.” Nevin gave a thought to offering his place. But he had only the one bedroom, and his couch wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep on. Jeremy had other good friends—Rhoda, for instance. “You have any leads on the case?”

  “We have some ideas. Not enough to make anything stick yet. Meantime, I’ve been telling Jeremy to watch his back.” He barked a humorless laugh. “For a minute I thought his new boyfriend had something to do with it. But now I’m pretty sure not.”

  Well, hell if Frankl wasn’t full of surprises this afternoon. “Germy Cox has a new boyfriend?”

  “Yup.”

  “Not another scumbucket like Donny?” Nevin wasn’t going to be respectful to a man who managed to screw Jeremy over even in death.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Nevin couldn’t pull any additional information out of Frankl and decided it was better to go to the source. Besides, he wanted to make sure Jeremy was doing all right. If anyone could weather a run of bad luck, it was Jeremy Cox, but Nevin figured he ought to make sure. He called Jeremy, found out he was staying in the Marriott by the river, and arranged to meet him there at six.

  After work, Nevin changed into sweats and jogged the half mile to the hotel. Jeremy waited for him on the sidewalk outside the lobby. He was big and handsome and grinning like someone whose life wasn’t falling apart. Nevin decided Jeremy needed a good run more than an interrogation, so with little preamble, they took off.

  Night had already fallen before Nevin left work, so it was difficult to see some of the details of their surroundings as they ran. Still, about three miles into their run, Nevin realized that he kept seeing the same car—a gray Toyota. It followed them at a distance, and sometimes it wasn’t visible at all, but it kept reappearing as he and Jeremy zigzagged through town.

  As they stood again on the sidewalk outside the hotel, trying to catch their breath, the Toyota drove by. “Did you notice—” Nevin began.

  “That gray Toyota? Yep. I was a cop too, you know.”

  “He’s been following us since—”

  “Since we began. I know. I saw him the other day too. He’s not especially sneaky.”

  There wasn’t much Nevin could do about it. He didn’t even have his gun on him. And Jeremy shrugged the whole thing off as though it was no big fucking deal. Then he changed the subject completely, grinning at Nevin and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.

  “Thanks for the run. Join me at Rhoda’s next week?”

  Shit. It should have occurred to Nevin that this might come up. “Nah. I, uh, got plans.”

  “Don’t tell me you have to work. Avoiding crappy shifts is supposed to be one of the benefits of moving off patrol.”

  Nevin pretended to find the hotel sign fascinating. “I’m going somewhere.”

  “Somewhere?”

  “Dinner.” When Jeremy just waited, eyebrows raised, Nevin snarled. “Nosy fucker, aren’t you? I’m invited to dinner at a fancy-ass house in the hills. I have to wear a fucking suit. And then I have to pretend like I’m goddamn civilized because I’m meeting the parents. All right? Satisfied now, asshole?”

  Jeremy beamed like a man who’d just won the lottery. “Whose parents?”

  God. If he said it out loud, it made the whole thing true, didn’t it? He’d avoided asking about Jeremy’s new boyfriend out of fear of falling into this exact discussion. He kicked the sidewalk. “This… this guy. Colin. He’s fruity as a nutcake and he prances around with his twatty graduate degree and his fancy-schmancy everything, and the only reason I can stand to be near him is he’s got a spectacular ass and he’s hung like goddamn Pegasus.” He glanced up at Jeremy, scowled, and looked away. “And he’s also a pretty good guy,” he muttered.

  “Way to go, Nev. Mazel tov.”

  It was a funny thing. Here was Jeremy Cox with a murdered ex, a damaged home, and a suspicious car tailing him. But he looked genuinely happy just because Nevin had admitted he was seeing someone. The whole situation with Colin was weird and alien and just not something Nevin had ever pictured for himself. Yet it made Jeremy happy. And Nevin? Fuck. Maybe he was feeling happy too.

  Chapter Twenty

  “AND DON’T forget to bring—”

  “The pies and wine. I know, Mom.” Although those were Colin’s usual contributions to Thanksgiving dinner and he’d never once forgotten them, his mom always called to remind him. He didn’t take it personally. He knew she also reminded Miranda to bring the candied sweet potatoes, and on Thanksgiving Day itself, she reminded his dad to baste the turkey every thirty minutes. One year for Christmas, his dad bought her a T-shirt that said Control Freak in red-rhinestoned letters. She’d worn it proudly.

  “I’m really looking forward to meeting him,” she said.