by Cari Z.
So, coming back to work with a full day ahead of him was a relief. The second, bigger relief, was his meeting with Serena.
She met them at the door to Charmed Life’s part of the building, just an inch shorter than him in her ridiculously high heels. Her dress was fire-engine red, and her demeanor was the kind of brisk Elliot needed.
She thrust a set of keys at him. “For your rental car, which is parked out front. You have to send the paperwork to the company in the next half hour.”
Elliot perked up as he took them. “The Camaro?”
“The Camaro,” she agreed. “You have it through next Monday, at which point you can extend or we can go car shopping. And yes, I’ve seen the photos the insurance company sent of your Porsche, and I agree that it’s unsalvageable.” She handed over a plain manila folder. “Car paperwork is on top, schedule of meetings for today is underneath. Ted is available first thing tomorrow morning for a video shoot, and if all goes well, you can put it up by Friday. There’s also a list of vendors we’ve confirmed for the events, the finalized list of attendees for the Meetup, and new graphics for your approval that include Castillion.”
“You’re the light of my life,” Elliot told her seriously.
“And you’re the bane of my existence,” Serena replied, but then her impersonal demeanor melted away, and she almost crushed him in a hug. “You idiot, oh my God, I’m so glad you’re all right!”
Elliot actually couldn’t draw a breath, his chest had contracted so painfully, but Lennox was there to gently pull Serena back. “He’s tender,” he said. “I recommend holding off on the full-body tackles for now.”
“Oh shit! I’m sorry.” Serena looked Elliot over anxiously. “I didn’t even think about that. Of course you’re sore, good lord. You were in a car crash.”
“The hug was worth it,” Elliot assured her. “It’s good to be back.”
“It’s good to have you back. Plenty of people have been anxious to talk to you.” She rolled her eyes. “Stuart practically camped out here yesterday.”
Elliot winced. “Is he one of my meetings?”
“No, he’s got a big corporate event today, but I promised he could come tomorrow for a tasting. He’ll bring everything here, so we can call it a lunch meeting.”
“Sounds good.” Elliot opened the folder and glanced inside, flipping past the first few pages to the schedule. “You booked Quantum Imaging at nine thirty? That hardly leaves me any time to prepare!”
“Then I suppose you better get started,” Serena said, one long-nailed finger tapping her hip. “Chop-chop. I’ll handle things out here, including—” She turned a bright smile on her ex-brother-in-law. “Lennox! Can I get you some coffee, or something to eat?”
Lennox returned Serena’s smile with an easy, gentle one that Elliot got a little too much pleasure out of seeing. “I made sure we ate before we came in, but coffee would be good.”
“Excellent! Sit and stay for a while, you can tell me all about why my sister called me at ten last night bitching about Lee joining a boxing club.”
Lennox winced, and Elliot left him to Serena’s inquisition as he headed into his office. He kept the door open a crack, so that Lennox would know he was welcome to come in if he wanted to, but honestly Elliot hoped Serena would keep him busy. He needed a little distance for the moment.
It’s only for this week, he told himself. Pullman will get bored after the Meetup, and we can go back to our old lives. Even if the former CEO proved persistent, the special election for DA was happening this weekend as well. Once his sister had won, he could take things to the police.
Everything would be fine.
He spent the morning and most of the afternoon reviewing the last fine details with his vendors, and meeting with clients who were coming to the Meetup. After going through numerous layers of firewalls and verification, he sent out a message to the Black Box subscribers, telling them he’d be releasing the location of their event twenty-four hours before the event itself, and to be careful who they gave that information out to.
It was all so clandestine Elliot almost wanted to roll his eyes, but this was the sort of secrecy his clients demanded. These were people in power, people in the public eye, entertainers and politicians and CEOs; if they wanted to play spy games, then Elliot would take them seriously. It wasn’t as though he wanted what they were doing exposed to more scrutiny either.
It took until almost seven, but Elliot managed to catch up despite his forced day off. By the time he finally emerged from his office he was dragging though, and Lennox took one look at him and put the kibosh on what sounded like Serena’s nascent dinner plans. “You need dinner, a bath, and sleep, in that order,” Lennox told him.
“I’m fine!” Elliot protested, but Lennox and Serena exchanged doubtful glances. “I’m also an adult, fully capable of judging my personal state of health and well-being.”
“Which is why I’m letting you drive yourself home instead of insisting we carpool,” Lennox said mildly.
Elliot grinned and spun the Camaro’s keyring around his index finger. “When it’s a choice between this beautiful machine and yours, there’s truly only one option.”
“My truck’s not so bad.”
“The most expensive part of your truck is its new fuel pump,” Elliot said. “Which makes it quite serviceable, but not nearly as much fun as my new ride. I’ll see you at home, then.”
His plan to drive off like he owned the thing was delayed by Lennox pulling out his flashlight and doing a thorough check of the Camaro’s underside before he’d let Elliot inside. “You can’t seriously think I’ve got to worry about a car bomb or something,” Elliot said. Pullman wasn’t that stupid.
“I think anything is possible,” Lennox said, standing up and brushing slush off his knees. “But it looks clear.” He stepped in close to Elliot and patted him on the hip. “Be sure to check for dongles, though.”
Lennox’s hand might as well have been made of molten iron, given the way his touch seemed to sear right through Elliot’s slacks to the skin beneath them. Elliot swallowed and forced his voice to be nonchalant. “I still say that’s not a word.”
“Just because it’s funny doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I’ll follow you home.”
Home. His home, and Lennox’s temporary one. Only temporary, which was right, no matter how it felt. Elliot nodded and got into the car.
He wished he could have enjoyed the ride a little more, but he really was tired. Sunday had been a roller coaster of first the crash, then the hospital. Monday had been the exhausting trip to Castillion while his body and brain had still been freshly pummeled. Today would have been normal any other week, maybe, but after his unexpectedly busy weekend, Elliot wanted nothing but to shut down for a while.
It was almost eerie how Lennox seemed to read his mind. Not five minutes after they arrived at the house, Elliot was seated in front of the television with Breakfast at Tiffany’s playing, Holly firmly settled in his lap and a mug of tea on the table in front of him. By the time Lennox came with dinner (soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, which Elliot hadn’t eaten since he was a teenager and enjoyed far more now because of that) he was ready to be gracious.
“This is my favorite movie,” he said as Lennox handed over the plate before joining him on the couch. Holly moved to snuggle between the two of them. “Willie was considered for the role, but it went to Audrey Hepburn. Willie didn’t mind,” he added as he watched Holly Golightly meet her neighbor Paul for the first time. “She was a big fan of Audrey’s.”
Lennox glanced at the black-and-white picture of Audrey Hepburn arm in arm with Wilhelmina VanAllen beside the door. “Looks like they knew each other.”
“Willie knew everybody in the business.”
“Everybody who was anybody,” as she used to say.
Lennox nodded but didn’t try to continue the conversation, which was perfect. Elliot relaxed and zoned out, eating and watching and gradually sinking further and further
into the couch. Once Lennox shook him awake again, Paul had just flung the ring into Holly’s lap before leaving her to search for the cat.
“I can see why this is your favorite movie,” Lennox said as he prodded Elliot up the stairs, Holly the dog following close at their heels. “She reminds me of you.”
“You might think you’re being insulting, but I take any comparisons to Audrey Hepburn as compliments,” Elliot said around a yawn. “God, I’m so tired.”
“You have good reason to be.” They got ready for bed, and as Elliot slipped under the covers he contemplated, for a brief moment, asking Lennox to sleep in the guest room tonight. After all, they weren’t going to be having sex and it might be better to put up some boundaries now, while they could still be enforced.
But he remembered how Lennox had ended up sleeping in the chair last time, and how much better he’d seemed when sleeping alongside another person. No nightmares yet, as far as Elliot knew, and that was good.
It couldn’t hurt. It was a friendly gesture. It was . . . Elliot resolutely shut his eyes. It was something he could deal with later.
Being around Stuart Reynolds was like standing in a sunbeam, Elliot thought. The overall sensation was warm and pervasive but if you weren’t careful, you’d get burned. Stuart was a brilliant chef with a big personality: outgoing, social, and friendly to a fault, which got him a lot of business. He also clung like a burr, and after a few initial missteps in dealing with him, Elliot had carefully framed their relationship as primarily a business one, and stuck to that ever since.
That didn’t mean he didn’t ever enjoy Stuart’s company though, especially when Stuart brought enough food to feed the entire building with him.
“Seven-layer nachos, all organic ingredients, in tasty, red hot and ‘oh dear God, get a fire extinguisher!’” he said, pointing out the dishes on the table he’d set up in the front office. “Mini quiches in regular, gluten-free, vegetarian, and gluten-free vegetarian, for our selective eaters. Baked brie with a cranberry compote and my special seed-bread to serve it with, various dips and crudités—try the spinach artichoke, Elliot, you’ll love it—and Swedish meatballs for the meat lovers. You look like a meat lover,” Stuart added saucily to Lennox, whom he’d absorbed into the tasting without a fuss. “Try the meatballs, they’ll hit the spot.”
He turned to Serena. “And for you, there’s an array of flavored macarons, miniature cheesecakes, and custom sugar cookies frosted in orange and blue, because we have to support the home team even though we’re not in the Super Bowl this year, right? Oh, and,” he reached into the pastry box and withdrew a red and white cupcake with a flourish, “this. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, on the house.”
“You’re a god among pastry chefs,” Serena declared, snatching the cupcake out of his hands. Stuart preened a bit under the attention, but his eyes kept darting back to Elliot. It was his itchy look, and it heralded a barrage of questions that would inevitably be asked, one way or the other. Elliot vastly preferred that they be asked in private, so he spent a while longer tasting the food, gave everything the okay, and then asked Stuart to join him in his office.
Everything okay? Lennox mouthed from the other side of the table.
Fine, Elliot replied, waving his concerns off. He shut the door and barely took a breath before Stuart was speaking at a thousand miles a minute.
“I heard about the car accident,” Stuart said, wringing his hands a little. His face was flushed almost as pink as his shirt. “And I know, I know, personal boundaries and all that, but I just have to ask if you’re okay.”
Classic Stuart. He worried more about Elliot than Elliot’s own mother ever had. “I’m fine,” Elliot said. “Who did you hear about the accident from?”
“Serena. Oh no, was she not supposed to say anything? Forget I mentioned it, I don’t want to get her in trouble!”
“No, it’s fine.” He hadn’t told her to keep it quiet, after all. She must have given it as a reason for rescheduling their Monday meeting. “I don’t mind you knowing. I got a bit banged up, but I’m on my way to a full recovery.”
“Thank God.” Stuart cast his eyes heavenward as he heaved a sigh. “I’m so glad to hear it. And who’s taking care of you during all this?”
“Stuart—”
“Because I would happily come over and help you out. You know I would. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”
“Stuart, listen—”
“And I know you were serious about taking a step back, but you’re letting me help with your Black Box meeting.” Stuart whispered the words with quiet emphasis. “So I know you trust me.”
“That’s true,” Elliot agreed, because, well, it was. “But I don’t need any more help at home. I’ve already got one person doing everything for me except tying my shoelaces.” And actually, Lennox had helped with that this morning because Elliot had been so stiff, but it had been a one-time deal.
“Hmm.” Stuart pursed his lips doubtfully. “He seems like a bodyguard instead of a nurse.”
Elliot forced a laugh. “Lucky for me, I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“But you do need a nurse?”
“I don’t need either,” Elliot said. “Now, I’ve got to leave the office early today, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to sample a little more of your amazing food before I go.”
“Oh.” Stuart shook his head, then smiled. “Oh! Well, of course you can’t. Come on, come on, I held back a few things for you in the chafing dish.”
“I appreciate it.” And Elliot did: he appreciated having a good working relationship with one of the best caterers in Denver, and a small, darker part of him appreciated having the man’s undivided admiration too. Mostly though, he appreciated from a distance, and that was the way it had to be with people like Stuart.
Serena had apparently split her cupcake with Lennox, a shocking concession on her part, and when she saw Elliot again, her face lit up. “Listen! What do you think of Lee coming to the Executive Meetup with me?” She winked slyly. “She can be my date.”
“She?” Stuart looked confused as he bustled around the table, filling a plate. “I didn’t think you dated women.”
“She’s my niece,” Serena explained, then poked Lennox’s shoulder. “And this one’s daughter, and I gave her a dress for Christmas that she’s been dying for an excuse to wear.”
“That was you?” Lennox frowned. “It’s tiny. She’s thirteen. It’ll be cold. That dress barely covers her butt.”
“It’s fashionable, she’ll be inside, I’ll be with her, and as long as she’s standing, the length won’t be a problem,” Serena retorted.
“It’s fine with me if she comes,” Elliot interrupted as he took the salmon croquettes and crab salad that Stuart handed him. “But do you really think she’d enjoy it?”
“A big, fancy party with some of the city’s biggest movers and shakers? What’s not to enjoy?”
“We can ask her, as long as we clear it with Gaby first,” Lennox said. “No promises, though. And she wears a different dress.”
Serena rolled her eyes but dropped it, discreetly tapping her watch in Elliot’s direction as she walked back to her desk. Yeah, timing―they had to leave soon if they were going to get to the airport to meet the intriguing Uncle Oliver. Lennox had asked if Elliot minded tagging along, and Elliot couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather meet. He was interested in sizing up the only man he knew of that Lennox had been with apart from him.
After sending Stuart on his way, Elliot drove them to DIA. Lennox had already arranged a meeting point in one of the airport bars, and five minutes after they arrived and were seated at Red Rocks Bar and BBQ, Lennox got up again to greet a shorter, dark-haired man with a briefcase who was heading straight for them. Elliot stayed seated, both to give them a moment and to give himself time to appraise the situation.
Oliver Morin looked like he’d just come from the beach. His suit was made of light linen, a sandy color that complimented his sun
-kissed complexion. He wore a narrow goatee and had expensive aviators slung over the third button down on his cream-colored shirt. His face was friendly—not exactly handsome, but there was an unrestrained energy in how he moved that was captivating. Elliot could see why Lennox liked him.
It didn’t follow that Elliot had to like those things too, of course.
Their hug was long, but when they separated Lennox immediately led his friend back to their table. “Oliver Morin, this is Elliot McKenzie. Don’t be a dick to him.”
Oliver extended a hand, which Elliot shook politely. When he took it back he turned to Lennox and said, “Oh, it’s ‘not like that,’ is it?” And fascinatingly, Lennox blushed.
“Don’t be a dick to me either,” he warned as he sat down—next to Elliot, gratifyingly, leaving the other side of the table for the newcomer.
“Nonsense, I’ve got permanent leave for that.” Oliver’s accent was hard to place, almost unnoticeable except for the tenor of his speech. “Good friends get to act however they want to each other as long as no one loses a limb and we all walk away happy in the end.”
“Is that the criteria for friendship with Lennox?” Elliot asked, deciding to test the waters. “Because that’s a pretty low bar.”
There was complete silence for a moment, and then Oliver started to laugh. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve told him he’s got to be more selective about his company but no, he’ll take any old thing that acts pathetic and bleeds all over him. Aren’t we lucky?” He signaled the waitress before Elliot could reply. “We’ll have a pitcher of something crafty, because this is Colorado, isn’t it, and you can’t tell me a bar in the middle of the airport doesn’t have a craft brew. My treat, boys. So!” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table and looked Elliot straight in the eyes. “What did you do to attract this one’s notice, hmm?”