Into the Gloaming

by Mercy Celeste

  And just like divorce. He had no idea what to do with his life now that it was all over.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The pounding on the door matched the throbbing in his head. Heath dried his hair and hooked the towel over the rack by the small bathroom door. He’d dressed for a night in and wasn’t expecting visitors.

  “Come on, Mr. Cortlandt, answer the door.” The voice that called through the wood was feminine. And perky. He’d bet anything, it was the petite blonde, Britney. She wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge.

  He stepped into his slippers and walked the very few steps across the cold brick floor to the door. The latch was still tricky to open, it was new, but needed oiling or something. It didn’t slide easily. She pounded again as he opened the door, almost falling inside, but the taller woman with her caught her and held her up.

  “Looks like someone already started celebrating,” he said, then winced as he wondered how that would sound. “I meant no disrespect by that.”

  “None taken, she’s already two drinks ahead, this is true,” Donna said, she wasn’t perky like Britney, even when she was in a good mood. Now she seemed even more subdued.

  He raked a hand through wet hair and leaned against the door. There was no reason to let them inside. There was nothing inside except a bed and a chair and his word against theirs.

  “About what I said this afternoon.” He wanted to explain, but wasn’t sure exactly what he was explaining or apologizing for.

  Donna rolled her eyes and held her girlfriend up. “Have you ever noticed that there’s this heavy feeling in the house? I mean. I’m not saying it’s haunted or anything. Because I haven’t seen anything. But… I don’t know… when I’m in that house. I get really… cranky.”

  “You’re always a little cranky,” Britney said in her cheerful voice. “That’s one of your charms.”

  “Not what I mean, Brit,” Donna pulled her coat tighter around her body and stomped her feet. “Look… Heath. It’s New Year’s Eve. There’s nothing to do in this town. We thought you’d like to join us over at Callaghan’s. Rory is hoping to make it a fun night. I don’t know what he’s planning. I think they’re having a live band. And the place has a great dance floor. Not New York City quality, or even Atlanta. But for Nowhere, Georgia, it’s not half bad. And he has food. And beer.”

  Heath tried not to picture Austin and Rory heading upstairs. He tried to shut out that waitress’s remark about the boss being busy. He tried to pretend that Austin sleeping with the man wasn’t twisting something in his chest, he didn’t know could be twisted. So, what if they were sleeping together? It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t jealous. But they’d lied. Lied right to his face last night.

  “Will Jemma be joining us?” He wouldn’t commit. He wasn’t going to be dragged into this little drama playing out between these people. He was going to pack his bags and get a good night’s sleep and be on his way in the morning. All he was waiting for was the ice to be cleared from the roads and he’d drive down to Florida, where it was warm, and maybe find someone to make him forget all the mistakes he’d made in his life.

  Donna looked at the next door over. A look of animosity crossing her face before she schooled her features. There was friction there. He’d noticed it before. Maybe sexual friction. He couldn’t get a read on Jemma. She had made no advances on him the day before. She didn’t seem interested in either of the women. She seemed to care deeply for Austin, but her eyes strayed to Rory more often than she probably realized. Especially his ass. And the man had a great ass. “She said she’d be out in a few minutes. She’s slow as fuck. All that hair. She tries to do it up nice, but Rory doesn’t know she exists, so she’s wasting her time.”

  “Rory is gay,” Britney said, her words slightly slurred. “Why would he notice her?”

  “Rory isn’t gay,” Heath said. He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. “He’s the kind that sleeps with men for kicks, but when it comes time to settle down, he’ll choose a woman.”

  “That’s called bi-sexual, and more importantly, that’s bi-erasure. And so, what if Rory likes both men and women? Nothing wrong with that. And if he settles down with Austin or ever notices that Jemma watches his ass like a woman starving for a taste of that… then that’s his business.” Donna narrowed her eyes at him and Heath held up his hands in surrender.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll keep my mouth closed until I leave tomorrow,” he said, hoping it would help. “And maybe it’s best if I stay here. I’m not feeling much like meeting the locals.”

  Donna heaved an aggravated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s this damn place. I swear. It’s like… makes me want to kick puppies or something. I’ve mostly decided to withdraw my name from consideration for the full-time summer job. I just don’t think I can handle the negative vibes this place gives off. But suit yourself.”

  Donna started to walk away, but Britney pulled her back, her eyes bright and shiny and showing no outward sign of negative vibes as she turned to Heath. “Austin will be so upset to hear you’re leaving in the morning. And… maybe you should tell him first. He’s already over there. I guess. He’s not at his place. And if you don’t tell him you have the hots for him, and maybe find out if he might… you know… want to… bone— Ow,” she screeched when Donna pinched her arm through her sweater. “Bitch, don’t make me withhold sex, I will do it.”

  “I swear to god, something is making you stupid, you aren’t normally this obtuse. You don’t just tell the big boss to bone the little boss because he’s frustrated and… maybe they’ll stop looking at each other like they will drop down on the worktable and go at it,” Donna whispered loudly, rolling her eyes back to Heath as if he couldn’t hear a word she said.

  “But Austin needs to get laid, soon. Or he’s going to, I don’t know, explode or something. I have never met anyone so uptight. Maybe if he and Rory would just give in and get it over with.”

  “Both those boys are big old bottoms; they wouldn’t know what to do with each other.” Donna rolled her eyes one more time.

  “How do you know? Is there a way to tell?” Britney said, sounding naïve… and strangely excited as her gaze landed on Heath. Heath tried not to squirm under her perusal. “What is Mr. Heath?”

  Donna followed her gaze, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He’s a top. Bet my last buck. Maybe likes it rough.”

  Heath felt heat creep over his face. He couldn’t meet her eyes. Donna snorted, and he heard flesh slapping flesh. He looked up in time to see them high five each other like bros. “Well…” he leveled his gaze on the taller woman. “Takes one to know one.”

  “Damn straight,” Donna laughed, all the tension between them broken. They were back to the way it was in the attic this afternoon. As if he’d finally found a kindred spirit. Someone, he could be friends with, with no sexual hang-ups getting in the way. “And it looks like none of us are. Straight, I mean. Except maybe Jemma, but I’m not going to—”

  “I’d appreciate it if you left my sexuality out of your speculations.” Jemma walked out of the darkness. She looked like a million bucks, her long dark hair down for the night; straight, sleek and shiny in the flickering gaslight. The dress she wore hugging curves he hadn’t suspected were there. Smoky eyeshadow made her dark eyes seem so much larger, and maybe a touch exotic. A beauty without artifice, the woman was drop-dead gorgeous when she pulled out the stops. And Heath didn’t miss the look Donna gave her. Her gaze sweeping Jemma’s entire body, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

  “You look amazeballs.” Britney hopped over to hug the newcomer. And Heath noticed they were all wearing shoes that could get them killed on the ice.

  Jemma stepped out of the embrace and gave Heath a scorching look. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  “He’s not going,” Donna said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “He thinks Austin is sleeping with Rory.” Britney didn’t manage the whisper. Her wink so obvious, Heath decided she was doing it all on purpose
.

  “Or he’s too much of a snob to drag his fancy Manhattan ass out to an Irish pub in the middle of Redneckville. Too afraid to see how the rest of us live?” Jemma glared at him. Nothing fake about that. She was still pissed at him for whatever reason.

  He sighed. “I was going to say, if you’ll wait a few minutes, I’ll drive us all over. The Jag is parked—”

  “Hello, he has a Jag!” Donna pushed past him and into his little apartment. “I do not need to hear another word.”

  “Oh, me, too.” Britney followed her girlfriend inside. “I love cars. Big cars. Little cars. Is a Jag a car?”

  He stepped aside, giving them room to make themselves at home and held the door for Jemma.

  “I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he said, trying to remember why they’d quarreled. “Let me at least drive you around. The street is still icy. And your shoes are killer.”

  She tilted her luscious red lips into a grudging smile. “Well, for the sake of the shoes.” She walked inside, stopping in the doorway to look up at him. “Will Austin be joining us?”

  “He’s already there.” Heath tried to keep his voice level. He thought he’d succeeded, but she lifted one suspicious eyebrow as if to say “good try bub, now spill your guts”. “We… had a misunderstanding after you left. He’s… with Rory. Upstairs. Or he was.”

  She lifted her other eyebrow to join that one. Then sighed. “At this rate, you’ll drive him into Rory’s arms for the last time. If you want him… then do something about it.”

  “Who says I want him?” Heath tried to play it off. He wasn’t in the habit of chasing his employees.

  “The quiet, desperate yearning in your eyes whenever someone says his name. Or when he comes into a room. Or when he speaks. Or… especially when he’s with Rory and you think no one is watching you. By their own admission, they are nothing but friends. And as much as I adore Rory, Austin is absolutely wrong for him. Upsetting Austin makes him lean on Rory, and next time, there might be more between them than just friends.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, afraid that maybe she was hitting too close to a truth he wasn’t ready to tell himself. “I’ve stayed longer than I intended.”

  “Bullshit.” She stood on her toes, lifting her face to within inches of his. “You’re going to go into that attic and drag more crap out for us to dig through for the next two weeks that we’re here because you’re hooked on knowing where you came from. And because Austin is here, and prime for the picking. That’s your style. I can read you a mile away. Guys like you. You’ll be here until you get what you want.”

  “Which is?” Expecting to hear one more variation of his interest in the otherwise engaged curator, Heath crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

  Jemma smiled at him, in that cat who ate the canary way of hers, and patted him on the cheek. “Why, darling, that’s simple, you want to know why you have a dead man’s face. And you want Austin, on his knees, in your bed.”

  “And the ghosts. Don’t forget the ghosts.” Britney called out from his tiny kitchenette, where she’d raided his fridge and had a bottle of wine that had been chilling there since he arrived. “Where’s the corkscrew?” She laughed hysterically, waving her free hand. “I said screw.”

  Donna and Jemma both rolled their eyes. “That one is a special kind of strange,” Jemma whispered as she squeezed past him and tottered into his room to the kitchen where she opened a drawer. Pulling out the implement, she handed it to the shorter woman, while Donna plundered his little closet and found his garment bag.

  She pulled out his Tom Ford suit and whistled. “Oh, honey, you put your fine ass in this, and you’ll have every man in this Podunk town down on their knees. Hell, I’d get down on my knees for you in this suit.”

  Heath darted across the room and took his suit from her. He started to put it back, but looked at how the three of them were dressed. Even if Austin didn’t attend, this was New Year’s Eve. Last year he was a newlywed, on his honeymoon, watching the new year coming in from a balcony in London. And this year—

  He took the suit into his bathroom.

  He was as good as divorced. He was free. And… alive.

  Maybe more alive than he’d ever been in his life.

  So why the fuck shouldn’t he dress like he owned the place? When he literally owned the place.

  And if Rory didn’t like him romancing his boyfriend… then tough shit.

  When he came out Jemma was the only one waiting for him. “Britney couldn’t wait. She dragged Donna out into the cold. Is the offer of the ride still available?”

  “Absolutely.” Heath strode across the room in bare feet to his bag and pulled out the accessories to go with it; socks, shoes, tie, cuff links, watch.

  “Leave the tie. Unbutton two buttons.” Jemma took the gold links from him and turned back his cuffs.

  “You’ve done this before,” he said stupidly.

  She winked at him. “Not all of us are from small-town America. I might not have run in your circles, but, doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around a cotillion or two.” Fastening his cuffs, she unbuttoned his shirt to her satisfaction, finishing by flicking imaginary dust from his shoulders. She met his gaze and held out her hand, “Jemma Hervau of the New Orleans Hervaus nice to meet you.”

  He took her hand and lifted it almost to his lips and bowed. Her lips tilted up in a smile. “I declare Mr. Butler, you do clean up nice.”

  “Same to you, Miss Scarlet.” He returned her smile.

  “But Rhett, dahling, you can’t go to the ball like that, you haven’t any shoes on.”

  “So, I haven’t.” He felt the world lift off his shoulders as he settled in the chair and pulled on his socks and shoes.

  When he was dressed, he searched for his wallet and keys. “Hey, Jemma, have you seen my…?” He heard the jingle of keys and turned to find her grinning like the cat who ate the proverbial canary.

  “Looking for these?” His keys dangled from her not so dainty hand. Her smile became a smirk. “Too bad, hon, I’m not giving them back.”

  She opened the door and raced out into the cold. The woman could run in heels. Why was he not surprised?

  He heard the purr of the engine he knew so very well. He’d parked in the driveway behind the apartments. He closed his apartment, not bothering to lock up, and walked around to find her waiting for him in the driver’s seat.

  Without batting an eye, Heath climbed into the passenger side and held on as she peeled out of the driveway and floored it down the back road into the dark.

  “Oh, if only the roads weren’t iced over. I’d open this kitten up and make her purr for me.” Jemma did some purring of her own. Her voice sexy as hell. And if Heath didn’t know better, he’d swear— “If I was a man, you’d be all over me right now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Heath had to swallow hard to get a single word to come out. “You’re wrong.”

  “Oh, honey, no I’m not.” She took his hand and placed it on her thigh. The muscle there hard as he trailed his fingers under her skirt. Brushing against— “Oh. Hell.”

  She laughed when he pulled away. “Don’t worry, sugar, you are not my type. Neither is Austin. Or either of those two hussies.”

  “But Rory is.” Which explained so damned much. “And you want me to get Austin out of the way.”

  “If that’s the way you want to look at it. Rory is pining for a man who doesn’t see him as anything but a brother. And Austin… is pining for who the hell knows. He’s stuck in his books. In his workroom. In that damned museum. Even if Rory isn’t interested in my… type. He is still a man with needs.”

  “And what if they are really in love?”

  “What’s the harm of pushing them to, as the saying goes, shit, or get off the pot.”

  “Fuck or shut up would be a better analogy,” he said as she slowed down to navigate the narrow trail out to the main road. The shadow of spread angel wings drifting over the car gave him the shiver
s.

  “I hate this cemetery. Something about it gives me the creeps. I’ve avoided it since the day we toured it. Just… there’s bad juju here.” Jemma’s voice took on a different huskiness as she sped up. “Really bad juju. Something about this whole place is… just not right. It needs to be cleansed.”

  Heath tried to avert his gaze from the shadowed monuments rising in the snow and ice-covered field. He couldn’t. The large stone angel in the middle made every hair on his body stand on end.

  “Like I said. Bad juju,” Jemma whispered once she pulled out onto the street and headed to the front of the property.

  She parked in a space right in front of the house and cut the ignition. “Thanks for the ride, Heath.” She gave him his keys and leaned back in the seat. “Well, aren’t you going to open the door for a lady?”

  “You’re no lady,” he couldn’t help saying.

  She winked at him. “Remember that if things don’t work out the way you hope. Who knows, maybe you have a kink you weren’t aware of.”

  “Who knows. Maybe.” He climbed out and pocketed his keys before walking around to open the door for his new lady friend.

  “My new Ferragamos thank you, kind sir.” She slid out of the car, one long, shapely leg at a time. Her large hands nearly disappearing into his own.

  “You’re welcome.” He tried not to let his gaze stray to the hem of her skirt. He tried not to wonder what she would look like out of that dress. He held out his arm, and she took it. Her heels making her nearly as tall as him. She leaned against him. Her body, sending strange signals to his brain.

  “Relax, honey, it’s not going to jump out and attack you. I promise. It’s tucked up in there, safe and sound.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.” He lied, mostly, and opened the door to the pub, his hand drifting to her lower back to allow her to go inside first.

  “Wasn’t it, though?” She leaned, gazing up at him with sparkling gray eyes that promised things he’d never even considered.