by Sam Burns
“Jerk.”
“Always.”
“I guess that’s part of it,” Jon conceded with a put-upon sigh. “I like spending time with him. I know it’s like, dopamine or something, and you’re about to give me a speech about how many relationships are likely to fail, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I feel good around him.”
Miles nodded in agreement. “Studies do show that dopamine makes people’s brains react to new relationships like cocaine. And that people get into relationships based on looks and physiology more than ‘feelings,’ which makes them think they’re in love before they even know the other person. And, of course, most relationships fail.”
Jon loved his brother. He loved him a lot. Sometimes, though, he was taken by the nearly uncontrollable urge to whack him in the back of the head.
“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a shot, though, right?” Miles asked, making a slow turn into the parking garage. “I mean, if it’s got a chance of making you happy, why not try it?”
The urge to whack Miles faded, and Jon slumped against his seat. “Yeah. And he’s actually a nice guy. I know, I know, I don’t know him that well, but I’m a pretty good judge of character, aren’t I?”
Without looking at him, Miles gave a sad smile. “You did call Leigh pretty early, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t—”
“No, I know you didn’t say anything.” Miles waved him off. “And you weren’t a jerk about it. But I’m not completely stupid. I may not always get people, but I know you, bro, and it’s not hard to tell when you don’t like somebody.”
That made a lot of sense. “But you still dated her.”
Miles passed two empty spots before finding one that suited him and pulling in. “I thought she was right for me. Dopamine. Physiology. Plus, I convinced myself that you were dismissing her because you’re gay and she’s a girl.” Jon turned to deny the idea vehemently, but Miles held up a hand. “I know. Believe me, I know. You’ve never done anything like that. I had no rational reason to believe it. It was just . . .”
“Dopamine?”
“Yeah.” Miles slipped out of his car and headed for the exit. “This way, right?”
“Have you been before?” Jon asked, realizing that he hadn’t asked earlier, and Miles seemed to know exactly where he was going.
Miles shook his head. “No. I looked it up on Google before heading out, to make sure I knew where the garage was and all that stuff.”
Jon shook his head and sighed. “Of course you did. You didn’t need me to point it out at all.”
“Sure I did,” Miles denied. “I’ve never been in person. It was helpful.”
He didn’t know if he was being bullshitted, but Jon didn’t see a reason to argue the point. “Remind me why I agreed to take you to Wilde’s?”
“Because you took pity on your lonely single brother?” Miles suggested. When that didn’t get agreement, he shrugged. “Because I wanted to see what kind of place would be named for Oscar Wilde, but not be stereotypical enough to tick you off.”
“Seriously?” Jon asked. “That’s a stupid reason. The pity one is better. Keegan liking Oscar Wilde isn’t that stereotypical.”
“It’s really not,” Miles agreed easily. “But I didn’t expect you to have worked that out. I mean, you tell me the guy takes every chance to insult his own education, but how many people with no higher education name their business after a dead Irish playwright?”
Miles was right—Jon hadn’t thought about that. There were a dozen possible reasons, but Keegan had already proven that he didn’t adhere to socially constructed stereotypes.
Keegan had told him that he was taking Saturday off to go see his father. At least he wouldn’t feel like a clingy teenager showing up to his maybe-boyfriend’s workplace just to see him. It hadn’t even been awkward when Keegan mentioned his dad. They were getting better at this.
He and Miles had decided to go early to avoid the lunch crowd, so it was barely eleven in the morning when they walked in.
Brigit was obviously surprised to see them, but Jon held up a hand. “I know he’s not here. My brother wanted to see the place, so I brought him for lunch.” A thought occurred to him. “You have a free table, I hope?”
She snorted at him, reaching over to grab menus. “Of course we have a table for Keegan’s boyfriend.” Jon opened his mouth to refute the title, but she gave him a hard look. “And his brother. Hi, Agent Hottie’s brother. I’m Brigit.”
Miles, damn him, looked amused. “Miles,” he told her.
Giving Miles a cheeky smile, she turned and motioned for them to follow her. Her hips swayed more than he’d ever seen before as she led them over to Keegan’s table. Jon almost protested the seating, but figured Keegan wasn’t going to need the spot.
“Best table in the house,” she told them brightly as she set the menus down. “Now I know you’re not a wine guy, so what can I get you to drink? Scotch? An appletini?”
Jon must have made a face at that suggestion, because the two of them both laughed. He returned the laughter with a scowl. “Just water, please.”
“I’d have an appletini, but I’m driving,” Miles told her, leaning on his hand and smiling up at her. “Any fancy drinks that don’t involve alcohol?”
“Oooh, Mario makes an amazing virgin mojito, if you want,” she said, looking like she was thrilled with the conversation. “Or a white russian.”
Miles cocked his head and considered that for a moment. “So, like, chocolate milk?”
“I don’t know what he puts in it,” she told him with a shrug. Her look went a little calculated as she studied Miles. “But my son, Eric, loves them.”
The way she worked it into the conversation was so unsubtle that Jon was reminded of teenage soap operas, and wondered if the cast of 90210 were going to show up. Miles, equally obvious, turned his head to look at her left hand. She turned her whole hand, order pad and all, so her bare ring finger faced him.
Jon groaned. “Should I leave now?”
“Of course not! I’m working right now.” Brigit looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but turned back to Miles with a coy smile. “So, what can I get you to drink, since your brother is boring?”
“I’ll have that white russian,” Miles told her, head still braced on his hand, smiling up at her with a dopey expression.
She gave him one last flirty wave as she went to put in Miles’ ridiculous drink order.
“Seriously?” Jon asked.
Miles took a few seconds to watch Brigit go before he met Jon’s eyes. His smile stayed goofy. “What? She’s pretty. And she was nice. You don’t hate her like Leigh, do you?”
Jon rolled his eyes as he picked up his menu. “No. I don’t know her, but she doesn’t give me the bad feeling Leigh always did.”
If anything, Miles’ face got even more dreamy as he picked up his menu. “So, what’s good? Oh, never mind. Already know what I’m getting.”
“You have to get food with your cake,” Jon told him, not even looking up. He knew his brother too well to fall for that trick.
“Yes, Dad.”
Twenty minutes and two more spates of awkward flirting later, they were eating their lunches.
“So, how serious are we talking, Jonny?” Miles asked, completely without context. It didn’t take a genius to know what he’d meant, though.
“I don’t know,” Jon told him. “We’ve been on two dates. I like him. He’s easy to talk to.”
“You guys have anything in common at all? I mean, other than being gay?” Miles asked, making Jon frown at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but if you want to get into a real relationship, having things in common is good.”
“We’re a dating disaster, aren’t we?” Jon asked, shifting the subject of the conversation one degree to the left. “I mean, you have all the information, but you can’t read people for anything. I don’t read the studies, and the first guy I’ve wanted to date in years is the
son of a mob boss.”
Miles shrugged. “My problems are no big deal. I just have to pay attention to my smart little brother when he looks at me like I brought an angry badger home instead of a girl.”
“And me?”
“No, you’re screwed.” Miles grinned, not even looking contrite when Jon gave him a death glare. “You already know the answer, Jon. The guy likes you. You two need to figure out if there’s something there, or if it’s just infatuation that’s being amplified by the ‘forbidden’ aspect. He’s gotta be getting as much crap as you are for this.”
Jon nodded. “Yeah. He compared himself to Juliet. I didn’t ask, but I don’t think that was because of how we met.”
“He’s got a point,” Miles said with a nod.
“I know.”
They were quiet for a moment, and just as Miles looked like he was going to say something else, Jon’s attention was diverted. His mental map of the bar had changed—someone had come in—someone that his peripheral vision was connecting to something important in his memory. He turned to get a better look.
It was the angry guy from the night before. The brighter afternoon light made the highlights in his hair glow more brightly, look even more like a painting instead of a person. He was like the poster boy for the modern American metrosexual.
“Jon?” Miles asked, looking concerned.
“It’s okay,” Jon assured him. He negated his words by catching Brigit’s eye and jerking his head in a silent request that she join them.
Taking a few seconds to drop some water off at another table, she came over, looking worried. “Something wrong?”
“Do you know the guy at the bar? Gray suit, red tie?” Jon described the man, but made a point of not looking in his direction again.
Brigit, game for the subterfuge, bit her lip and looked over at the bar, squinting as though she were scanning for something. She turned back after a minute and gave him a big, fake smile, shaking her head like she hadn’t found whatever liquor bottle she’d been searching for. “You mean Ken-doll guy? Nope. I think he might have been here last night, though.”
Jon gave her a shrug, nodding faux-understanding. “He was.”
She went a little pale. “You don’t think he’s like, some old enemy of Key’s dad or something? That’s never happened before.”
It took Jon less than ten seconds to come to a decision. If the man had been on the level, he’d have approached Keegan the night before, not skulked around trying to avoid attention. He stood and marched over to the bar, leaving Brigit and his brother staring after him.
The guy gave him a smile that said he knew he was busted. “Wondered if the little drama over there meant I’d been made.”
“It did. Why are you here?” Jon wasn’t sure Keegan would approve of him butting in, but the perceived threat had put him in full-Agent-Brookfield mode.
The man turned his palms face up, like a magician proving he had nothing in them. “There’s no need to be confrontational. I’m an old . . . friend of Keegan’s. I just came to see him. Phil Ames,” he finished, holding his hand out.
“And that’s why you decided to stare at us last night instead of actually talking to him?” Jon asked. He ignored the outstretched hand.
“Wow,” the guy said. His facial expression said he was impressed by Jon’s observational skills, but something in it rang false. “Can’t get one past you, can I? I didn’t talk to him last night because he was obviously on a date, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” The look turned salacious, and Jon had to fight to keep his face neutral.
Okay, it was an angry sort of neutral.
“But here you are again today.”
“Like the proverbial bad penny, right? That’s me.” The guy gave Jon a twice-over, but it wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Jon?” Brigit asked in a small voice, coming up behind him. “Is everything okay? Should I call someone?”
“Everything’s fine, Brigit,” he answered evenly. “This is Phil. He says he’s an old acquaintance of Keegan’s, and he’d like to see him. Maybe you can set up an appointment for him.” He gave Brigit an encouraging look. He knew she wasn’t Keegan’s keeper, or secretary, or any such thing, but he hoped that she’d keep playing along.
The woman took silent direction like a dream. He wished she worked for the bureau. She pulled out her notepad and pencil. The icy expression she’d given Jon the afternoon he’d come to ask Keegan out had nothing on the one she gave Phil. “Keegan will be busy through the weekend, but he’s available Monday between ten and noon. I’ll need a phone number so we can call to cancel if he’s detained in some way.”
Phil gave a chuckle that felt neither amused nor friendly to Jon, and nodded at him. Jon nodded back, acknowledging that he’d won, but only the current battle in the war Phil was stirring up.
After giving Brigit his information, Phil smiled at both of them again, dropped some bills on the counter next to his unfinished drink, and walked out.
“I don’t like that guy,” Brigit said as he walked out the door.
Miles, having been completely forgotten, piped up from behind her. “Why not? He smiles funny, but he seemed friendly enough.” Brigit looked at him like he’d grown an extra head, and Miles scrunched up his nose. “Is this a good time to mention that I’m a terrible judge of character?”
Brigit’s expression turned softer, and she put a hand on Miles’ shoulder to lead him back to the table. “Do you like cheesecake?”
Unable to shake the uneasy feeling the man had left in his stomach, Jon had to tear his eyes away from the door. He hoped Keegan wasn’t annoyed with how he’d handled things, but he wasn’t sorry he’d done it. He did not like Phil Ames.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keegan Is Too Sexy
When he showed up at eleven on Saturday night, the look Brigit gave Keegan worried him. He almost expected another FBI agent to be waiting in his office, but one who was considerably less pleasant than Jon. Admittedly, pretty much anyone would be harder to deal with than Jon, but it was still something to consider.
There was no one in his office, thankfully, but a few minutes after he arrived, Brigit knocked on his open door.
“I know, I’m not supposed to be here because it’s my day off.” He leaned back in his chair far enough to put his feet on the surface of his desk.
Brigit made a disgusted face and motioned toward his shoes. “Not sanitary, Keegan. You eat at this desk. And you’re not used to having Saturday off, so I can forgive you coming in for a little while. How’s your dad?”
Keegan let his feet fall to the floor, looking at the scuff marks the heels had left on the wood. It was an odd thing for him to do, putting his feet up like that. It reminded him of his father. He shook his head to clear it of the random distraction. “Crappy. Could be worse, but he’s not doing great.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked genuinely sympathetic.
Keegan loved Brigit for it. Almost everyone hated his father in one way or another, even he and Owen. Brigit had absolutely no feelings about Brendan Quinn. She didn’t work for him, had no interest in him, and only cared about him insomuch as he affected Keegan’s life.
He pulled his handkerchief out of his suit pocket and moved to clean the marks off his desk, but she grabbed his hand to stop him. She put the kerchief back in his pocket and straightened it, then held up a finger indicating for him to wait. She left and came back a few seconds later with a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. There was something off about the way she was acting, and it was more than exhaustion at the end of a long day. She’d been working for him since soon after he opened Wilde’s more than four years earlier, and he could read her well.
She paused her scrubbing to look up at him. “There was a guy here.”
“Gee, that doesn’t sound ominous or anything.”
She held a hand in front of her, then lifted it to massage her brow as though she had an oncoming headache.
“Sorry. It’s just . . . He said his name was Phil. He was creepy. He sat and watched Jon have lunch with his brother.”
Keegan took a few seconds to absorb that sentence. Phil. Jon. Jon’s brother? “Jon was here? With his brother?”
“Seriously? Some guy is stalking your boyfriend, and you’re worried about something like that?” She rolled her eyes skyward. Her eyes went shifty when she looked back at him, though, and she was blushing a bit. “Yeah. Jon’s brother wanted to see Wilde’s, so he brought him.”
Keegan smirked at her. “Jon’s brother as good looking as he is?”
She gave an airy sigh and nodded. “So pretty.”
“Did he like it?” he asked, more worried about that than anything else.
Brigit rolled her eyes at him again. “Of course he did. There’s no reason for a rational person not to like it here. We run a fine establishment, Keegan.”
It was true, they did. They both worked six day weeks to make sure the place was as good as it could be, not to mention the uncountable number of hours Drew worked. Keegan liked to think all that effort showed. He nodded his agreement. Then he remembered that the conversation was supposed to be about Phil.
That was the moment that Keegan realized how much his priorities had changed in the last six years. It wasn’t only that his father’s business interests weren’t on the list anymore. It was that the man he’d spent two years with, whom he had once thought he was going to marry, wasn’t important anymore. Wilde’s serving the best sandwiches in Old Town was important. Jon and his brother having a nice lunch was important.
“Keegan?” Brigit interrupted his musing. “Creepy guy?”
“Yeah. Wait, no. Phil’s not creepy.” He cocked his head, trying to picture his ex-boyfriend. It was hard. He had always dyed his brown hair blond, though the natural color was something like Jon’s. His eyes were . . . brown? Hazel?
Brigit collapsed into one of the chairs across from his desk. “He’s really creepy.”
Keegan started to ask a question, then stopped and reconsidered. Once upon a time, he would have wanted to know how Phil was, but now he had an entirely different set of concerns. “Phil bothered Jon?”