Page 108 of Men in Shorts

“Good morning.” Andrew entered the reception room, tousling his damp hair. He was wearing the red silk kimono that accentuated his toned thighs. “I thought I’d take us out for breakfast.”

Colin blinked at him, then looked down at the sheet, wondering how much more he would’ve revealed if Andrew hadn’t come in. “It’s nearly noon already. Besides, you promised you’d fill in your new victim statement.” He gestured to the blank form on the other side of the table. “We could go out for a wee dram afterward as a reward.”

“It’s notafterfilling it in that I’ll need a drink, it’s before.” Andrew headed for the cupboard where he kept the spirits.

“Stop.”

Andrew froze, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the cupboard door. “Sorry?”

“What’s got into you lately?”

Andrew dropped his hand but kept his back to Colin. “What do you mean?”

“The other day, when I put your empty champagne bottle in the recycling bin, I saw—” Colin took a quick, shallow breath. “I saw loads of bottles I’d never drunk from.”

“You drink much less than the average Scotsman.”

Colin had a ready answer. “But I put out the recycling every week, so I know how much is usually in there, and?—”

“The recycling’s not collected during the holidays,” Andrew said, still not looking at him. “The contents of the bin could be misleading.”

“The recyclingiscollected during the holidays, just not on the same days. They sent a schedule in the post.” His words came faster as he stated his case. “I took out the recycling and rubbish on time, which meant the bin was empty until you filled it with bottles—bottles you must have drunk from while I was asleep or at training session, because I don’t remember them.”

He paused his diatribe when he realized Andrew was no longer interrupting him. He was just staring at the floor with a lifeless gaze.

Colin’s stomach clenched.Is this when we fall apart?It had to happen sooner or later. His whole life had been a series of earthquakes and aftershocks, with short periods of stability in between.I knew we were too good to last.

“You know how it is,” Andrew said in a chilling monotone. “During the holidays one grows accustomed to overindulging. And January is so very dark and cold. One needs…something to get through it.”

“I’m worried about you.” Colin rose slowly and went to him. He had to be careful or Andrew would shut down—or maybe even chuck him out of his flat for good. But Colin had always been crap at diplomacy. “You’ve been different since Hogmanay. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been ill. I was so knackered from exams and the holidays and the wedding, it’s no wonder that virus got its claws into me.”

Colin took Andrew’s hand. It felt chilled against his palm, so he rubbed it gently, then brought it to his lips. They’d always been honest with each other—often painfully so. If Andrew was lying now, then what did that say about them?

“Come and sit.” He guided Andrew toward the dining table. “We’ll fill in your statement now, get it over with so we can enjoy our day. You’ll feel good after it’s done.” Colin sat down and gave him a pleading look, wondering how to probe for the truth without driving an even bigger wedge between them.

Andrew pulled out the chair on the other side of the table, touched the blank form bearing his name, then pushed it away.

“I’ve a better idea.” Andrew turned on his heel and headed for the reception room door. He paused at the threshold, then, without looking back, removed his kimono and dropped it on the floor as he moved out of sight. Colin caught a glimpse of his naked body.

Nearlynaked body, that is. There’d also been a flash of what Colin swore was black leather.

“Andrew.”

“Yes?” came a voice from the hallway, laced with false innocence.

“What are you wearing, exactly?”

“Something new,” Andrew said. “Come and see.”

Colin placed his palms on the table to steady himself. Andrew’s recent strange behavior was breaking fresh ground today.Keep the head, he cautioned.Keep the head.

But the thought of leather lying against that perfect skin brought back memories of their early days, when Andrew would submit to Colin, handing over the power he held in real life. When sex had beenplayinstead of a celebration of not being dead.

Those days were so far in the past, they seemed to belong to different men. Their encounter on the castle tower had given Colin hope they could be those men again, this time without the old barriers of fear and mistrust.

He leapt to his feet and hurried to follow, his ankles stiff from yesterday’s match. When he stepped over the discarded kimono lying on the threshold, he saw the guest bedroom door was open.

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