Page 47 of Slow Heat
He hoped alcohol-induced loose-limbed relaxation would kick in soon. He didn’t know which way to turn. Toward Jason standing by the window with eyes only for him? Toward Jason’s parents who mingled with his friends kindly? Or toward the restroom where he could deal with the annoying seepage of slick that refused to entirely stop?
The question was resolved for him when Miner sidled over with a refreshed drink and an eye on his son. “How have you been this week?” Miner guided Vale toward a set of chairs by the bar, but neither of them sat.
“Bored mainly,” Vale answered honestly. “I’m accustomed to full days. I need to find a new, suitable schedule for myself. I lazed about quite a lot, I’m afraid.”
“Rightly so. You’ve had a lot to think about, I’m sure. There’s so much to consider.”
“Yes, so many unknowns. Like what will become of my properties, my retirement accounts, and the inheritance from my parents.”
Miner paled slightly, his eyes glowing with empathy. “I can only imagine the worry this is causing you. I promise we won’t pressure you to make a quick contract.”
“Now, now, you’re getting dangerously close to negotiation talk,” Yule interrupted with a soft smile for Miner. “Let’s just get to know each other tonight, shall we? We don’t want to get off on a stressful foot.”
Vale didn’t know how Yule couldn’t see that all the sharp-toothed uncertainties swimming around them were what made everything so tense. If Vale had some sense of whether he was going to be able to continue his life mostly unmolested, he’d be happier. Or at least less worried. It was always better to know than to be left wondering.
“Jason,” Yule called out, moving across the room toward his son who still stood by the window. “Have a glass of water.” He pressed it into his son’s hand and watched as Jason sipped it. Vale noted the gentle way Yule slid an arm around Jason’s shoulders and whispered something into his ear, making Jason’s cheeks flush as he nodded with a grateful smile.
“I see where Jason got his looks,” Vale said to Miner. “With your height and build and Yule’s blond hair and blue eyes, you’ve made quite a handsome son.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Miner said with a proud gaze across the room to where Yule and Jason talked quietly. “He’s a smart young man as well.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“He loves science especially. All types, but he’s majoring in biology.” Miner turned to Vale. “What about you? What did you study?”
Vale almost laughed at the question. He knew Miner and Yule were both entirely aware of his education and employment history. A private investigator would have supplied them with most of the facts of his life by now. But small talk was small talk, and there was no way around it. “I studied Literature, and took a Creative Writing minor with a focus on poetry.”
“I see. What drew you to poetry?”
Vale sensed Jason was moving closer.
“I’m not sure. I’ve always been interested in it, since I was a small child.”
Jason came to stand behind the bar, sipping his water, and listening with a greedy expression, like Vale’s words were sex and chocolate rolled into one. He turned slightly to allow Jason to feel part of the conversation.
“Did your pater or father read poetry to you then?” Miner asked.
“No, but when I was old enough I used to read my father’s poetry books. I was six the first time I tried my own hand at iambic and trochaic.”
“Were they any good?” Jason spoke quietly. Vale heard an echo of his adamant statement that the poem Vale had won the bookmark ribbon for must have been good.
“For a child? Perhaps. But they were, in fact, terrible of course. I believe my first poem was called ‘The Teddy Bear’s Tea Party’. The milk spilled and the stuffed animals mourned. It was quite dramatic.”
Jason’s smile was sun-bright and Vale’s heart clenched, desperate for more of it. He cleared his throat and looked away, an unexpected shyness gripping him.
“That’s adorable,” Miner offered. “Jason was much more into bugs and spiders as a child. Tea parties with stuffed animals was more my idea of fun, but he always had me down in the dirt.”
Vale caught Jason’s eye, remembering the photos of him as a child—robust, healthy. He could imagine the boy he’d once been wearing short pants and rolling in the grass, laughing. It was a beautiful image.
“Do you still write?” Miner asked.
Vale couldn’t help the scoff that broke through.
Miner laughed. “All right, I admit to knowing the answer to that.”
“Your poems are amazing,” Jason said and then hastily swallowed a giant gulp of water, his cheeks pinking and his eyes darting down to the floor.
“You read them?” Vale’s guts twisted up. He knew his scent had changed because Jason’s nostrils flared slightly with alarm.
