Page 17 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“How do you know that’s what I was?”
Lucian’s flush deepened. Had he been asking about him? The thought was… intriguing.
“Bibi mentioned it. She wasn’t gossiping, honestly. She just, erm, mentioned it.”
Lucian squirming was great fun, and kind of cute, but Arlo put him out of his agony.
“I was, but I specialized in industrial architecture. Ha-has didn’t feature much in plans for factories and warehouses. So, a home with Lords and Ladies, landscaped gardens, and ha-has? Does that mean you’re an aristocrat?”
Lucian shrugged, his face reddening further. “Only minor aristocracy. We don’t get invites to take tea with the royal family. Or not in recent years, but…”
Arlo’s gaze fell to Lucian’s moving lips, glossy with a touch of smeared mayo. His stomach tightened, along with the crotch of his jeans. The sun shining from the hazy blue sky was too hot, the colors in the garden too bright, and Lucian’s voice too far away. He blinked and tried to catch up with whatever it was Lucian was saying.
“… family took a tumble, as they backed the wrong side in some court intrigue. In the mid-nineteenth century they needed money, so a great however many times grandfather married into trade. It caused quite a scandal, but he got the cash which revived the family’s fortunes, and she got a title. My brother became Lord—”
“Hey, guys.” Bibi stood over them, balancing a piled up plate in one hand as with the other she pulled a chair across and joined them.
Arlo pasted a smile on his face, bland and insincere, perfectly designed to disguise what he was thinking. He’d been a master of it, back in New York, in the life he’d put behind him.
“My god,” she said, lowering her voice, “I had to get away from that Wilbur guy. He told me my teeth could do with a bleach, and he tried to sell me a half price dental package. Can you even believe that? Jeez. I’m sorry, Arlo, Francine told me the guy’s your date, but—”
“What?” Arlo jumped, almost upsetting the contents of his plate into his lap. He glanced at Lucian, who stared at him openmouthed.
“You brought a date? Oh my god, and here’s me, manipulating you. I’m so sorry. Wilfred—”
“Wilbur,” Arlo and Bibi said at the same time.
“He’s probably pissed off and with good reason—”
“There is no good reason, because he’s not my date.”
“But Francine said—”
“No!” Arlo cut across Bibi. He steadied his voice. “Francine’s decided she needs to fix me up with somebody. Even somebody like Wilbur. But he is definitely not my date, never was, and never will be. I hadn’t met the guy before today, and I have no intention of ever meeting him again.” Christ, the thought that he could ever be interested in Wilbur…
Bibi leaned forward and gave his upper arm a quick squeeze. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.” She stared hard at him, her shrewd eyes locking onto his, before she cast a quick glance at Lucian. “But just think of all that free dentistry you’d be missing out on. You’d save yourself a fortune. It really is something to consider.”
Arlo pretended to think. “It’s a tempting thought, but I’ve always been able to resist temptation.”
“Have you?” Lucian asked, his eyes growing larger. “I find giving into it surprisingly easy.”
“You do?” Something deep in Arlo’s chest skipped.
“Or maybe think of all those flowers instead.” Bibi picked up her plate, laughing as she wandered off.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Afternoon bleached into early evening, and Lucian yawned as he stretched out. It had been the best time he’d spent so far in Collier’s Creek. He’d not felt… lonely. His gaze settled on Arlo who was chatting with Hank and Francine. Arlo’s affection for them, and theirs for him, was clear in their easy laughter, and in Francine’s light touches.
Though still early, he was tired in a relaxed, loose-limbed way, the way his old dog Wally was after spending a tiring afternoon snoozing in front of the fire, or in shafts of rare, warm sunshine. He closed his eyes and let the chatter of the remaining guests wash over him.
His thoughts drifted, as they so often did, to home. He missed it desperately, yet for the first time since he’d stepped off the plane, the persistent urge to make a run for the airport and book the first flight he could back to Heathrow wasn’t tugging at him.
“Hey. Do you want to walk back with me? I’m passing your place.”
Lucian opened his eyes and looked up. Arlo stood over him, but he was in partial shadow, and he couldn’t read the expression in the lovely hazel eyes that were staring down at him.
“But you don’t know where my place is.”
