Page 38 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“Jake’s Day. I haven’t been to one in years. If it hasn’t changed, and I don’t see why it would have, it’s a bit like a cross between a 4th July parade and a farmers’ market. Lots of stuff for kids and families, cook offs, a fireworks display in the evening. I loved going as a kid, missed a couple of years when I was a teenager, because my friends and I thought it was uncool. Local bands play, most of them terrible—”
“Oh my god, not the Cowboy Combo?” Lucian clutched at his chest, and laughed.
Arlo grinned. “They’re probably the headline act, so don’t get your hopes up you’ll be listening to… chamber music.”
Lucian widened his eyes. “Chamber music?”
“Sure. Isn’t that what the aristocracy listens to?”
“Not this very minor, way down the scale aristocrat.”
Arlo snorted in derision. “But still an aristocrat. A coat of arms on the teapot? Oh, I think I rest my case.”
Lucian chuckled. “Bibi told me I’m going with her. Apparently, she’s organizing a group of her friends. Trouble is, I’ve met some of them…”
“And you’d rather not repeat the experience.”
“Hmm. I appreciate the gesture, though. She’s a bit of a mother hen on the quiet.”
“Francine’s more mama bear. She’s been making noises about dragging me along, and I need a good excuse to say no. I think she might have another gay cousin.” He shuddered, and Lucian laughed. “Perhaps we can both escape others’ plans for us?” Arlo’s gaze locked onto Lucian’s.
“Sorry, I don’t… Oh, you mean perhaps we should go together? It’d get us both out of a fix. Although I’m not sure I like the idea that I’m a convenient excuse.” Lucian grinned, in the hope it took the sting out of his words, yet the thought that Arlo might think the two of them going together was merely expedient sat like a block of ice in the pit of his stomach.
“Hey, you’re not an excuse for anything, and never for me. You hear that?” Arlo’s words were as steady as his gaze, and Lucian nodded as the ice in his gut melted.
“Yes, I’d like that.” Just as friends, nothing more, because this was the kind of thing friends would do together.
Arlo pushed himself up to standing. “That’s great. I’d better go, I guess. I need to speak to Tony. I’ve been avoiding his calls since I got back from New York, but I’d better get it over and done with even though I think I’d rather have my eyeballs skewered onto red hot spikes.”
“Oh, right. Sure.”
Lucian got to his feet, and they faced each other, just inches apart. Arlo’s smile looked easy and relaxed, but it was a facade as his shoulders hunched as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Lucian returned the smile, but it felt stiff and strained. Now the moment had come to say goodbye. He pushed his glasses up his nose; his finger slipped, and he dug himself in the eye.
“Ow!”
“Oh, Lucian,” Arlo said softly, shaking his head. “I’ve never met anybody like you before.”
“Then count yourself lucky.” He’d been told that before, but not the way Arlo had said it. From Arlo, it sounded more like a gentle revelation, and Lucian didn’t mind that at all.
“Next Saturday then. Call me to let me know what time and I’ll meet you here.”
Lucian nodded. “Of course. So it’s a date then. But not a date date, but an arrangement. That’s what I mean…” Lucian squirmed.
Arlo’s answering laugh was warm and good natured. “Don’t tie yourself up in knots. I know what you mean.”
Once Arlo had gone, Lucian collapsed on the couch. A date that wasn’t a date. He understood. He could get behind that. Just two friends meeting up for the day. They’d discussed it, like the sensible adults they were, going over the good solid reasons for their mutually agreed decision. His brain got it, but his heart, whooping in his chest, absolutely, totally, did not.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“But Arlo, all the family’s getting together — and you’re as much family to me and Hank as our own flesh and blood. And there’s my cousin Marty, who’s come to visit with us for the weekend, and he’s just dying to meet you and—”
“Francine.” Arlo had to shout down the phone and the answering silence was absolute and straining at the seams with hurt. Arlo sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to upset her, but this had to stop. “I really appreciate what you’re doing—”
“Then that’s great, Arlo, real great. So you’ll come meet Marty.”
Arlo couldn’t stop the groan, but he doubted she noticed as she’d grabbed his insincere appreciation and turned it into an offensive weapon.
“He’s a suitable man, Arlo, a veterinarian surgeon specializing in farm animals. He’s got a deep and special interest in goats.”
