Page 21 of Melting the Ice

“I know. You’re welcome,” Ramsey said smugly, handing them back their beers. “Now go forth and enjoy yourselves. Dance. Drink. Find someone to flirt with. Or God forbid, someone to hook up with.”

Brody opened his mouth, ready to argue that he didn’tneedto hook up with anyone, fuck you very much,Ramsey, but before he could get any of it out, Dean wrapped one of those huge hands around his forearm and was dragging him out of the kitchen.

“Sure thing,” Dean said, calling back, and Ramsey just cackled with amused laughter.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Brody grumbled as they headed back to the living room.

Dean hadn’t let go of him yet, his grip was firm and Brody was trying to pretend it wasn’t sending sparks shooting though him.

That’s just the tequila talking.

Except that he wasn’t sure it was, entirely.

“He’s harmless,” Dean said.

“You say that until somehow he’s invited someone to your bed and you don’t even know them and God only knows what they expect from you.”

“Would he do that?” Dean frowned. “Did he do that toyou?”

“No, no, I’m just saying,wouldhe? Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems determined to get me to . . .” Brody trailed off, staring up at Dean’s concerned face.

And wasn’t that a fucking trip? He was six feet tall, and he had to lookupat Dean. Brody didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“You’re good just as you are,” Dean said.

The sparks had moved down from his arm and seemed to be pooling in the base of his stomach now, with the two shots of tequila.

Brody didn’t drink much, and if he did, he usually just grabbed a beer. He took a long sip of his now. It wasn’t going to clarify anything, but the booze did help him pretend all of this didn’t exist.

“Thanks,” Brody said. He thought about saying something else. Something like,you ever think about it? Not girls, but guys.

Because he was pretty sure he was thinking about it now.

Dean tilted his head. “Oh, there’s Wes and his boyfriend.” He gestured at a tall blond man in a T-shirt and jeans like nearly every other guy here, and the shorter guy trailing after him, holding his hand and wearing, to Brody’s surprise, a suit complete with bow tieandmatching pocket square.

“Wes,” Dean said, greeting him. “And Marcus. Good to see you.”

“Oh, stop pretending and come hug me, you big lug,” the shorter man said, dropping Wes’ hand and pulling Dean into a hug. “It’s been too long. I never see you during the season.”

“We’re a little busy,” Dean said. He turned to Brody. “And this is my roommate, Brody. Wes, of course, and his boyfriend, Marcus.”

Brody shook Wes’ hand and then Marcus’, giving him another quick glance.

“I know,” Marcus said, chuckling under his breath, “it’s a common question. What’s a fine guy like me doing with this one?” He elbowed Wes in the side. “Someone who wouldn’t know good tailoring if it came up and bit him in the ass.”

But it was clear from the looks they exchanged—fond, with just a lingering bit of heat—exactly what they were doing together.

“Oh, you love me,” Wes teased.

“What’s not to love?” Marcus retorted with a soft smile.

“How did you two meet?” Brody asked.

“See?” Marcus pointedly asked. “He wants to know, too. To answer your question, it was in high school. We got assigned the same project our sophomore year. I was not amused.”

“The dreaded group project,” Wes inserted, but he was beaming, like just hearing Marcus tell this story lit him up inside.

“Yes, definitely. I did dread doing it with you, because I expected that I’d be doingall the work.”

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