Page 12 of Warrior's Cross

“Not nearly.” Julian groaned. “I’m almost embarrassed I put so much effort into her. Did you know she wrote me a fucking check? Talk about a paper trail.”

“What’d you do with it?” Blake asked in amusement.

“Burned it when I got home.”

“Well, lessons learned,” Blake replied easily. “Will you be here next week? It’s a holiday, you know. I’ll be out of town.”

“If you’ll be out of town, why do you care where I’ll be?” Julian countered.

“I don’t want to think about you sitting in that mausoleum of a house alone on Christmas Eve,” Blake answered sincerely.

“How sweet,” Julian responded flatly. He sighed softly and looked out at the falling snow. “But since you won’t be here, regardless, again I ask: what do you care?”

“Jackass,” Blake accused fondly.

“Yeah. There’s always Christmas Mass,” Julian muttered.

“That doesn’t count as company,” Blake pointed out.

“Yes, well, it’ll do,” Julian assured him, thinking to himself that if he could muster the nerve, he could probably find himself some of Blake’s brand of company. His mind turned again toward thoughts of a dark-haired, blue-eyed waiter.

“Take care of yourself, Julian,” Blake advised knowingly. “Unless something breaks, you’re free ’til Christmas. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, you bastard,” Julian offered with a small smile.

“Of course they will be. Emily’s back from Paris,” Blake said with a laugh, and he hung up.

Julian smiled and shook his head. He folded his phone and tossed it onto the nearest piece of furniture, wondering what in the hell he was going to do with himself for the next several days without any jobs to work or research. He stared out at the snow, pondering the memory of the way the waiter’s lips hadcurved into a smile when he’d watched the snow falling outside of Tuesdays.

He growled slightly, shaking his head in defeat. He thought about that man far too much for it to be healthy. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if Cameron would respond favorably if he made a move.

Julian cocked his head and stared out the window, letting himself wonder and think about a man he didn’t really know.

Cameron stood at the greeting stand cleaning off the board that listed the evening special in artistically rendered colored chalk. Keri had begged off early so she could be at home with her kids on Christmas Eve, and he was the only one working the floor. After the two early evening parties cleared out, the restaurant remained deserted, and he’d sent everyone home but the sous chef and a couple other guys on the kitchen staff. Most people were at home with their families by now, and the weather didn’t help business. It had snowed heavily all day.

He hummed along with the holiday string concerto playing in the foyer, not yet tired of the Christmas music that inundated people everywhere this time of year. Since he had plenty of time, he pulled out the wait staff list for the next week and started working on the schedule.

A slight whoosh of air warned him of someone coming in.

Surprised, he shifted off the stool and stepped around the stand to see how many were in the party. He stopped still and stared for a moment before he could compose himself.

It wasJulian.

The man stepped into the foyer, unwrapping the scarf from his neck as he looked around. When his eyes landed on Cameron, he stopped and cocked his head slightly to the side. “Merry Christmas,” he greeted.

Cameron blinked stupidly in response. “Happy holidays,” he answered finally. Was it Tuesday? Yes. Yes, it was.

Julian glanced around the restaurant and moved closer, appearing to glide as his long overcoat swirled around him. “Thank you for what you did,” he said as he got closer.

Cameron knew exactly what Julian was talking about; he’d thought about it for the past several days, wondering what it was about and what had happened. “You’re welcome. Did—” He paused, aware that he was about to be very rude. “Did you want dinner?” he improvised.

“It worked out fine,” Julian answered without looking away.

Cameron suppressed a shiver, feeling those black eyes focus totally on him. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Good,” he said quietly. “I... wondered,” he said, shifting his eyes sideways before raising them to look at Julian.

Julian nodded, ducking his head as if trying to keep Cameron’s eyes on him. “How much longer would I have to eat?” he asked.

Julian’s eyes were so intent, Cameron tried not to shuffle under his gaze. He glanced at the elegant wrought-iron clock on the wall. “About an hour,” he answered shakily. What would he do with no one in the restaurant but Julian?

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