Page 81 of Men in Shorts

The bustle of the banquet hall seemed to hush as Evan’s afternoon sky–blue eyes went soft with tenderness. Ben could almost smell the fresh hay and feel the warmth radiating off the sleepy beasts.

“That sounds lovely,” he said, needing to clear his throat.

“It is.” Evan seemed lost in memory. “This year, being home for Christmas meant more than usual.”

Ben felt an unwelcome tug of emotion. He wanted to feel Evan against him—not feel anythingforhim. He changed the subject slightly. “So you’re an animal lover?”

Even blinked, then nodded. “Beasties aren’t fooled by facades. You’ve no choice but to be real with them.” He chuckled, as if at a private joke between him and himself. “So what was your favorite Christmas moment?”

“You’ll think me shallow as a puddle, but my favorite moment was when I got my new phone.”

Evan laughed, deep and throaty. “Sounds special.”

“It was.” Ben covered his face with both hands in embarrassment. “My phone is like my baby—only most people don’t get a new baby every two years.”

“Or if they do, they don’t trade in the old one.”

“Right? Aren’t I awful?”

Evan moved closer and bent his head to speak low near Ben’s ear. “I think you’re probably not awful.”

Ben suppressed a shiver at the feel of Evan’s warm breath. He angled his head to lock their gazes. “We’ll see about that.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Reid?”

Ben turned to see Clive, Dunleven Castle’s part-time footman. “Yes? Is everything all right?”This better be important.

“It’s nearly time for the toast and I can’t find the champagne glasses. They were brought in, apparently?” Clive added with a noticeable cringe.

“Yes, just a moment.” Ben turned back to Evan. “I need to sort this or we’ll all be drinking champagne out of coffee mugs.”

“Away and do your job. I’m not going anywhere.” Evan gestured to the door. “Likely none of us are, if this snow doesn’t stop.”

Ben groaned. It was a long drive from the castle to the nearest road that might be gritted and plowed. As he followed Clive across the banquet hall, Ben opened his to-do list on his phone, tapped the microphone icon, then said, “Ask Lord Andrew about accommodating four dozen unexpected guests in his castle.”

He found Fergus’s young teammate Duncan Harris, whose parents owned a posh home-decor shop, from which they’d donated loads of last-minute items. “Where did you leave the champagne flutes?”

“They’re with all the other glassware. ’Mon, I’ll show you.” They entered the kitchen, where Duncan went to an open box and pulled out a tall, narrow, stemless glass which flared at the top. It could have been a kid’s toy calledMy First Pint.

“Ah.” The footman arched a disapproving eyebrow. “I thought they were bud vases.”

“They’re a modern design,” Duncan said. “Fergus’s choice.”

Clive sniffed. “They’ll need washed and dried.”

“I can do that,” Ben said, desperate to stay on schedule.

“You wash, I’ll dry.” Duncan lifted the heavy box with ease and headed for the sink.

As the two of them worked on the glasses, Duncan said, “I noticed you chatting to Evan Hollister.”

Ben’s face warmed at the sound of the name. “He seemed lonely. But also lovely, and not just on the outside.”

“Erm, yeah. He’s…” Duncan examined the glass as he dried it. “Do you know why he and Fergus broke up?“

“I try not to delve into my clients’ romantic history.” This wasn’t strictly true, as he was a glutton for secrets.

“Normally I mind my own business,” Duncan said, “but if you fancy Evan, it’s better you hear the story from me rather than from someone who hates him.”

---