Page 82 of Men in Shorts

Ben’s stomach felt suddenly sour. “Go on.”

“So, last April, the Warriors were about to play the quarterfinal in the Scottish Amateur Cup tournament. We were just starting warmups when we got a delivery. Evan had sent his captain’s armband to Fergus with a note saying he’d run off to Belgium with his new lover and he was never coming back.”

Ben stared at Duncan, trying to process the sheer dickheadedness of Evan’s departure. “If that’s the version of the story from someone whodoesn’thate him…”

“I’m a wee bit biased. Evan brought me into the team and believed in me when I was struggling at the beginning.” Duncan checked over his shoulder, then leaned closer. “I don’t know what happened in Belgium, but when Evan came back in July, he’d changed.”

“In a bad way?”

“In a deep way.” Duncan shook his head. “I’m just a second-year psychology student. I know enough to know that I know nothing.” He stopped drying the glass. “Except that Evan deserves a second chance. And if his Belgian-lover story is just that—a story—then the rest of us deserve the truth. It’s the only way we can move forward as a team again.”

“Are you saying you’d like me to play detective?”

Duncan chuckled. “I’m saying I’d like you—I’d likesomeone—to steal Evan’s Grumpy McGrumpy Pants and never give them back.”

Ben laughed to cover his uneasiness. If Evan wasn’t a callous bastard, he sounded like a man with wounds a one-night stand couldn’t heal. It had been years since Ben had dared to try anything more, so he definitely wasn’t up to Duncan’s challenge.

Evan might be worth it, said that voice inside him, the one which all too often spoke inconvenient truths.

Chapter2

“What’s your favorite pasta shape?”

Evan looked up from his plate—which was definitely not a pasta of any sort—to see Ben slipping into the adjacent chair, which Duncan had just vacated to dance with his partner.

“Linguine.” Evan set down his fork. “Why? Is there another course to be served before the cake?”

“No, thank God.” Ben set his phone on the table between them, then covered it with what looked like the run sheet for the reception. “I just wanted to ask a question that wouldn’t make you sad. So why linguine?”

Evan considered a suggestive answer involving the wordmouthfeel, but didn’t want to lead Ben on. After the rush of their initial chemistry, he’d quickly come to his senses and faced reality.

He couldn’t hook up with Ben—couldn’t so much as have dinner with him—without having MI5 check his background first. Evan had seen colleagues get suspended, even sacked, for failing to follow this protocol. Ben seemed a law-abiding citizen, but if he had dodgy acquaintances or even innocent connections to a hostile foreign power, Evan could lose everything by getting close to him. He’d not made life-shattering sacrifices only to risk his career over a fleeting attraction in a moment of vulnerability.

“Linguine’s like spaghetti,” Evan said, “but with more integrity.”

“That’s the best answer I’ve ever heard.” Ben leaned close and spoke over the din of dance music. “Did you know ‘linguine’ is Italian for ‘little tongues’?”

Evan felt twin waves of heat move up the sides of his neck. “I didn’t know that.”

“Ziti’s my favorite.” Ben gave a coy shrug. “No profound reason—it just feels good in my mouth.”

Evan coughed and shifted in his seat.Must. Resist.But with Ben wearing that impish look and once again biting that delectable lower lip, resistance would take all his strength tonight. “My turn to ask you a question.”

“Yaaaas!” Ben pumped his fist. “Anything.”

“Promise not to turn it round and make it about me?”

“Whatever. I promise. Ask.”

“Why do you love weddings so much?”

“Apart from the kilts?”

“Apart from the kilts.” Evan picked up his glass of wine. “Take your time to think what you really want to say. I’ll wait.” As he sipped, he took the opportunity to scan the room, ensuring no one new and suspicious had arrived. Soon he’d give in to the urge to go out in the snow for a perimeter check.

“Weddings make the world a better place,” Ben said finally.

“How?”

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