Page 6 of Refraction

“Didn’t I just finish telling you there is no way to get a cab in the snow? What happened to trying new things and ‘I ain’t scairt’?” He did his best impression of Tucker, wicked smile and all.

Tucker’s lips tightened, but the guy nodded once. “Right. And I got you to show me the ropes.”

The tension was written all over Tucker’s body, but the man didn’t hesitate again.

“I do this every day, cowboy. You’re going to be fine.” They really weren’t going to find a cab, and it was a long-ass walk to Chelsea even without snow. There really wasn’t another option. He tightened his hold on Tucker’s arm, kept talking to distract him, and led him down into the tunnels.

“I bet you could find some awesome inspiration on the platform while we wait for the train.”Yeah, that’s just great, Cal, tell him the subway is the stuff of nightmares.Brilliant. “I mean, all the people-watching, you know.”

He pulled out his MetroCard, swiped it in the reader, and went through the turnstile first. Then he handed the card back to Tucker. “Your turn. Come on.”

“Is it expensive to ride?” Tucker followed his lead, then handed the card back.

“Two seventy-five a ride,” Cal sang in his best F U voice. “I can spend eleven bucks a day just getting around. Seriously, it’s a crime. I do a lot of walking.”

Once on the platform, Calvin leaned out over the track a little, peering down the shadowy tunnel that faded into total darkness. “See? I bet you could find something to paint.”

“I bet I could.”

When Calvin looked back, Tucker wasn’t staring at the tunnel. Those blue eyes were focused right on him.

Holy. Shit.They sure made ’em hot in Texas. Calvin thought he might be blushing all the way to his knees.

And his heart was pounding.Pounding.

He stared into all that blue for a bit, completely thrown by his lack of words. He always had a flirty comeback. Always. What the fuck was the matter with him?

Tucker didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious either, looking at him as if memorizing every line.

God.“You’re… feeling inspired?” Finally. Words.

“You know it. I could explore every goddamn inch of you and come back starving for seconds.”

Damn. Tucker was definitely not the kind of tourist who needed a map.

He took two steps closer. “Admission is free. Mostly.” He started to reach, curious fingers going for Tucker’s collar, when a train came roaring into the station.

“Honey, nothing’s free. You’re worth spending time on.” The words were confident, warm, but Calvin didn’t miss the way Tucker immediately drew him in, away from the train.

He knew Tucker was a little freaked-out by the whole underground thing, but Calvin still liked the feeling of someone looking after him. He slid an arm around Tucker’s waist, going for reassuring without a lot of fuss. “The A train. We can take this one or wait for the 1. I’ve got all the time you want.”

“I’m at your disposal, honey. You lead and I’ll hunt.”

He took Tucker by the hand and led him onto the mostly empty train car. “You’re just throwing lines at me now, tiger.” He put a hand on Tucker’s chest and shoved lightly. “Sit. It’s a long ride.”

“Yes, sir.” Tucker settled down, pulled a tiny book out of his pocket, and scribbled madly for few seconds before hiding it away again.

“I have a bunch of other raunchy lines if you want to write those in your book too.” Calvin laughed and took a seat right on Tucker’s knees. He’d just see how the cowboy liked that.

“Promises, promises.” Tucker’s hand came to rest on his hip, steadying him easily. “I needed to make sure I remembered a couple of images.”

Artists were always artists. Anywhere. Every artist he’d ever met got distracted by something now and then, making notes, drifting into dreamland. Calvin wasn’t going to have any trouble remembering the imageshewas dreaming up right now. “What did you write down? Or is it super-secret artist stuff?”

“I got no secrets, honey.” Tucker pulled the notebook out and opened it up.

He was there with birds and a tunnel—this bare sketch that was him. Really him. “Everybody has secrets, tiger,” he half mumbled, distracted by the sketch. “Wow.” That was almost embarrassingly real. He just knew his cheeks were turning pink again. He closed the book and handed it back. “I like the birds.”

“I do too. I may have to find a studio for a week or two. I’ll call Marge.”

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