Page 45 of The Pretender
“Me too. Brogan, get over here.”
“At your service, cuz. What’s up?”
“We’re trying on clothes now. Give us your honest opinion.”
Brogan rubs their hands together, grinning. “I always do.”
FOURTEEN
amadeo
This is weird.Good, but weird.
Standing behind Balt while he pays for mine and Brogan’s shoes—he insisted on it to thank Brogan for driving us around—is a new experience. Outside of a few guys buying me dinner and drinks in the hopes of getting me in their beds later, I’ve never had anyone dish out serious cash on my behalf for no other reason than kindness. He already knows he’ll be in my bed tonight.
The man stirs my curiosity. I guess on some level I know being an accountant is a lucrative career, but he carries himself more like a billionaire boss than a number cruncher. What could be so stressful in his life that he wanted to run away from it for a while?
I’m usually an “at face value” kind of guy. I’ll assume the best unless you give me reason not to, but something about Balt makes me want to dig under his surface and learn more. He’s so fascinating. Or maybe it’s mysterious. That could be. He seems open, but there’s an air about him that he’s not revealing all there is to the story.
“I’m starving,” Brogan says. “Lunch?”
“I could eat,” Balt says, glancing over at me with an eyebrow raised.
“Definitely.”
“What is this town known for food-wise?”
“Brats,” Brogan says. “It’s a Wisconsin thing. Also German food.”
I point at a Japanese restaurant we’re passing. “We have a lot more choices than we used to. Mostly everything you’re used to. Maybe not a ton of celebrity owned or super posh restaurants, but we have a good variety.”
“Anything you’re in the mood for?” Brogan asks.
“You’re the experts,” Balt says. “You decide.”
Brogan pauses on the sidewalk, tapping their chin. “There’s a really good Mexican joint about two blocks from here. Excellent tacos.”
“Balt?”
He nods, smiling at me. “I like tacos.”
We walk along the sidewalk while Brogan plays tour guide, pointing out various points of interest for Balt. He’s gazing ahead at the capitol building with a pleasant expression on his face.
“A little different, huh?”
Balt smiles, nodding at me. “In a nice way.”
“Here it is,” Brogan announces as we stop in front of a tiny storefront with zero tables inside. “We can eat in the square.”
The menu choices are decently priced, so I insist on buying lunch for the three of us, which Balt accepts reluctantly and Brogan does joyfully. We walk back out to the square, but the closer we get, the more I realize sitting outside is a ridiculous idea.
“It’s too cold for this, Brogan. Let’s head back to the car.”
Brogan tilts their head back, gazing up at the sky, then their shoulders sink. “You’re right. The sun is hiding behind the clouds again and that breeze is getting colder.”
“Thank fuck,” Balt mumbles. “I was starting to think you Wisconsin people have cold deflecting superpowers.”
Brogan cackles. “We’re pretty hardy, but we have our limits too. I think the temperature has dropped since we started shopping.”
