Page 2 of Flashes

Ethan looked up. “You don’t even know me.” And abruptly he was far too aware of his own general average existence—ordinary face, brown hair, brown eyes, unremarkable height and build, nothing to draw much attention one way or the other—in the presence of glorious elemental color, the vivid hues of Rory Kirke so close, enough that they could’ve touched.

Rory did a little eyebrow lift, entertained, beckoning him in. “Knew who you were before this.”

“You did not.”

“Did so.”

“Prove it.”

“Well, we’d not met before you hired me, you’re right about that. But I’ve been here. Carisburgh.” His eyes were green as forests in sun. On holiday mornings. “When I was dating Jason, you know, Burt’s son—sorry, your groundskeeper, Burt Malone—”

Ethan made a sound. It just came out. He might’ve meant yes I know our groundskeeper, or possibly wait you were dating Burt’s son?, or hang on, did you say were? As in, past tense, not any longer, so you might be single?

Rory paused, but Ethan was busy processing, so he went on, “Jay and I walked round your grounds, a time or two. Just marvelous, this place. The history, the stories. The life of it. And he mentioned you—that you’d put all your money into trying to save it, y’know, all those book profits, you’d stepped in and been responsible and taken it on, after some—ah, neglect.”

That was tactful. Ethan’s grandparents had been hopeless with money, and his parents not much better, not understanding why anything needed updates, renewal, modernization. He nodded because that seemed like the best possible response, when he did not have words at the ready.

Rory’s cheeks went faintly pink. “Sorry. I, ah. Not my place. Not criticizing your family, am I.”

“I’ve said worse. You—you’ve been here. With Jason. You and Jason—but you’re not. Any longer. Er. I mean. Never mind.”

Rory’s face moved from apologetic to gently amused; a carol-note of entertainment appeared at the edge of his mouth, a curve. “Decided we were better as friends, didn’t we?”

“You did?”

“We did. And we’re still on good terms, best of mates and all, and Burt adores me. Like his second son, basically. Holidays, birthdays, all of that.”

“Oh.”

“Read one of your books, by the way.”

“You did?”

“Teenage steampunk witches and all. Not my usual, but my nieces love all that series, all your books, the first two movies, so I figured I’d see what the fuss was about. Not bad, honestly. If you like that sort of thing.”

“That sort of—”

“Said I liked it, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Ethan gave in, deflated. “I suppose you did. Thank you. The third film is coming along nicely, I hear. I don’t have much to do with it, but it’ll be out in the summer. If your nieces are interested.”

“They will be.” Rory reached out, touched Ethan’s cheek. One large callused thumb, meeting skin. Ethan’s cheekbone had never known it could shiver like that with want: bewildered, hungry, craving more of that softly authoritative touch. His thoughts melted into that spot.

“Sorry,” Rory said. The hand lifted. Because it’d simply been a touch. A kindness. “Glitter.”

“What? Oh…yes.”

“Did you have a question for me?”

“Did I…oh. Right. Er. Your staff…who are absolutely wonderful, all of them, please remind me to give them bonuses…er, someone decorated my door. I mean the private staircase, and all the way up to the family rooms. I mean I only don’t want any of the guests to think that’s an open area. To try to explore. I mean of course I lock up, and I’m not trying to be precious about it, I just…it’s where I’m staying, and…”

Rory made a different grumbling sound, dismayed, abashed. “I meant to tell them not to. Didn’t realize they’d already got there.”

“If it’s too much trouble to take down, it’s not a problem—they can leave everything up, I’ll just make sure the doors stay locked—”

“No. You deserve your privacy. Not having guests coming up your staircase, making noise, knocking at your door.” Rory shook his head. “I’ll take care of it. Why’d you say it’s not a problem? If you came down to ask about it?”

“Oh. Er…I was trying to be nice? I know you’re all working so hard? I’m not trying to be difficult.”

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