“I never said a thing,” Darcy said.
“No, he didn’t. You remember that barbecue we had at yours? You said that she was one of your heroes, and you loved her music, and then we were talking about it after, and you mentioned you were looking for a particular version—”
“Oh God, I did, how the hell do you recall that?” Adrian hugged Rowan. Again. There was way too much hugging going on, and Gideon remained trapped in the corner.
“You know I’m a genius,” Rowan deadpanned, and Gideon bit back the need to make a barbed comment about how his PA had probably written it down in his journal, but that wasn’t really a joke and would have made everything awkward.
“And the dogs,” Darcy said. “Thank you.” He hugged Rowan, and Gideon was less worried about that hug. Them being friends and all.
“What dogs?” Gideon asked because firstly, he was trapped, and secondly, he’d promised himself to make a real effort at this wedding.
He never did get an answer because someone yelled from the other side of the room about toasts and food and a party, and it was as if the tide that had been washing toward Gideon suddenly reversed, and it was only him and Rowan left.
“What dogs?” he repeated.
“Darcy and dogs have been a thing for a while I guess. You probably don’t know but he used to volunteer at a dog sanctuary, donated to a Dogs for Veterans charity. I think he’s still in touch with some ex-army buddies who had worked with the K9 unit. So, yeah, I donated in his name.” He made it sound as if it was nothing, but his gifts were thoughtful, personal, whereas Gideon didn’t even know the two men well enough to come up with anything cleverer than a generic gift card.
“Come on.” Rowan tugged Gideon to the door through which everyone had left. “I don’t want to miss out on champagne!” The smaller room decorated with simple flowers opened up into a bigger room with a few round tables, a large cake, and horrifically, a dance floor. Gideon nearly turned and ran. He could face down multinational corporations, defend his staff and friends to the death, discuss terms with the richest families in the US, and sometimes in foreign countries. He could maneuver his way through the trickiest of negotiations and shield his company, but the thought of a dance floor, which meant dancing?
Nope. Not happening.
Gideon deliberately chose a table near the door—for a swift exit—then changed his mind when that was also too close to the dance area then went to the back but quickly realized he’d be hemmed in again, and then he simply just stopped walking.
“Here, boss.” Rowan encouraged him to sit, and in Rowan’s capable way, he’d found a seat equidistant between dancing, cake, and freedom. He didn’t ask Gideon why he was standing there like an idiot. He just dealt with it, but they weren’t at work. This was a social situation, and Gideon wasn’t a freaking idiot.
“I can find my own damn table,” Gideon snapped.
Rowan blinked at him and pointed at the table in front of which they were standing and a small card that had Gideon Bryant handwritten on it. He was sandwiched between Adrian’s sister, Abby, and Rowan. Sitting in his chair, he settled in for whatever happened next. Well shit, he hadn’t seen the card.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Rowan smiled at him, in reassurance maybe?
“S’okay boss. Here, have some champagne.”
Maybe I shouldn’t drink? Maybe I should stick to water and then I could keep my head and not ask Rowan why the hell he’s marrying some guy I’ve never even met.
But the champagne sure tasted nice.
Two
Rowan
I’m not bothered. It doesn’t bother me…Rowan ran his index finger around the rim of his champagne flute as he fixed his gaze straight ahead. He nibbled his lower lip. Gideon was fidgeting with his phone.
I’m lying. It definitely does bother me. The phone had rung a few times and each time Gideon picked up the phone, huffed, and then canceled the call before turning the phone upside down as if he didn’t care.
“If you’re not going to answer it, just turn it off.” Rowan picked up his glass and took a long drink.
“I can’t just turn it off,” Gideon said with a sigh and placed his cell phone face down on the low coffee table. Again.
The grooms were off on an intimate photoshoot, and the guests were left to their own devices as music played in the main room.
“Who are you avoiding anyway? It’s you, so it’s definitely nobody work related. Oh, do you have a stalker? Maybe a secret lover?” Rowan knew he sounded a little too excited about those possibilities but Nosy might as well have been his middle name.
Gideon shook his head and made a gruff sound. “Who the hell would want to stalk me?”
Rowan leaned his head. “Well, if I had nothing better to do.” He laughed.
“How are last month’s accounts coming along?” Gideon looked at him pointedly.
With a chuckle, Rowan finished his drink and got to his feet. “Would you like another drink?”
“That well, huh?” Gideon quirked an eyebrow at Rowan’s obvious attempt to swerve the topic of work.
With a smile, Rowan leaned down and looked into Gideon’s blue eyes. “Have I ever let you down?” He cast his eyes downward, briefly lingering on Gideon’s lips, noting the stray gray whiskers in his neatly trimmed beard, before settling on the pale blue tie tucked beneath his buttoned waistcoat.
“Maybe you should slow down with the alcohol,” Gideon suggested, sitting back.
“Or maybe you should speed up,” Rowan teased. He pursed his lips. He felt odd. Something fluttered in his chest. Maybe Gideon was right.
Too many bubbles with lunch.
“I’m fine, really,” Rowan said and straightened up. “I’m just loosening up for the dance floor.” He glanced at Gideon, who stiffened as if Rowan had just made a threat on his life. “It should be a good night, right?” He knew full well that the idea of dancing the evening away was far from anything Gideon would consider a “good” night. “Oh, maybe they’ll take requests. I could totally go for some Gaga right about now.”
Gideon cleared his throat and looked anywhere except at Rowan.
Definitely too many bubbles. Gaga had been off limits all this time and all Rowan could think was why did he even say that? He didn’t want things to be weird between them again.
“Or maybe Beyoncé,” Rowan added quickly to drive his one-sided ramblings forward. “But it is almost Christmas, so Mariah would be perfect.” He picked up his empty glass. “Anyway.” I really need to shut up. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Gideon reached for his glass. “Maybe later.” He raised his drink to his mouth and for a moment Rowan was mesmerized by Gideon’s parted lips.
Alcohol is the devil. His brain was focusing on all the wrong things. Wrong, bad, terrible things.
Maybe Mom and Momo are right, and I should find myself a man. He walked to the bar, glancing back at Gideon. Yeah, he needed to find a man—any man who wasn’t his boss.
Returning to the table and setting his drink on it, they fell into an easy silence, or at least it should have been easy apart from Gideon staring at him every so often.