At Brandon’s insistence, they went to the local pub, a two-minute tumble down the cliffs. Or, like, a seven-minute walk.
Walking worked for him.
The local was a beaut. Walls covered with rich colours, enough to lift anyone’s spirits. An establishment that knew the meaning of art.
And music, maybe.
At least, there was a stage at the back. And it was set up for a live show.
He heeled toward the table right in front of it and squished his pretty arse out of sight on the cushioned chair. Sorry, hottie at the bar taking a good ol’ look. But also. Off the one-nighter market.
A whoosh of deodorant passed his left and a suit flashed to his right. Immediately Brandy and Noah picked up the menus and scrolled through their options.
All Zach wanted to feast on was music.
He glanced at Brandy, and blue orbs stole away from him toward lots of fine-print ink. “When does the band come on?”
Quite pink, Brandy raised his arm and beckoned over a stout, smiling sixty-something.
“Brandon! Nice to see you again so soon. You’re not normally here on a Sunday.”
Brandy fiddled with the knot of his tie. He could fiddle it a little looser if he liked. Maybe protect it from ketchup by sliding it into an inner pocket . . .
“John, this is Noah and Zach, they’ve taken up residence in Barton Cottage.”
John’s eyes lit up and he yelled out to the wild-haired woman working the bar. “Jenny! New locals.”
The woman vaulted over the counter to greet them. Well, not exactly, but she might have, what with the bull-like energy. “Locals,” she boomed. “And cute ones too. Are you single? Because let me warn you, if you are don’t come here Wednesdays unless you’re looking to be eaten alive.” Her jolly brown eyes landed on Noah. “You’re just my niece’s type.” They whipped to Zach. “You’re mine.”
Brandy’s chair jerked hard against the floor like all Jenny’s energy had a physical impact. “Let’s spare our new neighbours the matchmaking, hmm?”
Jenny laughed. Her gaze drilled into Brandon and then cut sharply to Zach. “Oh, I see how it is.”
Zach winked at her. No matchmaking with local women for him and his brother. No matter how . . . full of personality. “Yep. Gay.”
“You leave out all the good details, Brandon.”
Zach slung an arm around his friend. “He goes by Brandy.”
John, who’d been chatting with Noah, was suddenly silent. Jenny paused to breathe too. They stared bug-eyed at them. “Brandy?”
Brandy cleared his throat. “Right. Absolutely. Definitely.”
Laughter walloped out of Jenny. “Well, I never. I’m happy for you. Brandy.”
Zach waited until her eyes stopped squinting and tipped his head toward the stage at Brandy’s side. “There’ll be bands?”
“Bands already?” Jenny dropped her eyes to their hands, like she expected them to be drinking. “Not a little early?”
Zach gasped. “Never too early to feed the soul!”
“Oh my! He’s quite the romantic.”
Jenny got all the points for that enthusiasm. “And proud of it.”
Brandy had tensed up a bit. And no wonder! His chair didn’t have a cushion like Zach’s did. He rubbed Brandy’s arm. “I hope your arse is okay.” Poor Brandy paled. “Jenny, do you think you could get Brandy a cushion?”
“Takes good care of you too, I see.” Jenny was a whirlwind of laughter as she located and brought them an extra cushion.
Brandy looked at Zach with the most adorable disbelief. Like the man had never had a friend take care of his needs before. Honestly, the poor guy.
John clapped at something Noah said, stealing Zach’s attention. Something, something, something, sanctuary. Ah. Penguins.
Again, Zach’s gaze drifted to the stage. He couldn’t help it.
Jenny made it sound like there wouldn’t be any music for a while. And fair, the pub wasn’t exactly buzzing. But a few tables chatted at the back.
His sigh drifted toward the guitar on a stand onstage. It looked so forlorn there. All alone.
“You all right, Zach?” Brandon said. Maybe because Zach was clutching his arm like a ragdoll’s.
Zach grinned apologetically and released him. “Whose is the guitar?”
John caught his eye. “Mine, actually. I dabble in a little country from time to time.”
“Are you playing tonight?”
“Later, after I’ve fed you lot.”
Zach surged to his feet. “Will you let your new neighbour entertain you?”
“Be my guest.”
Zach pushed away from the table, all eager limbs, and made it halfway to the stage before . . .
He doubled back to Brandy and dropped his lips to his ear.
“This one’s for you.”
All the way through dinner, and the entire death-trek back to the cottage, Noah kept looking at him funny.
Sheets came out of the linen closet, warmed from the hot-water cylinder.
Noah plucked out another set for his own bed. “What was that, Zach?”
“What was what?”
“The song. For Brandon, at the pub.”
Zach grinned. It’d felt so good, reaching deep into his soul to give, well, the performance of his life quite probably. Must’ve been. Brandy’s eyes had lit like they’d never heard music before as Zach’s voice sailed toward him on a current, forging a connection between them. “That was a job interview.”
