Zach laughed and snaked a hand toward the cutting board. “God. You’re so dry.”
Brandy slapped his wrist. “Dinner’s in ten minutes.”
Zach retreated with a single slice of zucchini and munched it, smiling wickedly.
Brandy snorted, shaking his head. “So when will you be seeing this philosopher again?”
“He’s not sure. He’s more an in-the-moment type. Not a planner.”
“You sigh like that’s a good thing.”
“It’s a romantic thing.”
“More so than a man working on schedule to woo his lover?”
“There’s just something powerful about seizing the moment.” He pinched another slice off the board. “Please take me in to work tomorrow?”
All the ocean and all the sky met Zach. “I’m planning on it.”
True to his word, Brandy took Zach into work. The next day, and every day. He set up a comfortable office area for him, and came in every other hour to make sure he’d survived the fat antibiotic swallowage and to bring him anything he needed.
“I can do this next bit on my own.”
Brandy stopped at the cubicle door, seemingly stunned he’d escorted Zach all the way into the bathroom. Other co-workers were looking at their boss like he’d lost the plot. The dude washing his hands narrowed his eyes shrewdly, watching them in the mirror. Zach fought back a defensive quip. Brandy wasn’t that old.
Another guy strolled in, eyes pinging to them. This one sighed. Sighed! Like he was sorry for the man or something.
Fools. There was nothing wrong with Brandy. Nothing. He simply had too much heart. And if they didn’t stop looking at him . . .
“Was that a growl?”
Zach snapped his gaze to Brandy’s face. “I don’t like the way your employees” —he spoke louder, glaring at Mr Handwasher as he left— “stare at you.”
Brandy turned, but the last looker dove behind a cubicle door.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
Hardly.
He sent Brandy back to work, did his business, then got to other business. Namely questioning Elliot and Wentworth in the music studio.
He dropped himself onto their couch. The very one Brandy had first found him on.
He patted it fondly.
Elliot and Wentworth spared each other a glance only a shared soul would understand, and then crouched to his level. Honey, their dog, thought it was a party and trotted to join them. Three heads cocked simultaneously.
“Everyone here is rude. Except for you. And Lake. And Cameron. And—the point is, a lot of people are rude.”
Elliot’s voice was the kind of deep that lulled a man to sleep, or something near it. “Tell me more about that, Zach.”
“I’ve seen them on set. Gaggles of boys, staring at him.”
“At whom?”
Zach frowned. How was that not obvious? “Brandy, of course.”
“How are they staring at him?”
“Like he’s gone senile! They need to be told multiple times what he needs before they do it. It’s ridiculous. Brandy is as clear as crystal. Sharp, I tell you. What’s wrong with these boys!”
Wentworth laughed, until another look from Elliot morphed it into a cough.
“Let’s explore this frustration you have.”
“Explore it? I didn’t come here to be tortured more than I am already.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I want to know the best way to get them to stop it.”
“You can’t stop bees from coming into your garden, Zach.”
“What does that mean?”
Wentworth blurted, “Bees like pretty . . . flowers.”
“What it means,” Elliot said, with a fond shake of the head at his husband, “is you can’t change other people’s behaviour. You can only change your own.”
“Ignore the bees, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
“Or—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Poison!”
Elliot’s chin sagged to his chest. “Bees have their place in the eco-system. We need to let them be.”
Of course. He wasn’t serious about the poison.
A bit of stinging sass, though . . .
Was that Lake walking past the door? He hopped to his one good foot—though the other was mostly fine now—said a quick thanks and goodbye to the three musketeers, and skipped out.
He caught up with Lake in his office, grabbing his satchel and throwing his keys to one gorgeous Silver Fox. See, that would be Brandy in a couple of years. Drop dead doable.
So long as his lover never ever saw his Tin Man onesie. Talk about scarred for life.
“Lake!”
Lake whipped his head around. “Zach.” He gestured to the Fox. “This is my husband, Knight.”
They helloed and smiled and both turned back to Lake.
Zach started first. “So I know you’re the best matchmaker ever.”
Lake’s eyes widened and shot to Knight, who was fisting back a cough. “Um. Yes. Best ever.”
Another cough. “Is he alright?”
Lake nodded and steered Zach out of the office into the hall. “Just a bug. Best not catch it.”
“Fair. Anyway, I figured out the best person for Brandy. But I’m wondering how involved in their meet-cute I need to be?”
“Emerett!” Knight called from the office. “Can you come . . . assist me for a sec?”
“Drink some water, love. I’m sure it’ll help.” Lake turned back to him. “You’ll need a good vantage point. In case you need to drop a line or two, help move things in the right direction.”
