“Viewings?”
“For a new place,” Noah said, and glared at his lazily grinning brother. “We’ll be fine on the bus.”
“No, I’m sure. I’d love to help.” That, at least, sounded certain. “When’s the first viewing?”
“Eleven.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“Nine?”
“For the key thing. And breakfast.”
Noah ate his last mouthful of pancake, sticky with maple syrup. That sweetness would last all day. Splurging for breakfast was perhaps not the most sensible plan, but after listening to the keys to his family home rattle onto the lawyer’s desk . . . walking out without them . . . it felt warranted. And Wade had rescued him last night.
“Zach missed out,” Noah said.
Wade dabbed his mouth with a napkin and balled it onto his emptied plate. “Sure did. Hope his ‘thing‘ was worth it.”
Noah laughed.
Wade looked at him, a spark in his eyes, and Noah puffed his shirt for air. Gosh it was warm in here.
“Show me what you’ve been drawing?”
Noah slid his napkin across the table.
Wade’s eyes widened. “Is that—”
Noah pointed out their window toward the wood pigeon weighing down the powerline, white singlet reflecting the sun. “Kereru.”
“You draw . . . it’s beautiful.” Wade procured a fresh napkin and slid it over to Noah with a grin. “Do me.”
Noah dropped the fineliner he’d been fidgeting with. It lived in his pocket, for spontaneous sketching. It’d been through the wash a few times but always seemed to survive that—unlike his field notebook, which Noah hadn’t yet managed to replace.
He laughed at himself as he plucked the pen up again. This was nothing he hadn’t done a million times before. Just . . . a face.
He popped off the cap.
With swift strokes, Noah transposed Wade’s grinning likeness onto a piece of absorbent tissue. The morning light filtering through the window made his eyes even softer, and Noah concentrated on getting the warmth of them just right. He needed better paper, pencils.
He touched up Wade’s hair. Deepened the dimple at his cheek.
Not perfect, but . . . it’d do.
He tasted syrup as he bit his lip and pushed the sketch across the table.
Wade lifted it, pinching the corner. Heavy shadows lashed his skin under his eyes as he bowed over Noah’s careful lines. He was very still. Quiet.
“Is this the way you see me?”
“Yes.”
Quite abruptly, Wade stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “We should, ah . . .” Wade thumbed toward his parked car and backed toward the exit.
Noah frowned and slowly collected his things. He reached for his napkin drawings, but they’d disappeared. Not under the table either. Maybe . . . He glanced out the window at Wade, who had tilted his head to the sky, eyes closed.
Fresh breezes raced over Noah as he left the café and stopped beside Wade. “Everything okay?”
Wade opened his eyes. “Yes. Just . . . it got very warm in there.”
Noah slid onto the sunwarmed sheepskin of the Mustang’s front seat and suddenly found his fingers were like noodles on the seatbelt latch. It just lifted up, right? Why couldn’t he—Wade leaned over and eased it across his lap, clicking it into place. “Like that.”
Their eyes met and Noah swallowed.
Wade drew back and turned the key in the ignition. “Thank you for breakfast. My shout next time.”
“You don’t owe—”
“You’re not arguing me out of paying a second time, Noah.”
The stern look Noah received wormed a giddy laugh out of him.
“So how did you do that, last night?”
A pregnant pause. “I saw them going over the list in the morning. For the third time. I knew the pieces were still in the bin and—” Wade merged onto the main street. “Well, I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
Noah pictured him collecting the shards and scripting his performance. He rubbed his chest over a flutter. “Thanks again.”
Wade peeked at him out the corner of his eye, and changed gears. “No problem.”
“This is a problem,” Wade whispered in his ear.
Noah gaped at the living room of an otherwise charming cottage. The owner, ahead of them, gathered armfuls of disembodied doll parts and dumped them into a crate.
Noah glanced to three stacked beanbags with doll legs poking from between the layers.
He winced. But . . . the rates were reasonable. “Would it come furnished?”
The gap-toothed landlord grinned. “Minus the doll parts. Those I’ll set up in the garage. I work in there.”
“Early?” Zach might not appreciate that.
“Nights. Better for inspiration.”
Wade hooked a finger around the belt loops of Noah’s cargo pants and tugged him toward the exit.
“Thank you for showing us around, Trevor. I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Wade didn’t release him until the car was in sight. Even then, he kept close enough that breezes blew their jacket sleeves together. “That makes three of the crappiest rentals I’ve ever seen in my life.”
