He came back. The mental argument didn’t sell. He came back a handful of times. They ran into each other at a block party and again during their high school reunion . And, damn, if the man didn’t look good in a uniform. Liam never thought he would go for all the brass buttons, spit and polish, but Brenden made it sexy, so he kept his distance.
Puffing halfway through the cigar didn’t do a damn thing for his nerves. He couldn’t figure out why Brenden made the request. Unless he thinks he might be gay and I’m a good experiment.
Grimacing at the thought, he decided against falling for that line. He’d walked down that road a few times in and around college—guys who wanted to experiment, thought they might be gay—and then freaked the fuck out.
Yeah, no thanks.
Alerted by a scuff of shoe behind him, Liam turned around. His heart fisted and punched against his ribcage. He blew out a hard breath of smoke and shook his head. Brenden looked even better at thirty-two than he had the last time he’d seen him four years before.
“I was really hoping for the dress blues.” Liam switched the cigar to his left hand and extended his right.
Always tall, Brenden had filled out nicely. The dark green polo shirt he wore stretched over his wide shoulders. His arms were corded muscle, and his hands thick and well developed—hell, even his fingers looked like they pumped iron.
Brenden gripped Liam’s hand in a firm, quick handshake that ended with Brenden pulling him forward. The hug startled the hell out of him, and he patted his shoulder awkwardly.
“Thank you for coming.” The Marine stepped back and gave him a smile. A faint scar sliced through the flesh of his lip and up to the crease of his smile, one corner of his mouth didn’t quite curve up as much as the other. His black hair, cut in a high and tight fashion, framed his fine bone structure from chiseled cheekbones to his broad forehead. Of course, the double knot in his nose ruined the Michelangelo’s David effect, but Liam preferred the raw man to the marble.
“You’re welcome. Wasn’t expecting the invitation.”
Understatement of the year. Backing off another step, Liam tapped some ash into the nearby tray. Thankfully, the cigar gave him something to do.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure I would ever issue it.” The blunt, forward honesty gave him another reason to respect his oldest friend. Brenden Fitzpatrick never said anything he didn’t mean. He used words sparingly and with much greater effect.
An awkward silence ballooned around them. Liam compressed his lips, biting his tongue against the acidic question burning the end of it.
“Spit it out before you choke on it.” Brenden advised with an easy grin. His hard, gorgeous face looked a lot more comfortable with this situation than Liam felt, shocking since he normally took everything in stride.
But this was Brenden.
He jammed the cigar between his lips, grasping at the mundane activity. “Why?” He exhaled the smoke. “Why now? Why me?”
“Fair questions.” Brenden glanced over his shoulder as more newcomers arrived, handing off their keys and cars to the valets and making their way inside. They were alone on their little patch of sidewalk. “I missed you.”
It was a good answer.
“You ever hear of picking up a phone?” Liam lifted his brows and snuffed out the cigar in the sandy circular tray.
“I wanted to see you.”
Everything about him radiated control. He didn’t slide his hands into his pockets, lean, or slouch. His back remained ramrod straight, legs firmly planted—and Liam shouldn’t have thought about his legs because, even encased in denim, their shape and musculature drew the eye. He almost couldn’t wait to see if his ass matched the rest of the package, but he forced his attention back to Brenden’s face.
“Are you giving me shit because you can? Or is the invitation serious?” He braced to hear a joke or even a lame excuse.
“Serious as a missile strike. I’ve waited a long time to ask you out. I’m done waiting. But I figure you might need some time, you know, to adjust to the idea. So…drink?” Brenden gestured to the club. “I bet they have wine coolers.”
The droll humor at the end of his invitation and the crooked grin warming his already kind eyes tipped the scales. Liam had prepared for every eventuality except Brenden being serious.
“Yeah, I think I might need something a little stronger than a wine cooler.”
Laughing, Brenden gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Then the drinks are on me.”
Liam was still trying to wrap his mind around the whole concept when he led him into the club.
Chapter Two
Brenden leaned back in the chair. They chose a table near a wall and, as if by long habit, he and Liam chose opposite sides, both turning their chairs back against the wall. It gave them a better view and they could still talk. A waitress greeted them and when Brenden ordered a beer, Liam held up two fingers.