In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

“Yes, I—let me go do that,” he said, glancing at Jackie, who smiled at him before he turned and left the kitchen.

“This looks good,” Dallas said, taking a small piece of the naan stacked on a tray and dipping it into the hummus. “Oh, it is,” he said, turning to his mother. “You’re getting good at making this.”

She blinked at him.

“Mom?”

“Yes. Well, thank you.”

“Here, try this,” he said, passing me a napkin and piece of naan and moving aside so I had a clear line to the hummus.

“Oh, that’s great,” I told her. “Can we help carry some things out?”

Nothing.

“Jackie?”

“Yes,” she said, recovering, staring at her son and then looking back at me. “If you grab the charcuterie plate, Croy, and, Dallas, the hummus and naan, then I think that’s all of it. I have plates and napkins over there already.”

Following her as she carried out crab artichoke dip in a bread bowl, and grilled brie, we placed everything on the long glass-topped coffee table, on top of different festive-looking trivets.

Seeing how casually everyone else was dressed, I stopped worrying about my tweed blazer. I’d paired it with a matching waistcoat over a white dress shirt, with jeans and my brogues. Dallas, however, had refused to wear anything more than some brown chinos, a cream-colored T-shirt, and threw on a pale olive shawl-collar cardigan. His only concession to fashion was that he wore my brown double monk strap wingtips because, coincidentally, we wore the same shoe size. He looked good, sexy, with his tousled mane and golden-red stubble.

“Everyone, this is Croy. He’s here from Chicago, visiting Dallas.”

I lifted my hand, smiled, and then took a seat next to Cate, who was there with her friend Toby.

“That was brilliant, the whole Shepherds thing,” he told me. “Cate’s partners were wild about it.”

“You see,” I told her as Dallas started piling a plate with appetizers, “I’m a fixer.”

“You are,” she said, beaming at me.

When he sat down beside me, I chuckled at the mound of food on the plate. “Are you, perhaps, a bit hungry?”

He said something, but since he was chewing at the same time, there was no way to figure out what that was. I made sure to wipe his mouth with a napkin.

I met Thad’s son Callum, and his wife, Gina, and several of their friends, and then the two men who had been at the bar came over and joined the group, trailing after Thad, who delivered Dallas’s and my drinks.

“Thank you so much,” I said, as one of the men passed Thad the drink he was carrying for him.

“I’m sorry I missed the introductions,” he said, leaning in to offer me his hand. “I’m Thad’s son Lawrence, but everyone calls me Law.”

Standing, we shook and I introduced myself. “Nice to meet you, Law. I’m Croy Esca.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” he said, something in his tone telling me that it wasn’t at all his pleasure. He wasn’t sneering at me, but it was a close thing. “And you came with Dallas? Is that right?”

“I did, yes.”

“That’s nice. We so seldom see Dallas at these dinners. He’s always working.”

“Well, that’s the life of a special agent with the FBI; there’s always something.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go of my hand. “And what is it that you do, Croy?”

“I’m in private protection,” I told him as I pulled my hand from his and retook my seat beside Dallas.

“So a bodyguard, then?”

I grunted. “There’s a bit more to it than that, but yes.”

“When I imagine a bodyguard, I see big men with no necks.”

“That’s a bouncer at a club,” I volleyed back. “The best bodyguard doesn’t stand out, not someone you’d notice.”

“Then, sweetie, however does that work in your case?” Jackie asked me. “Your hair is so striking.”

“That’s very kind,” I said, smiling at her.

“No, I agree,” Cate chimed in. “Your complexion is so fair that, along with the platinum hair, you have got to know you turn heads.”

“Not so much that I notice,” I demurred.

“Yeah, but––”

“I’m sorry, Cate,” Law interrupted, drawing my attention back to him. “I didn’t get to introduce you to my boyfriend, Evan.”

I stood up again and held out my hand to Evan, who smiled tightly, glanced at Dallas, and then back to me.

“Pleasure,” Evan said flatly.

“And you,” I replied automatically before I sat down again.

The conversation around us picked up as I sipped my drink. “Mr. Whitney, that’s excellent, thank you so much.”

“Please, call me Thad,” he insisted, and unlike his son, he seemed entirely genuine.

“Thank you. You have a lovely home, sir.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“That drink is really good, Thad,” Dallas told him. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome,” he said, and I heard how gruff he sounded, staring at Dallas.

“You should eat something,” Dallas told me, and I turned and smiled at him.

“I’ve never been a big appetizer guy, but I’ll try the brie.”