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Maybe a ride to work wasn’t such a bad idea. “Thanks. That would be great.” There was no need to be rude, and Harry was being so kind. Tristan hurried to his room, closed the door, and dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before. He hated the way they felt. There was nothing worse than being clean and putting on dirty clothes. He’d have to change fast before he went in to work. Once he was ready, Tristan stepped out and waited. He wasn’t sure if it was okay to go downstairs. Harry joined him in the hall a few minutes later and disarmed the alarm system.

Tristan followed Harry downstairs, yawning as he went. He needed to remember that staying out until after two the night before he had to work was so not a good idea. He yawned widely. He did his best to cover it up, but failed miserably.

“Let me put some coffee on—I think we both need it,” Harry said.

Tristan yawned again and nodded. He needed coffee bad. “Maybe you could set up an IV drip of the stuff.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes drifting closed. He jumped when he felt something brush his legs and stiffened when he realized it was the cat. “What is it doing?”

“She’s just rubbing against you. It means she wants to be friends,” Harry said. “Come on.” He leaned down and lifted Butterscotch into his arms. “She must like you, or she wouldn’t have come out at all.”

“Maybe she’s waiting for her chance to eat me. I’ve heard stories about people dying and being eaten by their cats,” Tristan said, staring wide-eyed at the ball of furry death in Harry’s arms.

“Those are stories told around campfires and stuff that are meant to scare you as a kid.”

Harry put the cat down, and she sat at Tristan’s feet, staring at him with huge eyes that seemed to drill into him. Didn’t the damn thing blink, for God’s sake? Tristan shifted away. He didn’t like cats, and he hated that Harry had seen he was afraid of them. On an intellectual level he knew being afraid of cats was sort of stupid, but even now, with the cat just watching him, his heart raced, and he was fighting the urge to run. But he sat still, clutching the chair.

“Butterscotch, go in and eat,” Harry said to the cat, who completely ignored him. Harry opened one of the cupboards, pulled out a small can, and opened the lid. He showed the cat the container, and she stood up, now watching Harry’s every move. “Cat treats,” Harry said and tossed a few onto the floor a ways away. Butterscotch leaped after them, and Tristan relaxed slightly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” Tristan whispered.

“Do you know why you’re afraid of cats?” Harry asked as he poured coffee into a travel mug.

Tristan shivered. “No. I’ve never liked them.” He stood when Harry handed him the mug. He wrapped his hands around it not because he was cold, but because the heat was comforting. “A doctor once told me that most people see a cat as soft, cuddly, and warm. I see them as furry balls of death who want to eat me.” Tristan smiled to make light of it. “You see a cat, but I see danger.” It was the best way he could describe it. “I know it seems dumb, but that’s the way I feel. There isn’t anything logical about it. I wish there were, because then I could fix it. But I can’t. I’ve petted cats. My mom made me when I was a kid. I nearly wet myself, but I did it. My mom thought that was some huge accomplishment and that I’d get over it once I realized how soft they were. Then it licked me and tried to scrape my skin off, and that was it.”

Harry had filled another travel mug and motioned toward the front door. “Do dogs bother you?”

“No. I like dogs. Just cats.”

“Is it all cats? Like lions and tigers too?”

Tristan chuckled. “I’ve never been close enough to one to find out.”

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, that was kind of a dumb question. Go on out and wait by the car. I need to make sure she has food and water, and then I’ll be out.”

Tristan was happy to oblige. He went outside into the summer heat, soaking up the morning sun. Harry came out a minute later, locked the house, and strode toward the car. Tristan couldn’t help watching him. He liked the way Harry moved. He was medium height and sort of stocky but graceful. Maybe he’d been a dancer at one time.

“Ready to go?” Harry pressed a button on his keychain and the car chirped, announcing it was unlocked, and Tristan got in. He placed his mug in one of the cup holders, buckled his seat belt, and pulled the door closed. Harry did the same and then started the engine.

They drove back the way they’d come last night, and once they crossed the river into Harrisburg, Tristan gave Harry directions to his place. He and Kevin were renting the upper floor of a duplex. They had been lucky to find a place like this at a price they could afford.

Harry pulled to a stop out front, and they got out. “Do you want me to go first?” he offered.

“No. I’m okay.” Tristan walked up onto the porch and to the door. He put in the key and unlocked it, which he thought was a good sign. Everything looked normal so far. Inside, he looked up the green-painted staircase and began to climb. At the top, he opened the door and peered into the living room. Nothing looked out of place. The mismatched furniture he and Kevin had put together didn’t appear disturbed. He wandered through the apartment, relaxing a little as he went. Things were fine. No one had been here.

“Check the bedroom and then get changed for work, and I’ll drop you off.” Harry sipped from his mug and handed Tristan his. He took it and went to his bedroom. He needed to hurry, or he was going to be late.

The bedroom looked fine. He set the mug on top of the dresser and stripped off his clothes, then threw them into the clothes basket in the corner. Then he pulled open his drawer and pulled on fresh underwear before moving to his closet for black work slacks and a white shirt.

Dressing didn’t take long, and he stepped out and into the living room, carrying his shoes and socks. He sat in the ugly green chair—that’s what both he and Kevin called it. The thing was hideous but dang comfortable, so they threw a blanket over it and used it anyway. “I’m just about ready.” He put on his shoes and socks and then patted his pockets. He hurried back into the bedroom and grabbed his wallet, keys, phone, and the mug of coffee. He felt really scattered and wondered how he was going to make it through the day without messing up every order he took.

“You’re going to be fine,” Harry said from the doorway, and Tristan squeaked slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you ready to go?”

Tristan turned and saw Harry watching him. After a second Harry turned and stepped away from the doorway. Tristan checked that he had everything and left the room. He led Harry out and locked the doors.

T
HE
DRIVE
to work only took a few minutes. Harry pulled up in front of the Green Door Café.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“It’s no problem. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you,” Harry offered and gave Tristan his number. “I’m not sure where your car is, but you’re going to need a ride,” Harry added when Tristan hesitated.

“Thanks.” Tristan closed the door and watched Harry drive off. He added Harry’s number to his contacts and hurried inside, arriving minutes before starting time. He got right to work, making sure the stations were stocked. Then he checked with the kitchen to make sure he knew the specials. The doors opened at eleven, and a huge party came in and filled one section of the dining room. Tristan and the other server, Mona, were hopping from that moment on. They usually had a few minutes to chat now and then, but not today. They smiled at each other as they passed and exchanged pleasantries while they waited for orders, but otherwise they were both moving constantly—taking orders, getting drinks, and fulfilling requests. Tristan’s feet felt worn down to nubs by the time the lunch service was drawing to a close.

“I just sat some people in your station,” Mona said as she passed into the kitchen. “They said they were friends of yours.”

“Thanks,” Tristan said as he carried a tray from the kitchen. He delivered it to the patrons and made sure they were all set before approaching the new table. “I’m Tristan, and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon. Can I start you off with drinks?” He looked up to concentrate on his customers and found himself staring into Eddie’s eyes. His blood went cold, and he took a single, small step back. It took all of his control not to ask what the hell Eddie was doing there. The only thing that stopped him was Mrs. Martinelli, his boss, standing just across the room. He decided to play it professional and distant… waiting.

“You know what I like and want,” Eddie said just above a whisper, his lips curling slightly. Tristan knew that seductive look, and he was tempted to smack Eddie with his order pad. It had worked in the past, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to work now.

“I’m sorry, sir, but what would you like to drink?” Tristan persisted. He shifted his gaze from Eddie to the other men at the table. He recognized them as Jimmy and Lewis, friends of Eddie’s.

“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Martinelli asked as she approached the table.

“Of course not,” Eddie said with a bright smile. “We were just deciding.”

Tristan’s boss stepped away, and Tristan waited. Eventually Eddie ordered, and Tristan reviewed the specials and then went to get their drinks.

Mrs. Martinelli met him at the bar. “Is something wrong?” She glanced over at Eddie’s table.

“No. He’s my ex.” He didn’t want to cause trouble. He’d wait on them and spend as little time at the table as possible. “It’s fine.”

“Mona can take it if you’d rather.”

Tristan smiled. “It’s fine.” Mrs. Martinelli was good to him, and he didn’t want to be a problem. Eddie would be gone soon enough. He finished getting the drinks and carried them back to the table. He placed them on the table and then asked if they were ready to order.

“I know what I want,” Eddie said, staring at him.

“I’m not on the menu, and I never will be for you again,” Tristan growled softly, leaning close to Eddie. The word scumbag was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He liked his job and didn’t want to lose it. “So what would you like?” He straightened up and waited. Eddie looked over the menu, and Tristan took the opportunity to look over Eddie. Not that he was interested, but the designer suit and expensive haircut were new. Eddie looked like he was going for the full-on gangster impersonation, complete with attitude. He must have been watching reruns of
The Sopranos
or something.

Eddie eventually ordered his lunch, and the others followed suit. Tristan left the table and placed the orders in to the kitchen. After that he stayed there, hiding out as best he could. He wondered if he should ask Mona to help him out. Tristan bit his lower lip and glanced around the partition to the table. Eddie looked right back at him, the fucker. All he wanted was to be left alone, but the feral look in Eddie’s eyes told him that wasn’t going to happen.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He wasn’t supposed to have it on him while he was working, but he’d shoved it into his pocket and forgotten about it. He didn’t dare answer it in the kitchen, so he went into the bathroom and closed the door. He pulled out his phone, checked the missed call log, then dialed Zach’s number and waited. The call went to voice mail. He ended it and called Jeremy, getting the same thing. Tristan thought about calling Kevin, but there wasn’t any use. Kevin was at work too. He wasn’t sure what else to do….

“Harry,” he began once his next call connected.

“Tristan? What’s going on?”

“I’m at work and Eddie’s here. He came in for lunch. Well, he says he came in for lunch, but I think he came in to intimidate me, and it’s working. He’s here with some of his friends, and—”

“Just a minute,” Harry said, and then Tristan heard him speaking to someone else.

“Bull and I will be there in a few minutes,” Harry said. “We’re leaving the club now. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone. I….”

“You aren’t. When we get there, just make sure we get seated next to them. It seems Bull and I are ready for lunch.” Harry disconnected. Tristan put his phone back in his pocket, washed his hands, and left the bathroom. He went back to the food station. His order wasn’t ready, so he made a pass through the dining room, checking on his patrons. He reluctantly stopped by Eddie’s table, but the three of them were deep in conversation, so he left them alone and went back to check on his food.

It was ready, so he loaded it on a tray and carried it out to the table, where he placed Eddie’s in front of him, followed by Jimmy’s, and Lewis’s. He hated all three of them and felt their eyes on him the entire time. As soon as he was done, he turned and hurried away. The bell on the front door tinkled lightly. Tristan set the tray and stand in their place and walked quickly to the front. He was glad to see Bull and Harry standing just inside the door. Tristan went into his standard greeting in case anyone was listening and led the two of them back, seating them at the table next to Eddie’s, even though there were plenty of tables available now that the lunch rush was over. He took their drink orders and scurried away.

Curiosity about what the two of them had in mind kept him wondering, and he returned quickly. He brought them the wine they’d ordered and placed the glasses on the table.

“Go along,” Harry whispered to him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said more loudly and extremely sweetly before lightly tugging Tristan down into a kiss. For a few seconds he forgot where he was. Harry tasted like heaven. When Harry broke the kiss, Tristan blinked a few times and then reminded himself that it was just pretend.

“What’s this?” Eddie hissed from the next table.

“None of your business,” he retorted and turned back to Tristan.

The intensity of Harry’s gaze went straight through his eyes, down his spine, and to his now wobbly knees.

Eddie leaned back in his chair. “If it involves him—” As soon as Eddie pointed at him, Tristan’s blood ran as cold as the look in Eddie’s eyes. He saw no emotion there. Tristan was just property, nothing more. “Then it’s my business. See, you may not know it, but he’s mine.”