Sunday Snippets - At Your Service teaser

I'm starting a new feature on my blog called Sunday Snippets. Each Sunday I'll post something... a teaser for an upcoming book, a deleted scene from something already out, a new short story featuring a favorite couple after the end of their book, or maybe a scene from a story idea I'm considering but haven't quite decided on yet. This week, it's a teaser for my upcoming release At Your Service set in and around the Salon du Livre in Paris.

Leave a comment either about this teaser or about a short story you'd like to read later and you'll be entered in a drawing for your choice of my backlist eBooks.

Blurb:

When Anthony Mercer walked into Au cœur du terroir, he was looking for good food and a pleasant evening spent with a friend. He never expected to meet—and sleep with—Paul Delescluse, a waiter at the restaurant. After spending a magical week together in Paris, Anthony must return to his life in North Carolina, while Paul remains in France.

Despite the distance and the lack of promises between them—Paul wants sex, not a relationship—Paul and Anthony forge a solid friendship. Then Anthony’s job takes him back to Paris, this time to stay. Paul is thrilled to have him back, but Anthony has a harder choice: be another of Paul’s conquests or fight for the relationship he knows they could have, if only Paul would believe it.

Snippet:

 

Rue de Vaugirard was a busy, vibrant street, even at midnight, exactly what Anthony had come to expect from a commercial area of Paris. Almost as soon as they left the thoroughfare for the side streets, though, they left the bustle behind for the quiet of a residential neighborhood. Another block away to rue du Hameau and Paul guided Anthony toward the front door of an eighteenth-century building in pale stone, white or yellow—he couldn’t tell in the light of the streetlamps.

“Do you ever feel like you can’t get away from work, living so close to the restaurant?” Anthony asked as Paul dug in his pocket for his keys.

“It’s the family business,” Paul replied with a smile. “Unless I quit the restaurant and never went to family gatherings, I wouldn’t be able to get away from it, no matter where I lived.”

“There is that.”

Paul got the heavy wooden door unlocked and ushered Anthony inside with his hand low and hot at the small of Anthony’s back. Anthony stood in pitch darkness for a moment until Paul found the light switch that illuminated the entry hall. The inside of the building matched the outside, buffed stone floor shining in the bright light and wrought-iron railings with a wooden banister leading up a curved staircase.

“We’ll take the elevator unless you really want to walk,” Paul said, following Anthony’s gaze. “I live on the fourth floor.”

Which meant they’d have to walk up four flights of stairs, not three. He’d had too much wine at dinner for that. Not to mention how ready he was for the promise implied in the hand that had returned to his back. “We can take the elevator. I can admire the architecture another time.”

Paul grinned at him. “Does that mean there will be another time?”

Anthony swallowed hard. “I’m in Paris for five more days. I have to be at the Salon du livre during the day, but Patricia made it pretty clear my evenings were my own when she left without me tonight. I don’t see why this has to be a one-night thing, as long as we both understand that I’m leaving on Wednesday.”

Paul pulled open the elevator door and herded Anthony inside. The tiny cabin, probably a century old, barely held both of them, but Paul didn’t seem concerned as he punched the button for the fourth floor and crowded Anthony against the wall. Anthony leaned into him, letting their bodies touch in as many places as possible. Paul tilted his head and mouthed at Anthony’s jaw, his lips catching on the stubble Anthony hadn’t bothered to shave away before dinner.

“I’ll shave tomorrow before I come to the restaurant,” Anthony gasped.

“Don’t bother. I don’t mind a little beard burn.” Paul worked down Anthony’s neck to the collar of his sweater. He nudged the cloth aside and nipped at the skin beneath. “Do you?”

“It can’t show tomorrow.” His voice sounded wrecked to his own ears, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Paul was taking him apart, and he didn’t want to be put back together anytime soon. “Beyond that, no.”

The elevator dinged and the interior door slid open. Paul pulled Anthony out of the elevator with him and spun him around so his back hit the wooden door behind him. The doorknob dug into his back, but he ignored it in favor of running his hands over Paul’s shoulders and arms. Beneath the simple shirt, he could feel solid muscle, tribute to all the heavy trays Paul carried around the restaurant. He yearned to see as well as feel, but he’d wait until they were inside for that. Paul’s wasn’t the only door on that floor, and he didn’t want someone coming out and seeing them half naked.

Paul didn’t seem to share Anthony’s concern about his neighbors, given the way he ran his hands under Anthony’s sweater.

“Fuck,” Anthony grunted.

Paul laughed and pulled away. “Should I be pleased I have you so worked up that you speak in English instead of French?” he teased.

Had he spoken English? He hadn’t even realized. “Ouais,” Anthony replied, consciously switching back to French. He didn’t have to think to speak French these days, but exclamations were always the last thing to come naturally in French, and Paul had muddled his brain thoroughly already.

“What did you say?” Paul asked.

Anthony considered his reply for only a moment. He could translate it as a simple expletive—putain or merde or something like that since he couldn’t imagine Paul not knowing the word fuck—or he could get what he really wanted. “Baise-moi.”

Want to read more? At Your Service releases in English and French on March 14 from Dreamspinner Press and many other online retailers.

A Heart Full of Love (A Partnership in Blood ficlet)

“Are you ready for this?”

“I have no idea,” Orlando admitted, coming to sit next to Alain on the bed.  “We’ve gone through all the training, we’ve got the house ready, everything is set.  Nicole arrives tomorrow.”

“And you’re scared out of your mind,” Alain surmised.

“And you’re not?” Orlando asked.  “I know you better than that.”

“How do you think I knew what you were feeling?” Alain asked.  “Claire said it was normal to have doubts.  She only worries about people who don’t question whether they’re doing the right thing.”

“I know, I was there,” Orlando said.  The energetic social worker had helped smooth over any number of bumps in their road: his being a vampire, their being gay, to name the biggest.  Their status as war heroes had probably helped, but he knew he owed Claire a debt of thanks for making their dream of being foster parents to war orphans a reality.  “I know you’ll be a wonderful father to them.  I’ve listened to Thierry tell stories about the way you were with your son.  You’ll be the same loving man with our little refugees.  I have nothing like that to draw on, and my experiences with my own father were so long ago and from such a different time that I’m not sure they even come into play.”

“Children need one thing more than anything else,” Alain said, his voice firm with conviction.  “They need to be loved unconditionally.  That doesn’t mean you take their crap and let them walk all over you, but it means that no matter what they do, when you tuck them into bed at night, you tell them you love them and you mean it.  You may not have any practical experience, but you have a heart full of love.  They’ll see that and respond to it.”

“I have a heart full of you,” Orlando countered.  “Before I met you—”

“Let’s not think about that,” Alain said, pressing Orlando back onto the bed. “You need to feed so it’s safe for you to be outside tomorrow when Claire brings Nicole, and then I need to sleep so I’m rested enough to keep up with a six-year-old all day.”

“And you think me feeding is going to speed up you going to sleep?” Orlando teased, running his hand down Alain’s back.  “That isn’t usually how that works.”

“Maybe not, but I sleep best after you’ve fed and we’ve made love,” Alain replied.  He couldn’t remember the last time one hadn’t led to the other.  Certainly not since the war ended.  Even on the rare occasions they helped with one magical ritual or another, the Aveu de Sang gave Alain protection from overfeeding so that Orlando could continue the connection when they arrived somewhere private.

Orlando smiled.  “Then let’s see about helping you sleep.”  He rolled Alain beneath him and licked the brand on Alain’s neck that proclaimed them bound.  The surge of love and amusement that passed through their bond only widened Orlando’s smile.  Somehow, through some twist of fate or act of God, he had ended up here, in this bed, with this man.  He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky, but he never forgot to be grateful for the gift of Alain’s presence in his life.

“Bite me already,” Alain said, but there was no heat in his words. 

Orlando chuckled and lifted his head.  “I thought you wanted to make love.  If I bite you now, there are so many other things I can’t do.”

To prove his point, he reared back and lowered his head to Alain’s cock, licking the tip.  “Unless you’re suggesting I bite you here.”

“Maybe not,” Alain said, his voice hoarse with the desire Orlando could feel resonating through his mind.

Orlando wouldn’t have done it even if Alain had said yes.  He knew how much that hurt, and he wouldn’t inflict that on anyone even at their request.  Instead he drew back his fangs and slid lips down the hardening shaft, taking it deep into his mouth.  Alain tossed his head, but his hips stayed still, leaving Orlando in control of their interactions.  Orlando wanted more, though, so he slipped one hand between Alain’s legs, circling Alain’s entrance in the one caress that never failed to shatter his lover’s control.

Alain’s hips lifted, driving his cock into Orlando’s throat.  Orlando swallowed and hummed his approval, projecting his need through their bond as firmly as he could.  Alain was always so careful not to do anything that might trigger bad memories for Orlando, and without that, Orlando doubted they would have made it through as well as they did, but tonight Orlando wanted this.  He wanted Alain to let go and fuck his mouth and throat.  Fortunately Alain seemed to get the message, beginning to move in time with Orlando’s suction, his hips rising and falling in a rhythm designed to steal both their wits.  Within minutes, a burst of hot cream filled Orlando’s mouth, one of the few tastes besides Alain’s blood he could savor fully. 

The magic of the Aveu de Sang would let them prolong their encounter as much as they wanted, provided they didn’t find release at the same time, but tomorrow would be a busy day, and Alain did not have a vampire’s ability to go for days without rest, so Orlando kissed his way up Alain’s torso, lingering over each nipple, until he once again reached the brand on Alain’s neck.  His fangs pierced flesh, tasting hot blood and the myriad emotions roiling through Alain’s heart: desire laced with satiation, surprise, and, the bedrock of their lives, love.

Orlando rocked against Alain, rubbing his hard shaft against Alain’s hardening one.  He would never have had the patience to wait if he hadn’t known his fangs in Alain’s neck would speed Alain to a second climax nearly as quickly as the first.  As it was, though, he didn’t worry about holding back, rutting against the cradle of Alain’s body, driving them both higher and higher.  He could taste the rising desire in Alain’s blood once more, matching his own until it reached a fever pitch and the repercussions reverberated between them, a never-ending feedback loop that left them both panting and exhausted on the bed.

Orlando licked the wounds on Alain’s neck to close them and nestled close to his wizard’s side. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, angel.”

“Sleep,” Orlando murmured, pressing one more kiss to the mark of their bond.  “I’ll guard your dreams.”

Morning came early, but Alain didn’t protest when Orlando bounced out of bed the moment the sun peaked above the horizon.  His vampire, once imprisoned by the sun’s rays, now reveled in his freedom, spending as much time outside as the demands of their lives would allow.  By the time Alain had showered and came blearily downstairs, Orlando had coffee ready and breakfast on the table.  The bread was still warm from the bakery down the road in Pouilly.

“And you worry about being a good father,” Alain said.  “Nicole won’t drink coffee, but if she wakes up to this kind of attention every morning, she’ll never doubt you care about her and want her here.”

“Even if it’s as much for you as it is for her?” Orlando asked.

“She’s six, Orlando. Her world revolves around her still.  She’ll see this and not even notice the coffee that isn’t for her, or if she does notice, it will be an afterthought.  You’ll be Papa Orlando, and she’ll think you hung the moon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Alain ate while Orlando fussed around the kitchen, making sure everything was in its place.  When Alain was finished, Orlando insisted on checking the room they had prepared for Nicole one more time to make sure everything was perfect.

The sun had risen enough to cast gentle rays through the dormer windows they had added to the attic of the house, converting the space into a series of loft rooms that would, they hoped, allow them to welcome several children at a time into their home and their lives.  Claire said it would depend on how things went with Nicole, but she had been cautiously optimistic that their plan would work.

Everything was exactly as they had left it the day before, the flowered comforter adding a touch of femininity to the yellow walls and white trim.  A few books sat on the desk and Orlando had put a stuffed bear on the pillow, a welcome gift to Nicole.

“It’s perfect,” Alain said.  “She’ll love it here, and we’ll fill it with all the things she needs once she gets here and we know her tastes a little better.”

“It’s almost time.”

“We can go sit in the courtyard until they get here,” Alain said, knowing Orlando would pace wherever they waited. At least outside, they would hear the car approaching.  Their quiet little street in their quiet little town had very little traffic, especially once everyone else had gone to work.

A high wall extended from the corner of the house along the road to the three-sided shed where they kept their little Peugeot.  Alain had never owned a car before, living in Paris with its public transportation system, but out here in the country, walking wasn’t always an option and his magic could not take Orlando with him.  The pebbled courtyard between the house and the shed was surrounded with climbing roses, a touch Orlando had insisted on adding.  Behind the house in the garden, they had other flowers as well, but here in front, Orlando had insisted on the roses.  Alain had seen no reason to argue.  He sat down on the stone bench and did his best to hide a smile as Orlando began to pace.  Oh, he tried to cover it up by checking the roses, pulling a few weeds, and squashing a few aphids, but Alain knew his lover better than that.  Orlando was pacing.

“It’s nine o’clock.  Where are they?”

“Calm down, Orlando.  There may have been bad traffic getting out of Paris.  Nicole might not have been ready on time.  It is a long drive, and Claire did get her up early.”

Before Orlando’s worry could escalate into a full-fledged panic, they heard the sound of a car engine at the bottom of the hill.  Orlando rushed to the gate, swinging it wide in welcome.  Alain shook his head indulgently and adjusted the wards that supplemented the physical barrier so Claire’s car could come through bearing the new addition to their family.

Claire climbed out of the car the moment she put it in park, but the back door didn’t open. Orlando approached the back window before Alain could stop him.

“Hi, Nicole,” he said through the open space.  “How are you today?”

“Is this where you live?”

“It is,” Orlando said.  “Would you like to look around?”

The little girl nodded so Orlando opened the door and helped her out.  “Do you have horses?” she asked, holding a stuffed pony close to her chest.

“No horses,” Orlando said, “but we have something almost as fun.  Do you want to see?”

She nodded again.  Orlando led her toward the barn at the back of the property where a mama cat had given birth a few days before.

“Here’s her bag,” Claire said.  “It isn’t much, but it’s all she has.  I can tell she’s going to be happy here.  She’s taken with Orlando already.”

“He so wants this to work.”

“It will,” Claire said.  “She’s already forgotten she’s scared.  Go join them.  I’ll help myself to coffee and we’ll do paperwork when she’s ready to come inside.”

Alain smiled his thanks and went to join his family.

“Papa Alain?”

“Yes, Nicole?”

Alain paused at the doorway to Nicole’s bedroom. He had thought her asleep and so had intended to leave her to rest, but it seemed she was not as far gone as he’d believed.

“Tell me a story.”

“What kind of story?” Alain asked, returning to the foot of her bed. He didn’t know why she wasn’t exhausted. She and Orlando had explored every inch of the village, running up and down the hills and streets, laughing like banshees. It warmed Alain’s heart just to think of it.

“A magical story.”

Alain smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. “Like a fairy-tale story or a real magic story?”

“A real magic story,” Nicole said.

Alain grinned and summoned a candle with the flick of his wrist. A tap of his wand, mostly for effect, lit the wick. Nicole’s eyes widened.

“A long time ago, there was a wizard,” Alain began, casting around for the perfect words. “He was very sad and very lonely because his family had died.”

“Like my parents,” Nicole said.

“Yes, very much like that,” Alain said. “He was sure he was never going to have anyone special in his life again because he’d let bad things happen to the two people who needed him most. Then one night he was walking and he met the most beautiful young man he had ever seen.”

“Did they kiss?” Nicole asked with that mixture of curiosity and horror that only a six-year-old could muster.

“Not right away,” Alain said. “They talked first because it turns out they each had something the other wanted.”

“What?” Nicole asked.

“They each had a heart full of love to give and a deep fear of giving it,” Alain explained. “They each needed someone to love and trust, and because they were both so afraid, they knew how important it was to take good care of each other.”

“Did they die in the war too?” Nicole asked.

“No,” Alain said with a smile and another stroke of his hand over her hair. “They fought in the war, protecting each other as best they could, and when the war was over, they decided to leave Paris and move to the country.”

“Like you and Papa Orlando.”

“Exactly like us,” Alain agreed. “Can you sleep now?”

“Is that how you met Papa Orlando?”

“Yes,” Alain said. “I can do all kinds of magic with a wave of my wand and a whispered spell, but no magic will ever be as great as knowing I love Papa Orlando and that he loves me in return. Sleep well, minette. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Nicole let him leave this time. He shut the door to her room and took two steps before he ran right into Orlando. “I don’t remember it being quite that simple,” Orlando said, his smile evident in his voice, though Alain could not see it in the darkness of the hallway.

“Don’t you?” Alain said. “You took one sip of my blood, and I’ve been yours ever since. Everything else pales in comparison to that one irrefutable fact.”

“No,” Orlando said, running his fingers over the brand he didn’t need light to see. “I took one sip of your blood and I’ve been yours ever since.”

“A heart full of love and a deep fear of giving it,” Alain repeated. “I’m not scared anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

Dream Vacation

I promised the Dreamspinner Press social media staff that I would write a Dream Vacation free short story as part of a promotion in March, but I need your help. Which characters would you most like to see take a dream vacation to Paris?

I'll draw a winner from all comments received by 8 am CST on February 25. The winner will receive his/her choice of any eBook from my backlist.

Ready, set, go!

The stunning conclusion of Partnership in Blood

Yes, that's right. The Partnership in Blood series, ten years and a million words of my life, is now complete. And on Friday, October 31, the remastered versions of the first seven books will become available along with the final volume of the series.

 It started as a challenge on a writers' group I was part of ten years ago. Each month, the moderators would propose a theme and anyone who wanted to participate could write a story around that theme and enter it into the group's contest. We'd critique each other's stories and then at the end of the month, we'd have a vote and the winning story would get a banner for the author's Live Journal or wherever they wanted to post it. The theme for that year's October was supernatural stories. I'm not a paranormal reader. I love fantasy of the Lord of the Rings variety, but I've never gone in for the werewolves or vampires or any of that. So I looked at the challenge and at everything else I was working on and decided I'd pass that month. I'd cheer everyone else on and vote at the end of the month. And then I fell asleep.

I dreamed that night with a vividness and clarity that I rarely have, and I woke up with three scenes etched in my memory: two men meeting in a cemetery, one of the two men stumbling out of a building at dawn, and one of the two men kneeling at a gravestone. Beginning, climax, and end (or so I thought). I knew it wouldn't be short, but I also knew I had to write it, so I asked the moderators if I could enter whatever portion of the story was complete at the end of October for the voting. They said yes as long as I promised to finish it eventually. I don't think they had ten years in mind when they said eventually, but I can honestly say I kept my promise. Partnership in Blood is now complete.

(And yes, for the record, I won that month's competition. No, I don't still have the banner.) So without further ado, I give you the final installment in my saga of love and magic in Paris and beyond: Partnership Reborn!


    

 All his life, wizard Raphael Tarayaud has dreamed of a vampire—first as a friend, then as a lover. His search for his missing soul mate brings him to the attention of Sebastien Noyer, one of his childhood heroes. While Sebastien isn't his soul mate, he could be the perfect partner for Raphael's best friend Kylian Raffier.

As strange coincidences mount up, Raphael offers his research expertise to try and help Kylian and Sebastien understand what is happening to them, though the more he learns, the less he likes it. But it won’t keep him from fighting with everything he has to secure Kylian’s future.

When he finally meets Jean Bellaiche, former chef de la Cour and grieving widower, the meeting is disastrous, but Raphael can't let it go. He doesn’t stand a chance with Jean—who could compete with the ghost of Raymond Payet?—but nothing can stop him from dreaming.

Also, coming this Friday, a free bonus short story, Partnership Reforged.

 

For two years, Thierry has wanted the one thing Sebastien's past denies him: an Aveu de Sang. With the help of friends new and old, he has finally assembled a ritual that will give him a close approximation of the ultimate bond between vampire and mortal... if it succeeds.

An excerpt from The Path

The Path came out yesterday at Dreamspinner, so I thought I'd share an excerpt with everyone.

The all important moment of coming out in an area where being openly gay is still a big risk to take.



BENICIO KEPT turning the day’s conversations over in his head after they left the chicheria. Alberto called Miguel to report in on the arrangements they’d made, and Benicio stood there and stared at him, trying to weigh Alberto’s various comments. The two men who were coming clearly meant a lot to him, and Benicio admired him all the more for it, but the tenor of some of the comments went deeper than defending his friends, or so it seemed to Benicio. It would be so easy to read too much into them, though, and Benicio didn’t want to rock the boat again after they’d finally gotten back on an even footing.
On the other hand, if he was right, Alberto could be a resource to him, helping him find places where he could be himself instead of having to hide his preferences. Benicio didn’t delude himself by thinking that Alberto could ever be attracted to him, no matter how much he wanted that, but having a gay friend would be better than nothing.

Alberto’s hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts.

“Are you all right?” Alberto asked. “I called your name three times and you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” Benicio said.

“Those must have been some deep thoughts,” Alberto teased.

“They were, actually,” Benicio said. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but I’m not sure how to start.”

“Just tell me,” Alberto replied. “Unless you’re telling me you’ve changed your mind about leading the hike with me when Shaun and Don are here.”

“No, of course not,” Benicio said. “I’d never do that.”

“Relax, I was joking. Apparently it was a bad one.”

An absolutely terrible one, since Alberto could well be the one refusing to hike with Benicio if this conversation went the wrong way. He could brush it off, forget he’d ever entertained the thought, and everything could stay the way it was. He could do it easily. Alberto wouldn’t push if Benicio said he didn’t want to talk about it. If he did that, though, he’d miss the opportunity, because he doubted it would come up again. It was now or never, and he needed to do this. He needed to stop feeling like he was torn between living a lie and being outcast. Even if he was wrong about Alberto being gay, he hoped Alberto wouldn’t mind that he was, given how he had defended his friends.

“Could we go back to your apartment? I don’t want to have this conversation on the street or even at Señora Vargas’s café.”

Alberto sobered. “This is something serious, isn’t it?”

Benicio nodded, unable to put words to the turmoil of his emotions at the moment.

“Let’s go, then,” Alberto said.

By the time they reached Alberto’s apartment, Benicio’s stomach had tied itself into knots so tight he thought he might throw up before he said the first word, but Alberto waited him out, taking a seat on the couch and letting Benicio gather his thoughts.

“Are you gay?” Benicio finally blurted out.

The look that crossed Alberto’s face at the question was nearly enough to make Benicio run, but after a moment, Alberto nodded.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” Benicio said, leaning forward to convey his sincerity. “No, not at all. I don’t care. Or rather, I care, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

“What other reasons are there?” Alberto asked in a voice so bitter Benicio wanted to hug him right then, but he couldn’t yet. He still had more to say.

“Because I am too,” Benicio said. He felt lighter the minute the words were out of his mouth. If this was what telling people felt like, he’d tell the whole world, except he knew the reaction wouldn’t be the same from everyone else as the slow smile spreading across Alberto’s face.

“That certainly changes things,” Alberto said after a moment. “Does Miguel know?”

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Benicio replied. “I was afraid to say anything to anyone else. You said it yourself. Highlanders aren’t known for being accepting of it.”

“I won’t say anything, but you can tell Miguel if you want. He knows about me, and he’s come a long way from his initial reaction to finding out.”

“How did he find out?” Benicio asked curiously.

“Shaun and Don,” Alberto said with a laugh. “You’ll see when you meet them. They’re a force of nature when they put their mind to something. I don’t know what gave me away—I never asked—but they pegged me the first day, and when I said I didn’t have a girlfriend, they asked me if I had a boyfriend. I was so flustered that I don’t even know what I said, but they took it as ‘not now, but not because I’m not looking’ and spent the rest of the trip giving me advice on finding the right man.”

“You don’t seem to have taken their advice,” Benicio said. “Or is there someone you never talk about?”

“No, there isn’t anyone,” Alberto said. “But not for lack of taking their advice. In fact it’s probably because of their advice. They made me really think about what I wanted and told me never to settle for anything less. Until I find that, I’m happier living alone.”

Benicio wanted to ask what he was looking for, but that was more personal than he was comfortable with. Asking if Alberto was gay had been hard enough. “That sounds like good advice.”

“Wait until you meet them,” Alberto said. “They’re living a dream. They’re from California, so their marriage is actually legal, not just their promises to each other. Their families and friends all know. They don’t have to hide or be afraid of people knowing about them.”

“That would never happen here,” Benicio said sadly.

“Maybe in Lima, but not in Cusco anytime soon,” Alberto said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t dream of meeting the right man someday, though. We’d just have to find a way to live our lives discreetly.”

Benicio considered that—all the ways he would have to spin stories to play down the depth of their attachment, the reasons for their cohabitation, the touches they could never share in public. It would be a restrictive life, but it might be worth it if he had someone special to come home to at the end of the day, if he had a lover to fall asleep next to at night. It wasn’t ideal, but just the thought of it being possible made his heart lighter. He could follow the same advice Alberto’s friends had given him and look for the right person. “You’ll have to show me around places where I might meet the right man. I don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Not in Pisac, that’s for sure,” Alberto said. “But if that’s what you want, I can take you to a club or something after we get back from the next hike. I don’t think we’ll really have time before we leave on this one.”

“I wouldn’t get in your way,” Benicio promised when he heard the reticence in Alberto’s voice. “You don’t have to admit to knowing me, even, if you’re worried about being seen with someone like me. Just tell me where to go. I can even go on a different night than you do.”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” Alberto said. “Just… clubs aren’t really the best place to start a meaningful relationship. Most of the guys who hang out there are looking for someone to pass the time with, not someone to settle down with.”

“That’s not what you’re looking for,” Benicio said. “At least, that’s not what you said.”

“It’s not what I’m looking for,” Alberto agreed, “but it’s all I’ve ever managed to find, no matter what I’m looking for. It’s okay for blowing off a little steam, but not for settling down.”

The image of Alberto entwined with a faceless lover floated before Benicio’s eyes and wrenched at his heart. He’d thought he could go to a club with Alberto and pretend not to notice if Alberto met someone, but now he wasn’t so sure. “So where do you meet someone for settling down?”

“I wish I knew,” Alberto replied. “I haven’t found it yet.”

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