Page 40 of The Leaving Kind

“She’ll be going home soon,” he assured them as he trotted toward the garage.

Cam had the larger of Victor’s two wheelbarrows in the driveway: a four-wheeled cart that would comfortably hold two of the trees.

“Will you be all right pulling that back up to the patio?” Victor asked as he helped load the second tree. “There’s a slight slope, and the wheels sometimes sink into the gravel.”

“I’ll yell if I get stuck.”

With a nod, Victor went to pick up the third tree. He squatted by the pot, wrapped his arms around it, and begged his thigh muscles to perform the impressive task of lifting him upright without failing. Thankfully, his decision to work out rather than descend back into Wineland after Saturday’s call with Jazmine proved sound. His thighs did their job, and he hefted the tree with reasonable (rather than unreasonable) effort.

Cam also managed to drag the cart up the path, muscles straining nicely as he tugged at the handle, and together they arrived on the patio huffing and puffing.

Victor dropped his tree near the first hole. “This one here.”

“Any preference on these two?” Cam asked.

“Nope.” He’d ordered two varieties of dogwood and had split them into mixed groups for the patio and lawn. “Whatever you think works.”

Grunting, Cam continued pulling the cart off the other side of the patio and onto the lawn. Victor busied himself planting his tree, first patting his pockets for the knife he knew he didn’t have before trotting back to the garage for a spare. After liberating the tree from the pot, he slid it into the hole and admired the amount of room he’d given the roots to grow. Cam did have a good point there.

He spent ten minutes shoveling the dirt back in and grabbed the hose to water it down. Then he got the second tree situated and watered.

His trees taken care of, Victor circled the house to the south lawn. Cam had his first tree settled and was working on the second.

“Did you water this one yet?” Victor asked.

Cam shook his head. By the time Victor had given the first a drink, the second was ready for his attention. While he watered, Cam gathered up the tools and laid them in the cart. Victor caught up with him in the garage, where Cam was hanging away the cleaned shovels. He’d noted last time that Cam cleaned tools before putting them away and had decided he liked that about him. Disorder and disarray could be comforting, but tools should always be well-maintained.

“Can I get you another bottle of water or perhaps a beer?” Victor asked when Cam turned to him.

They were close enough for him to smell the honest sweat of Cam’s skin and feel the heat of his exertion—his presence—and despite not having a particular preference for masculine partners, Cam’s robustness very much appealed. He was just so there. So capable. So vital and engaged. But also unknowable, which meant Victor needed to know. To try to, anyway.

For his part, Cam appeared more relaxed. Or perhaps Victor simply couldn’t see the scowl lines. It was a little shadowy in the garage. His eyes, as he met Victor’s gaze, held amusement.

But when Victor sought a reciprocal interest, Cam let him down.

“This isn’t going to work out how you think it is.”

“What isn’t going to work?” Victor tried, putting on his most nonchalant expression.

“Whatever it is you want from me.”

Heat flushed Victor’s cheeks. Hopefully, the dim light of the garage would also hide his discomfort. “What I want is to thank you for your—” He’d been about to say service but had meant work. When had this become awkward? “—work.”

“I assume you’re still planning to pay me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll consider myself thanked.”

“Why are you being so prickly?”

Cam stepped back, shaking his head. When he looked up, he wore a rueful smile. “I’m not, usually. I dunno, maybe I am. Ask my brother and he’d tell you I’m his number one annoyance.” His smile faltered. “Or I used to be.”

Victor’s thoughts flashed to the dates behind Cam’s left shoulder. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“What? No, he’s not dead. He’s thinking of getting married, which I can’t quite wrap my head around. Not that I didn’t ever imagine him partnering up. Actually, no, I didn’t imagine it. I mean, why would I? Anyway, he moved in with his boyfriend last year. So, ah ...” Cam spread his hands. “What were we talking about?”

Victor couldn’t quite remember because his mind had latched on to the word boyfriend. Cam had not seemed fazed by Victor’s obvious attention to his body. His casual flirtation. But he did seem bothered by the fact his brother lived with a man.