Page 43 of The Leaving Kind

Vic lifted his gaze from Cam’s mouth. “What’s that?”

“You want conversation and commitment. That’s not who I am.”

I think you could be. “Maybe I’m only looking to—” Do not say “blow out the cobwebs.” Dear lord.

Cam held out a hand, palm up.

Vic stared at it, confused, then remembered the soft weight in his hand. His wallet. He flipped it open and sorted through the bills there. “Would you be interested in another job?”

“What’s that?”

Vic counted out five twenties, then added an extra. He handed them over and watched as Cam tucked them into his jeans pocket.

“I would like to draw you. Sketches, for a painting, perhaps.” A feeble tremor touched Victor’s torso as complicated emotions knotted and unknotted behind his breastbone. At one time, he’d loved capturing portraits, especially of people he felt connected to. Perhaps it was time to try again. Time to move past the block, past the moment that had changed the course of his career and his life.

Try for that new direction Jazmine thought he should explore.

Waiting for Cam’s answer, Victor held his breath.

Cam’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Draw me?”

Victor exhaled softly. “Use you as a model. Have you pose while I draw.”

“Me?”

Victor couldn’t help his grin. “If you’re comfortable with it. I’m looking for inspiration for a new series.”

Cam’s expression could only be called dubious. Then he shrugged. “Sure.”

“Really?”

“As long as I can bring my dog.”

“Yes! I mean, well, yes. So, ah, I’ll call you?”

One last smile, this one sly. “I’ll call you.”

Cam’s thoughts had wandered toward the sense of abandonment Honey might be experiencing at being left home, alone, when a blur of motion to his left pulled him back to the present. He was at his brother’s place for game night. And, stupidly, missing the dog he was trying not to bond with.

Nick plucked a card out of Grayson’s hand and shuffled it to the bottom of the deck. “You can’t choose your specialty before the smoke quest.”

Had anyone but Nick pointed this out (and snatched said card), they would have done so with more exasperation or weariness. But not Cam’s brother. When discussing rules—or enforcing them—Nick always spoke with cool collection.

Gray—Oliver’s oldest friend—shared one of his easy grins with the group gathered around the coffee table before drawing in a breath for the explanation he gave every time he and Nick butted heads over this same point. “But my orc already knows what it wants to be when it grows up.”

“Smoke. Quest.”

“Ambitions,” Gray shot back.

Gray’s boyfriend, Aaron, patted the air in a peacekeeping gesture and looked to Oliver for help. Oliver passed responsibility to Cam with a relaxed shrug of the shoulders.

With a long-suffering sigh, Cam touched his brother’s arm. “How about if we all choose our specialties before the quest? To try a different spin.”

“But the rules state—” Nick inhaled, chewed on his bottom lip, and then nodded.

Surprise rippled around the table.

“Seriously?” Gray was already reaching for the deck.