Dean gave her a polite smile, his eyes twinkling. “He certainly is.”
Aw fuck. Robin stomach clenched.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you around. Take care.” And with that Ginny walked off.
Before Robin could utter a word, Ben Taylor approached, and Robin groaned internally. Oh, for God’s sake. What is this—Run into Your Senior Year Classmates Day?
“Hey, Robin. I was hoping I’d see you. Can I buddy up with you one weekend? I want to try the Connector trail and I know you’ve done it before.”
Robin was well and truly fucked. “Sure, Ben,” he said with a sigh.
Ben gave him a grateful nod. “Aw, thanks. I’ll text you, and we can set it up.” He gave Dean a quick nod, then did a double take. “Hey, Mr. Quentin. Good to see you, sir.” Then he waved at a group of skiers on the other side of the cafeteria, and with that he was gone too.
Robin gave a nervous laugh. “Seems to be my day for running into friends.”
Dean was staring at him.
Robin was so busted.
“Before you think how unlucky you are that your friends happened to walk past at this precise moment,” Dean began, “I should add that I knew you could ski before they turned up.”
“How?” Robin had done his level best to appear an amateur. Where did I go wrong?
Dean folded his arms. “I watched you. Do you know how difficult it is to fall over on purpose–and be convincing? Not to mention the way you use your legs when you ski. That comes with a lot of practice.”
Robin had one last try. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a good instructor?” he said hopefully.
“Bullshit,” Dean responded promptly. “You’ve been caught. Now tell me why you lied in the first place.”
Robin sighed. “I should have known better than to listen to my stupid brother,” he muttered.
Dean frowned. “What’s Ryan got to do with this?”
“I guess I’d better come clean. It was really good seeing you at the boatyard, and… I just want to spend more time with you, is all. The ski instruction was Ryan’s idea.”
Dean snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?” He gave Robin a reproachful glance. “You didn’t have to make up some story about wanting to learn to ski.”
“Yeah, well, I see that now.” He must have looked like a total loser. When Dean glanced at his watch, Robin’s heart sank. I really messed up.
“I’m going home for lunch.” Dean paused. “Why don’t you join me?”
Robin gaped. “You mean that?”
Another shrug. “Why not? Your bike is at my place anyway. Apart from that, you’re good company. But don’t get excited. It’s only mac and cheese.” Robin beamed at him, and Dean laughed. “Why do I get the feeling I just said the right thing?”
Robin grinned. “Mac and cheese is my favorite!”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean nodded toward Robin’s mug. “Finish your hot chocolate, and we’ll get out of here.”
Okay, maybe my brother has his uses. Score two for Ryan.
“You know we’re going to talk more about this, right?” Dean speared him with an intense gaze, and something in Robin’s belly quivered.
His elation suddenly seemed a little premature.
Dean finished loading the dishwasher, and went to find Robin. He was standing in the hallway, peering at the framed photos that covered the wall in one long line. Dean stood still, not wanting to disturb him. Except it was more than that.
Dean was enjoying the view.
When Robin wasn’t bundled up in his skiing gear, he was a gorgeous mix of tousled hair, narrow waist, slim hips and slender legs. It all added up to a beautiful young man. Dean watched as Robin peered at the photos, a finger held to his lips, lost in contemplation.
Those lips… Dean still wanted to know how they would feel against his, how it would feel to hold that slender body in his arms…
“Is that you?”
Dean broke off from his not-so-innocent thoughts. He knew exactly which photo Robin was referring to. He laughed. “Oh God. Yes, that’s me. It was an amateur dance production in Chicago.”
Robin turned to face him, smirking. “Nice… costume.”
Dean walked over to where he stood and peered at the photo. All the men had worn nothing but tights, and they’d danced barefoot. “What little there is of it. I only did it as a favor for a friend. He needed another dancer, and he knew me from college. I couldn’t say no.” He pointed to the figure on his right. “That’s Adrian. He’s now a professional dancer. Right now he’s rehearsing for a production in NYC. Actually, it’s his production.”
Robin let out a soft exhale. “He must be good.” A smile flickered. “Were you any good?”
Dean shrugged. “Adrian was happy enough. And it wasn’t as if I had a lead role. I was there to make up the numbers.” It had been a great experience, however, and Adrian had remained a good friend.
“I think it’s cool.” Robin bit his lip, and not for the first time the gesture sent a trickle of arousal through Dean. “When I was little I asked my mom if I could take ballet classes.”
“Seriously?”
Robin chuckled. “Thankfully, she said no.” When Dean gave him a puzzled glance, Robin sighed. “I forget what I’d seen on TV—it could have been a dance scene in that movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button—but I loved watching it. The guys dancing looked so cool. But there was no way I was cut out to be a dancer.”
“Why not?” Dean imagined Robin as a lithe mover.
“Ryan says I have two left feet.” Robin laughed. “Although, we were eight at the time, and dancing at a wedding.”
Dean couldn’t help himself. “Why am I picturing you in a cute little suit with a neat waistcoat?”
Robin gaped in mock horror. “Okay, when did you see that photo?”
Dean laughed. “My mom probably has similar photos of me someplace.” He inclined his head toward the framed photo. “Adrian is going to send me a couple of tickets for the opening night.” When the thought occurred to him, Dean rejected it, until a little voice in his head gave him a dig. Why not? “Why don’t you come with me?”
Robyn’s eyes were huge. “Really?”
“Why not? You’d have to ask your parents, I guess.” Robin might be eighteen, but he still lived under their roof.
“They’d be okay about it, if I was going with you.”
The more he thought about it, the more Dean really liked the idea. “I’ll let you know when I get the tickets.” His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he took it out to peer at the screen. “Excuse me. I have to take this call.” Dean walked into the kitchen and clicked on answer. “Hey, Kris.”
“Dean? I really need to talk.” The note of panic in Kris’s voice was obvious.
“Are you okay?”
“No, no I’m not. Are you home?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He disconnected.
Dean shook his head before turning toward Robin. “I’m about to have a visitor. A friend. It sounds like he has problems.” He was a little concerned. Kris wasn’t given to moments of drama like this.