“Jacob.”
He turned at the sound of his name, but it wasn’t Evan calling to him. It was Matthew Engleton, the manager and heir to the Copper Point institution known as Engleton’s Fine Clothing. He was also one of Jacob’s closest friends. Smiling, Jacob waved to him, relaxing a little. “Hey.”
Cradling his glass to his chest, Matt lifted an eyebrow at Jacob. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
Jacob couldn’t help noticing how Matt’s lips flattened slightly at the sight of his boring suit.
“I wanted to skip it, believe me, but I got a mysterious call from Larson a little while ago asking me to come. The call had terrible reception, so I don’t really understand what’s going on. I was hoping to get more answers when I arrived. Evan Clare was supposed to call me, but he never did. Have you seen him?”
“Hmm. I think I did a few minutes ago, but he was on the move. Come on, let’s go hunt him down.”
Jacob was grateful for Matt’s assistance, which Matt probably knew. Though both their jobs required interacting with people, Matt was significantly better at it. Jacob was perfectly at home with anyone who wanted help locating a book or doing essentially anything in his store, and though it was exhausting, he did enjoy his work on the hospital board. He didn’t even mind being pointed and argumentative in a meeting. However, any situation where he was expected to mingle was pure torture. If he wasn’t careful, everyone he met asked him what was wrong. He couldn’t very well answer that all he could think about was going home.
God, but he wanted to go home.
They couldn’t find the dean, but they did run into several people from the chamber of commerce, including, of course, Les Clark.
Clark was the eighty-year-old, semiretired president of Copper Point Bank and Trust, an institution that had dodged corporate takeover only by Clark’s iron will and determination that nothing ever would change. He was the current president of the Copper Point Chamber of Commerce, and he’d held that title off and on regularly over the years. He was either the rock of city business or the boulder holding back progressive innovation, depending on who you talked to.
Clark didn’t like Jacob, Gus, or Matt. He thought they had too many wild ideas, and of course the fact that they were all three gay and out was also a scandal. He never missed a chance to needle any of them.
That included right now.
“Moore.” Clark grimaced at him. “I’m surprised you made it. I thought you’d still be busy with the chaos at your store.”
Jacob gave Clark his most patient smile. “Just a bit of high spirits. Everyone is excited to meet our new celebrity, it seems.”
Clark huffed at the very idea of celebrity. “I expect there will be something nasty written about it in the paper. You’ll be the downfall of this town one day, boy, with all your ways.”
Jacob had no idea what those ways could possibly be, since all his friends gave him grief for being so analog, but he suspected this was his orientation again and so simply continued to smile.
Matt also smiled as he took Jacob’s elbow. “So sorry, Mr. Clark. We’re on a mission to find Evan Clare. Enjoy the party.”
But as soon as they were out of earshot, Matt muttered, “Old coot.”
Jacob had to agree.
They found Clare talking to several professors from the college, all men, so they were a sea of monotone suits and tuxedos. When the dean saw Jacob, however, he broke away and rushed over. “Oh good, you came.” He nodded to Matt. “Good to see you too. Having a good time?”
“Of course.” Matt inclined his head to Jacob and stepped away. “I’ll catch you later.”
Jacob didn’t want him to go, but he supposed his friend had his own mingling to do. Events like this were critical for a clothing store with the entire internet competing with it.
Suppressing a sigh, Jacob turned back to Evan, but the dean was already dragging him away.
“Larson said he gave you the details over the phone?”
Jacob had to walk double-time to keep up. “Not really. The connection was bad.”
“Oh. Well, honestly, I don’t understand much of it myself. All I know is we got a call from the agent asking if we could provide an escort for the evening, someone highly respectable and no-nonsense. We all thought of you right away.”
There wasn’t any insult in anything Evan said, and yet Jacob felt an annoying prick along the top of his head. “I see.” Except, wait a minute, he didn’t see at all. “What do you mean, escort? What agent?”
Evan cast a questioning look over his shoulder. “He really didn’t explain anything?”
Jacob flushed. “It was an exceptionally bad connection.”
“Well, thank you for coming anyway. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re so dependable.”
This time the prick of annoyance manifested in Jacob’s cheeks as he sucked them against his teeth. “Would it be too much to ask what it is you want me to do?”
“Oh, sure. One of our visiting professors needs to be kept out of trouble, is what it boils down to. Larson was supposed to ask you to be his date for the evening. He says we’d owe you a big favor.”
At the word trouble, a low buzzing began in Jacob’s ears. It intensified as Evan led him around another group of suits and past a clutch of women in an eerily coordinated set of pastel gowns.
No, the part of him that still craved the bubble bath whispered. No.
But of course, as the crowd parted, there was Rasul Youssef in a stunning, vibrant floral jacquard tuxedo, standing in the center of a clutch of people, dark curls a riot around his bearded face and cast in a pleasant glow from the light positioned as an accidental spotlight above him.
MR. ROGERS looked a hell of a lot better out of his cardigan.
He was still pretty straitlaced in a somber gray suit and powder blue tie with soft geometrics, but the just-pressed look about him was a nice departure from the cardigan. He didn’t look happy, however, and Rasul was surprised at how intense his urge was to fix that. Of course, he wasn’t sure how much help he could be once his minder showed up. He still chafed at Elizabeth’s intervention and the tense phone call they’d exchanged over the teenage girls. Being assigned a date was his penance, though he’d done nothing wrong.
Not this time, anyway. But if Elizabeth was going to retroactively punish him for everything he’d ever done, things were going to get grim fast.
Gently extracting himself from the woman who’d attached herself to his left arm, Rasul came forward to meet Jacob with a grin. “Hello again. You’re a pleasant surprise.”
It made him pause when, instead of melting into a demure expression, Jacob shuttered further and put up a thin I don’t want to be here smile.
Dean Clare raised an eyebrow and glanced between Rasul and Jacob. “You two already know each other?”
“You bet.” Rasul winked at Jacob, thrilled that this time he was rewarded with a blush, though he’d had enough champagne to make him want even more of a reaction. “He rescued me earlier today in more ways than one.”
“Well.” Clare looked confused but also relieved. “That certainly makes this easier. Mr. Youssef, this is Jacob Moore, your escort for the evening. Jacob, this is Rasul Youssef, who apparently I have no need to make an introduction for.”