Page 23 of A Cold Hard Truth

“Not the point,” Sebastian muttered, torn between not knowing whether he wanted Remington to think of him that way, or think of him at all.

Chapter Seven

Remington Dares to Dream

A knock against the edge of the door to his office pulled Remington’s attention away from his computer. He was behind on work because he’d thrown all of his energy and focus on applying for every single relevant grant he could find online. He supposed it didn’t much matter if his schedule slipped anyway; he was likely to be out of a job in a month if he didn’t find money and find it fast.

“Grant,” he greeted, pushing away from his desk and blinking, letting his eyes relax.

“Don’t you have work to be doing on that copy ofTamerlane?”

Remington shrugged. “Yes, but I’ve been trying to find funding.”

“Someone made a donation.” Grant folded his arms across his chest, a broad smile on his face.

People made donations a lot, a few hundred dollars, sometimes a thousand, all in the hope of getting their name etched on a plaque in the museum’s rotunda. Even at the highest tier, a donation wouldn’t be enough to make up for the rejected grant proposal.

“How much?” he asked, because he knew Grant expected him to.

“A quarter of a million dollars.”

Remington choked, actually choked. He slapped his palm against his chest a few times until he could breathe again, then he blinked up at Grant in shock. “What now?”

Grant smiled and nodded. “Specifically earmarked for your department.”

Remington’s heart skipped.“Excuse me?”

Grant shrugged. “Consider yourself funded through 2025.”

As soon as Grant walked out, Remington grabbed his phone and ran out of the museum. He jogged the handful of blocks to the coffee shop and didn’t stop until he was face to face with Jace.

“Did Callahan do it?” he panted, smoothing his curls out of his face and catching his breath. “Did you ask him to?”

“Did… Callahan do what?” Jace asked, turning around and pouring a cold brew into a plastic cup. He added some milk and shoved the whole thing across the counter at Remington.

“Fund the museum,” he said.

“What?” Jace laughed at him, then quieted, his face reddened. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

Jace exhaled a dramatic breath that puffed out his cheeks. “If he did it, I don’t know anything about it. Either way, that’s cause for celebration, right?”

“That’s a bit of an overstatement.” Remington took a long swallow of his recently acquired coffee and leaned his weight against the pastry case, his adrenaline quickly waning. His hands shook, and he held the cup a little too tightly. “I should get back to work.”

“Are we still on for movies tonight?” Jace asked, a genuine smile on his face.

“Of course,” Remington answered. “That’s my kind of celebration.”

“I’ll bring home pizza,” Jace offered.

“Yes. Thanks.” He gave Jace a smile.

“And then on Saturday, we’ll have dinner with Callahan?” Jace’s boyfriend’s name tipped up into a question and Jace eyed him hopefully. “Let him buy some expensive alcohol to really celebrate.”

“This doesn’t mean anything to him.”

“But it means something to you,” Jace said, “so it means something to me, and because of that, it will to him. You know I don’t make a lot of money, I never have. But Callahan likes to let me use his, and this seems like a proper occasion for it.”