Page 77 of A Quick Buck

“What’s in the bag?” Noah poked at the brown paper.

“Gifts.”

“For me?” Noah teased.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Alistair kissed his forehead. “But for later.”

The only thing a lover had ever given Noah was a hangover and deep regret, and he was intrigued at once. “Like, what kinda later? Like, in ten minutes later?”

“If you continue to behave yourself, after dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? What about the concert?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll still see your beloved DJ, I swear, but we’re not missing dinner.”

“Fine, yes. Dinner. I promise.”

Alistair smirked. “I’ll remember you said that.”

“I’m not gonna forget!”

“I’ll remember you said that too.”

Chapter 11

After six hours, two pitchers of mimosas, seven shots of very well-guarded rum, and a tray of Frida’s freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies, Noah most certainly did forget.

It was approaching seven o’clock, but Noah was having so much fun he didn’t even notice. He never wore a watch and without his phone, it was easy to lose track of the time.

Once they’d finished up in the kitchen, Junior was tasked with whisking away the mysterious bag of gifts, and Alistair led Noah outside to the pool with Crybaby right behind them. Erasmus was still watching over the bar, and Mace had left to oversee the new influx of guests. As the hours ticked by, the crowd continued to grow and didn’t show any signs of stopping.

There had to be at least a hundred people here, maybe more. Infectious techno music was pounding through the speakers in anticipation of DJ Quigs’ arrival, and Noah could not wait. He’d spent the last few hours schmoozing the endless flow of guests with Alistair by his side, and he was surprised to find how much he liked playing the part of a host. He got to say hi to everyone, bask in their gratitude for the awesome party, and enjoy the way they looked at him and Alistair.

The difference in their age made the way Alistair held him close nearly obscene, and Noah found he liked the coy and knowing glances they received.

Everybody knows you’re fucking him…

Noah couldn’t be bothered to care. He hoped they all knew. He loved the attention, and he loved hanging on Alistair’s arm even more. It was like being a trophy, and it was nice. He’d never done anything like this with a partner before. Alistair seemed proud to have Noah beside him, and wow, that was an unexpected ego boost.

Seeing how enamored the guests were with Alistair increased the swell of pride in his chest tenfold. By the time they made their second pass through the crowd, they were already calling him Mr. Star and high-fiving him. One guy even wanted to do shots with him, though Alistair politely declined.

Alistair was charming and confident, and he remembered each and every one of their names. Noah was amazed at how taken all the guests were with him, and he wondered if any of them truly suspected what Alistair was.

Businessman, snappy dresser, and probably a fuckin’ murderer.

The thought was sobering, and Noah longed for another drink to pickle his worries. He didn’t want to think about that right now. Trying to save Uncle Patrick and interrogate Frida for new suspects didn’t seem to matter when he had Alistair’s hand at the small of his back and his lips brushing against Noah’s ear to tell him how handsome he looked.

The very way Alistair looked at him, those bright blue eyes full of open adoration, made Noah feel desired and perfect, and…

Shit. He really needed that drink.

Noah heard the crowd cheering excitedly and realized he had a much more important reason to get his buzz back on track.

DJ Quigs was finally here.

Noah could see his trademark neon blue LED jacket moving through the sea of people toward the DJ booth, and he couldn’t wait for the show to get started. If Landon had been here, he would have hugged him.

Huh.