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Chapter Two

Ethan

“6 887 Balsam Street is on your right.” Sexy Australian voice again.

I eased the van onto the driveway and came up to the closed iron-barred gate. “Uh, who did you say your client is?”

“I didn’t.” Kingston pursed his lips.

“So do I enter a code, buzz, or—” Before I was able to finish the question, the gate swung open. “Wow, that’s cool.”

“Thornton was expecting us. We were just…” He checked his watch. “Well, we’re early.”

“Oops.” I didn’t drive that fast, did I?

I pulled up to the house, put the van in park, and cut the engine. “Electric sure is sweet. So good for the environment. Especially because we have hydro power, which is a clean form of electricity. I mean, I don’t necessarily understand how all that powerful water up north delivers electricity for my stove, but I’m super… Holy hell.”

“Try to stay cool, okay? No…gawking.” Kingston opened the door, then banged his foot against it when he tried to get out.

I leapt into action. I had my seatbelt off and scurried about to his side of the van in time to hand him the crutches and to help him out.

By then, the blond god had come around to greet us. “Good God, Kingston, what happened? You should’ve told me. This absolutely could’ve waited a week or two.” He eyed the wrapped ankle. “Or six.”

“I would’ve tried to tell him that, but he wasn’t likely to listen to me, and since my job is to take care of him as best I can, without arguing too much, I figured I’d just bring him here and, well, you know. And it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Ethan, and you know Kingston, of course. Best locksmith in town.” I puffed out my chest. Then considered my words—something I rarely did after they’d left my mouth. “Okay, I don’t know he’s the best, but he did work for Peter Erickson, and I’m guessing Peter wouldn’t hire anyone but the best. Although he hired me. So does that mean I’m the best or was just the most convenient? Because I have a lot of free time—”

“I wonder why…” Kingston muttered the words.

Likely he’d thought he spoke under his breath, but I had super-sensitive hearing.

The blond god smiled. “I’m Thornton. It’s nice to meet you, Ethan.”

He didn’t offer to shake my hand, but I wasn’t offended by that.

He pivoted to Kingston. “Are you certain you’re up for this?”

My new boss nodded.

“Something to keep me busy.” He eyed me. “Otherwise, I might lose my mind.”

I was not going to take offense at the inference that I’d cause him to lose his mind.

Or was I?

Was that what he’d meant?

Sometimes you don’t have the sense God gave you. Just hush now . My father’s words echoed in my head. He’d never been my biggest supporter. That’s why I was so lucky I had Gran. “Do you need equipment?”

“Yes.” Kingston’s dark gaze settled on me. “The gray tool kit.” He turned to Thornton. “Wall safe?”

Thornton nodded. “We didn’t even know the damn thing was there. Ed knocked over a drink, and while he was cleaning, he noticed the liquid was traveling in an unexpected direction. We followed it and found a false panel in the wall. Damn curious, and having already decided the olive-colored seventies wallpaper had to go, we hired a construction crew to take apart the wall. Go figure. The specs of the house did not show an entire antechamber. In retrospect, the space was unaccounted for, but, you know…”

“Your house is so big it doesn’t matter?” I chuckled. “Because, no offense, you’ve got a big house. I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with that much space. Well, I suppose I would get my gran to move in. She’d know what to do. I mean, she always knows what to do. Grans are smart that way. Do you have a gran? Well, that’s a stupid question, because everyone has grandparents, but I guess I’m asking if you’ve got a special grandparent in your life…”

His sad expression had me trailing off.

He offered a smile after blinking several times. “My grandfather. He loved photography, and he instilled that love in me. Instead of becoming a doctor or lawyer, I became a documentary filmmaker.”

“Oh.” I perked up. Well perked up more. “Have you done something I’ve heard of? I mean, I don’t watch many documentaries. Nature ones, for certain.”

“You know, I’m mostly known for my documentary about a rock band, but I did one on the mating habits of elk.”

I blinked. “And bull moose? Oh my God, that’s a favorite of mine. I watch it all the time. Have you ever considered doing one about squirrels? Specifically squirrels in an urban environment? I don’t think there are enough shows about how nature and humans interact—”

“Everything okay out here?” A stunning Black man with dreads stepped out from the house. Despite the chilly autumn afternoon, he had bare feet, ripped jeans that hugged his hips in just that way, and a tight T-shirt. He was shorter than the blond god, and… “Holy shit, you’re Ed Markham.”

He blinked. Then seemed to recover himself. “Uh, yes, yes, I am. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Well, of course we haven’t met. Because you’re Ed Freaking Markham and I’m just little old Ethan who can’t get his shit together as my father likes to say.”

“But he’s helping me today, so he’s going to have to get his shit together.” Kingston glared. “My ankle is killing me.”

“Oh crap.” I scurried around to the back of the van, but not before I heard him say, “No, I’m fine. I just don’t know where his off-switch is. Apologies.”

I should’ve felt hurt, but I kind of didn’t, because hell, even I knew I could be a little much. I retrieved the gray tool kit, slammed and then locked the door, and headed back.

Ed had returned to the house, and Kingston was being escorted by—

“You’re Thornton Graves.” The pieces were coming into place. That documentary about that rock band. Grindstone.

He offered me a smile. “The name my mother calls me. Although I think Markham-Graves has a better ring to it.”

“Married, eh?” Kingston grinned. “That’s great.”

Thornton sighed. “Yeah, it is. We both have professional credits, though, so hyphenating names—or taking each other’s—”

“I’m more than willing to ditch Markham.” Ed poked his head out of the house. “I’m not attached to mine like you are to yours.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Your family’s amazing. Mine fucking sucked. Doesn’t seem like much of a debate to me.” He puffed out his chest. “I think Ed Graves is perfect.”

Thornton cleared his throat. “I don’t think we need to discuss—”

“Yes, we do. Our friends should help us settle this.”

“We have a big house because when Grindstone is recording their next album, everyone wants to be in the same place. We’re kitting out the recording studio in the back.” Thornton was clearly not interested in having the last-name discussion and picked up on a comment I made earlier.

“Yes, this place used to belong to music producer—”

Thornton cleared his throat.

Ed laughed. “Right. Sorry. You don’t need to hear about all this.” He gestured to Kingston. “It’s not too far. I’ll get a chair for you. This secret room is pretty cool.”

Did people say cool anymore? I wasn’t certain. Ed didn’t seem that much older than me. Well, neither did Thornton, for that matter. Certainly, we were all younger than the rather stodgy Kingston.

Stodgy can be sexy.

Yeah, it really could.

I stepped out of my sneakers and bent to help Kingston out of his shoes.

He glared.

Thornton laughed. “No, you can totally wear your shoes in the house. It’s going to be messy once we start the construction. We thought we were happy with things the way they were, but between the discovery of the wall safe and the realization we really can’t live with drab-olive wallpaper…”

Ed tucked himself into Thorton’s side. “But the studio has to be finished first. Our record label is planning a big tour for us next year, and we need an album first. Our drummer Meg and her husband Big Mac just had their first child—”

“Which Big Mac swears is going to be their only.”

The two men looked at each other and laughed.

We followed them out of the grand foyer, through the living room, on through the dining room, and to a large living space with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over a magical garden.

“It must be so beautiful in the summer.” I stepped toward the glass. Even on this dull, gray day, the light illuminated the space.

“We have a gardener who will take care of all of that.” Ed grinned. “Yeah, we’ve seen the pictures. Can’t wait.”

“Okay, and why did you laugh when you said Big Mac swears this is going to be their only… ?”

“Ethan.” Kingston held a warning tone in his voice.

“You need to sit.” Thorton drew our attention to a little alcove.

Immediately, I saw why they hadn’t noticed. The antechamber was next to the fireplace and just appeared to be flush with it. But on the other side, the bookshelf was set back. When one looked hard enough, the difference was clear. But one had to be looking.

Thornton ushered Kingston to a chair Ed must’ve placed there. Then he turned to me. “The birth wasn’t easy on Meg. Big Mac doesn’t ever want to see his wife go through that again.”

“But Meg wants at least one more.” Ed grinned. “And I have to say that what Meg wants, she gets.”

“I find that’s usually smartest.” I placed Kingston’s tool kit next to him and opened it.

He glared.

I smiled.

He turned back to the wall safe.

I pivoted to the men. “Like my gran says, arguing with a lady is really rude. I mean, if the lady’s wrong and someone might get hurt, that’s one thing. But arguing for the sake of arguing? That’s just…” I scrunched my nose. “Although I guess you could say that arguing with anyone just for the sake of arguing is wrong. But my dad’s like that. He’ll take the opposite view from me—even if he’s never felt that way before.

“And I don’t know if it’s, like, to toughen me up or to make me defend my positions. Sometimes I can see I’m wrong. I will totally admit that. Because admitting being wrong is a sign of strength. Or at least that’s what gran says. She says toxic masculinity is real and I have to always be gentle with everyone, especially—”

“I’ve got it open.”

That brought me up short. For some reason, I’d assumed it would take Kingston, like, hours to open the safe. Not a mere… I checked my watch. Eight minutes.

“Perfect. Okay, what’s in it?” Ed moved closer.

Kingston swung open the door.

Thornton and I inched closer as well.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Ed cocked his head. “Is that… a stamp collection?”

Several stamps were displayed in frames while there were stacks and stacks and stacks of books.

Ed snagged one and opened it. “Oh, wow.” He passed it to Thornton and grabbed another one.

Thornton opened it and showed me.

Beautiful, vibrant postage stamps.

I burst out laughing. “All that for this?”

Thornton grinned. “Totally worth it. Plus, we’re getting rid of that wallpaper.”

For the first time, I really looked. I moved to the wall and ran my hand along the raised section. It felt…fuzzy. “What the hell?”

“Very 1970s.” Ed laughed. “We’ve been busy since we moved in. There’s a massive room in the basement, and we hang out there with the band. This room’s been a low priority. Would you like a tour of the house? Kingston’s seen it all since he re-keyed everything here for us.”

“Wow, that must’ve been a lot of work.” I scrunched my nose as I tried to figure out how many locks would actually be involved.

“Actually, he’s very efficient.” Ed patted Kingston on the back. “Would you like a coffee while Thornton shows your friend around? Oh, or do you have somewhere else to be? We don’t want to hold you up.”

Please don’t have somewhere else to be. Please say yes to the coffee. Please —

“Tea would be lovely, if you don’t mind.”

“Tea’s great. I’m going to have another coffee because Axel is coming—”

“Axel Townsend is coming here?” Okay, I might’ve squeaked that. Ed was Grindstone’s bassist, and totally hot. But Axel? The lead singer? When he took his shirt off, crowds went nuts.

Kingston sighed as he maneuvered himself onto his crutches. He met Ed’s gaze. “Don’t mind him. He’s…new.”

Ed laughed. “As opposed to you who’ve been catering to the whims of Vancouver’s elite for years. Oh, the secrets you know.”

“And will never share.” He eyed me. “Like today.”

I nodded. Keeping my mouth shut about today would be like, super hard, but I’d do it. I hadn’t told anyone about Peter and Thomas. Well, Gran knew. And she’d reminded me to keep my mouth shut if I wanted to work for them again in the future. I mimed zipping my lips.

“While I’m making the tea, I’m going to text the realtor, Juanita. She’ll have to figure out how to get the stamps to the next of kin.”

I cocked my head.

“Oh, the music producer died.” Thornton shrugged. “Died in the primary bedroom. So we got a bit of a deal on the house.”

Connecting those two thoughts took me a moment. I wasn’t suspicious. If someone died, they died. Where and how didn’t really matter to me.

“Let’s get started on the tour. We’ll head upstairs.”

Forty-five minutes later, Thornton and I left the studio and headed back to the main house, walking past the pool. “This is so very cool.” Okay, apparently I said cool sometimes.

Thorton shrugged. “I inherited a nice sum of money and sold my loft in Portland. The documentary reached a decent audience, and…I probably shouldn’t be sharing all my secrets.”

Again, I mimed zipping my lips. For some reason, people found me easy to talk to. Which was awesome because I discovered lots of neat little facts, but sucked because I had to keep those secrets inside me, even as they wanted to burst from my chest.

Kingston and Ed sat at the breakfast table, again with the stunning view of the backyard, with a stack of about twenty of those stamp collection books on the table.

Ed shrugged. “They’re now ours. Juanita spoke with the producer’s son, and the guy made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with it. I said we should pay, and the guy said to enjoy our discovery. Juanita interpreted that as fuck off, I’m good. Who are we to argue?”

“What are we going to do with them?”

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “This is something you pass down through generations, right? And with Meg and Big Mac having kids…”

I wanted to ask if these two planned to have children. Or Axel with his husband Hugo. But that was way beyond what would be considered proper.

Even I knew that.

“So we put them back in the safe—only we’ll have the combination this time—and in twenty years we see if there is a child in our lives who is interested.” Thornton laid his hand on the pile gently.

“Sounds logical.” Ed held out his hand.

Thornton grasped it.

The moment held suspended.

“So, like, does anyone want peanuts?” I reached into the pocket of my pants and yanked out a package of salted peanuts. “Because I’m really hungry, and I’m always happy to share.” Truthfully, I could’ve eaten the entire pack, but I was trying to be polite.

“We’ll let these good men get on with their day, and we’ll eat something at my—” Even as Kingston said the words, his phone buzzed. “Pardon me.”

Thornton grinned. “I love peanuts.”

Taking that as permission, I ripped the package open.

Both Thornton and Ed happily took a handful.

As much as I wanted to scarf down the rest, I knew better. I saved a couple for Kingston, but the glare he gave me had me changing my mind and downing the rest of the package myself.

I was about to pocket the wrapper when Thornton snagged it from me. With a grin. “Least we can do. We’re in your debt. Maybe you’d like to come by another day to meet the band?”

“Oh, that would be—”

“Completely unnecessary.” Kingston struggled with his crutches.

I would’ve offered to help, but somehow I sensed that wouldn’t be welcomed. Instead, I bent to pick up the tool kit—which Ed had clearly carried in here.

“We need to be going. I just got another callout.” He met my gaze. “This is a specialized call, and so we’re driving out to Cedar Valley. You need to be somewhere else?”

“No. Peter said I’m to stick with you until you can take care of yourself. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“God help me.”

Thornton and Ed laughed.

Kingston didn’t.