Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

to? These people were his best friends, but only Jordan—and so probably Tag too—knew about his dreams. Swallowing past the niggle of guilt, he said, “I feel like a jackass deserting you all again, but I really have to get back to what I was doing yesterday. I can't talk about it right now. I just have to do it.”

“Is he cute?” Sylvia asked.

Colin furrowed his brow at the smirk gracing Sylvia's mahogany face. “What?”

“The 'something'“—Sylvia put her fingers up in quotes—“you're doing. Is he cute? And don't tell me it's not a man. You have your shoulders pushed back and some sort of secret something special showing on your face. Unless you've switched teams, it's a man.”

That obvious already? Shit. That meant Marek could certainly sense the attraction in Colin too.

Sylvia tapped her long fingernails against the table. “We're waiting.”

“All right, fine,” Colin conceded. “Yes, it has to do with a man. But not necessarily what you're thinking.” Definitely not what they were imagining. Yet. Maybe one day though. Colin was now 99 percent certain Marek was gay. He would give just about anything to sink into a deep kiss with the man and confirm it. His very being ached to be close to Marek again, to touch him, to be near him physically, and see what would happen.

“Oh yeah,” Alison said, slapping the table and pulling Colin back to the group. “It's a man all right. Look at our Colin. He's all hot and bothered.”

“Whatever I am, don't a single one of you”—Colin set his focus on Sylvia, Alison, and Jordan one at a time, drilling them with the evil eye—“dare turn me into an investigation. This is personal, and I have to figure it out myself.”

Jordan jabbed him in the shoulder. “I don't have to like it, and you can ditch my little excursions all you want.” She glared up at him. “But if you don't show up at my wedding, I'm gonna kick your ass.”

“I wouldn't miss you tying the knot for anything.” Colin leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jordan's halo of red hair. “And don't worry, I'll even be here for the rehearsal and dinner tonight.”

Squinting, Jordan scrutinized Colin for an uncomfortably long beat. “I'll leave you to your”—she waved her hand around in the air—“whatever, without bothering you. For now.”

Exchanging a look with Tag, Colin got a little nod of backup. Giving the man a small smile of thanks, Colin added to the group, “I'll see you all tonight. Bye.”

Colin left to a chorus of smooching sounds serenading him.

He had to laugh. He did have good friends.

* * * * *

On his hands and knees, Marek dug in the moist, nutrient-enriched earth, barely mindful of separating the vegetables from weeds as he tugged carrots from a large wood planter. His movements were jerky and clumsy as he crawled across one aisle of the greenhouse and started planting seedlings for some new lettuce and then jumped up to check on his hanging planters of tomatoes without finishing either of the previous two projects. Marek pulled a few ripe red tomatoes from the vine and slipped them into a canvas bag with a handful of other items to wash later and eat for lunch.

He suddenly stopped and looked around, spotting a dozen small messes where he'd begun working on something only to get antsy and feel a compulsion to move on to the next. Sleep had eluded him last night, but that wasn't so unusual for Marek. He often made do with a few hours here and there. Letting this sanctuary look like a tornado had swept through it, however, was an aberration. A tribute to his lover who had been a vegetarian, this greenhouse never looked less than perfect.

Until this morning.

Christ, Pay, I usually find such peace with you in here, and now I've turned everything into a disaster area. Marek sat down on a wide bench and leaned his back into the heat of the glass behind him. I even brought another man in here with me for the first time since you went away. Fuck. Why do I even care that Colin didn't come back yesterday?

Because he's an unpredictable, unsolved problem, Marek reasoned. He didn't know what Colin Baxter hoped to gain by making his outrageous claims, but he for damn sure wouldn't get a dime out of Marek for his troubles. Or maybe he will. Christ knows I owe it to him.

Or maybe Colin didn't want anything from Marek. Colin might just be telling the truth. About everything. But if that was the case, then why didn't he come back like he said he would? It all felt too much like mind games, and Marek didn't know if his was in any kind of shape right now to spar with someone out to swindle him. Or hurt him. Both could break him, in different ways.

Marek scrubbed his face, scratching through the stubble of his week-old beard. He looked around the greenhouse, searching for answers that simply didn't exist. Confusion ate at him, mingling with an ever-present state of exhaustion, dragging him down. Even though he could still hear Pay's reasonable, loving voice in his head, speaking to him clear as day, he wished he could talk to him face-to-face. Marek already knew Payton would tell him to trust his gut, to have faith in his instincts. He would also tell Marek to let himself go and believe someone would always be there to catch him. Of course, that used to translate to Payton meaning that he would be there, if only Marek could release his fears and openly leap into the safety of his lover's embrace. Jesus, Marek didn't want anything more than the security of those arms right now.

“Hello?” The voice came out of nowhere, making Marek shiver.

Marek slid his eyes closed, almost unable to bear the band tightening his chest. For a split second, he thought Payton rose and spoke to him from the dead. Worse, though, when