Chapter Ten

“WHAT are you still doing here?” Derek asked.

Thane looked up from the tile he was installing. “I’m laying these tiles.”

“Smartass. I can see that. Why aren’t you leaving? It’s almost three thirty.”

Thane was well aware of the time, thank you. He’d picked this job precisely because he couldn’t finish it before three thirty. “The tile isn’t done. I can’t leave until I’m finished.”

“You can’t lie worth a damn, Dalton. Why aren’t you leaving?”

“I told you. The tile isn’t done.”

“And there are half-a-dozen guys within earshot who could come finish it for you if you wanted to leave, so tell me another one,” Derek retorted.

“All of them have other responsibilities,” Thane said. He wasn’t getting into this at work, not even with Derek.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, is that the problem?” Derek chortled. “I thought you were going out on Saturday to take care of that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you haven’t had any action since the boys came to live with you—which is totally understandable—but you’re not used to self-denial,” Derek said with a shit-eating grin. “And on top of that, you’re all tied up in knots over the cute principal you want to pretend you hate. What happened? Did you get shot down on Saturday?”

“I didn’t get shot down,” Thane protested, but he couldn’t meet Derek’s gaze. “I didn’t see anyone who caught my interest.”

“Liar.”

Thane shot to his feet, fists clenched. “Watch it, Jackson. We’ve been friends a long time. I really don’t want to deck you.”

Derek snorted. “Like you’d manage to land a punch even if you threw one. You’re stalling. What happened?”

“Drop it, okay? I have work to do.”

“Fine, don’t tell me, but do us all a favor and don’t lie to yourself. Whatever the problem is, you’ll only make it worse if you do.”

Thane rolled his eyes and turned back to the tile at his feet. He wasn’t lying to himself. He just wasn’t thinking about it.

Derek left the bathroom after that, robbing Thane of the distraction of their verbal sparring. Thane spread the thin-set mud across another section of floor and pressed a square of tile into place. Derek had it all wrong. He hadn’t gotten shot down on Saturday. He hadn’t made an offer for anyone to refuse. He’d just… watched.

Like a teenager with a crush he didn’t know how to manage.

Shit. He hadn’t been that kid even when he was a teenager. What was wrong with him now? If he hadn’t known who Barnes was, he wouldn’t have thought twice about pursuing him out onto the dance floor, even after the scene with the drinks. He’d have taken it as flirting, as an invitation to pursuit, not a dismissal. He didn’t take no for an answer, not in business and not in pleasure. He went after what he wanted until he got it. He always had.

Except this time there was more at stake than business or pleasure. This time he had Kit and Phillip to think about. Right now Barnes was helping them in his own way. Maybe it wasn’t the way Thane would have chosen, but Kit’s grades had come up, both boys enjoyed stage crew, and neither of them had mentioned problems with the bullies since they’d started their community service. The four weeks weren’t up, but Thane couldn’t see them stopping at the end of their sentence, not with how much they talked about what they were doing. No, they’d see it to the end this year and probably go back for more next year.

He could live with that. He might not agree with the way Barnes ran things, but Kit and Phillip were happy, so his opinion didn’t matter. As long as working with the stage crew brought smiles to their faces, he would encourage it in any way he could. He just needed to find ways to encourage it that didn’t involve him having to work with Barnes all the time. That would never be anything but awkward.

The vision of red cotton pulled tight over surprisingly buff arms floated through his mind.

Awkward. Because while it was cold enough right now for Barnes to wear sweatshirts when they worked, it would warm up eventually, and when it did, he’d exchange sweatshirts for T-shirts, and Thane would be stuck staring at his arms. Not to mention his ass.

He grabbed another piece of tile, but his fingers slipped on the surface and the edge sliced across his palm. “Fuck,” he cursed as blood welled up. “Jackson, I need someone to finish this tile.”

Derek popped back into the bathroom far too quickly for Thane’s liking. “Changed your mind about going to Henry Clay?”

“No, I’m going to the emergency room. This is going to need stitches. Get someone to finish up in here, or at least to use the thin set I have mixed up so it doesn’t go to waste. If we need to mix up another batch tomorrow, that’s fine.”

Derek looked at Thane’s hand critically. “Can you drive like that? I can have Glenn take you to Central Baptist. He just went to take a smoke break.”

Thane could drive there, but depending on what they gave him for the pain, driving home might be more complicated. “Probably a good idea.”

“Get your gear. I’ll get Glenn. And give me your keys. We’ll get your truck home.”

Thane fished in his tool belt until he found his keys and tossed them to Derek. “Will you tell the boys what’s going on if they get home before I do?”

“Get out of here. I’ll take care of everything, including the boys.”

Thane gave Derek a grateful nod and went in search of his things. Derek might drive him crazy, but he could always rely on him in a pinch.

THANE let himself into his house four hours later. The ER doctor had put six stitches in his palm and given him something strong enough for the pain that he was feeling pretty good right about now.

“Uncle Thane!”

He braced himself at the sound of his name. Kit came barreling into the hallway and threw his arms around Thane’s waist. “Derek said you were hurt. Are you okay?”

“I cut my hand. The doc put some stitches in it. It’ll be okay in a week or so. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to stage crew today.”

“We were worried,” Phillip said, “but I told Kit you’d have a good reason for not being there.”

“Does a trip to the ER count as a good reason?” Thane joked. From the look on Kit’s and Phillip’s faces, the joke fell flat. “Sorry. I should have called your phones to let you know why I wasn’t coming so you wouldn’t worry. I’m still not used to this guardian gig.”

“You’re doing pretty good for less than two months of practice,” Kit said, giving Thane another hug. “What can we do to help?”

“Right now, I just want something to eat and then to sleep off the effects of whatever the doctor gave me. Tomorrow we’ll see how my hand feels. I have to be careful about getting the stitches wet, but I can use it unless it hurts too much.”

“We have food,” Phillip said. “Derek made spaghetti.”

“With his mom’s secret sauce?” Thane perked up at the thought.

“Yes, idiot,” Derek said from the doorway. “What else would I make it with?”

“Asshole.”

“Dick.”

Kit and Phillip laughed, bringing a smile to Thane’s face. He still didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but if he could make his boys laugh, he couldn’t be doing too badly.

BLAKE had just set the kids to taping the seams between the flats on the sewer set when he heard heavy footsteps on the stage behind him. None of the students moved that heavily, which meant he had company.

He summoned a smile and turned to face Thane. “Mr. Dalton, I wasn’t sure if we’d see you today.”

“Sorry I wasn’t here on Tuesday,” Thane said. “I had to make a detour by the ER.”

Blake blanched when Thane held up his bandaged hand. “What did you do to yourself?”

“Cut my hand on a piece of tile. I wasn’t paying close enough attention to what I was doing.”

“Are you sure you’re up to working today?” Blake asked. “Not that you can’t observe, if that’s what you’d prefer, but I wouldn’t want to make your injury worse.”

“It’s my left hand, not my right. I can still hold a paintbrush. That’s what Kit and Phillip said you were doing most of this week,” Thane replied evenly.

“I suppose that’s true.” Blake shifted from one foot to the other, feeling incredibly awkward. He could feel Thane’s gaze pinning him like he’d done at the club, but this time they didn’t have the barrier of disco lights, music, and a churning mass of bodies to act as a buffer. “Right, so, painting. There are brushes stage left. Everything gets painted black for now. We’ll add the pipes in gray later. The senior art students will come chalk them in after we have the background done. Pick a platform that’s been taped and have at it.” He gestured vaguely toward where they had rolled the finished walls. “I’ll just… be over there. Taping.”

Blake scurried away, cheeks aflame as he cursed his inability to put together a coherent sentence in Thane’s presence. He had to get it together or the students who knew him best would start asking questions he couldn’t answer.

He took a minute to cross the hall to the shop and check on the students who were working in there under Zach’s careful supervision. They had everything under control, though, so he had no reason to linger. He could check in with Jenny where she was running lines with the actors in her classroom, but she wouldn’t appreciate the distraction, especially since he had no real question to ask her. He’d already updated her on their progress with the sets and the fact that they’d be far enough along by the end of next week for her to start rehearsing onstage. The mission set was almost finished, and they could work backstage on the others while she started choreographing the mission scenes onstage.

That left going back into the theater to work on the sets that hadn’t been finished yet. Back where Thane was. He tugged on the hem of his sweatshirt, glad it was an oversized one that hung loosely on him. He couldn’t stop Thane from watching him, but he could control what the other man saw. He’d have to remember to dig out all his longest, loosest sweatshirts so he’d be ready, no matter which day Thane chose to come help. He could mostly handle being watched at the club when he’d dressed for the attention, but he left all that at home when he came to school.

He slipped quietly back into the theater through the stage right door, as far away from where Thane would be working as possible unless he went up into the light box, but he couldn’t do any good up there until Jenny had all the choreography laid out and he could start working with Amber on the best way to highlight the important parts of each scene. Stage right was blessedly empty for the moment, so Blake crossed to the curtains that separated the wings from the stage and simply looked over the stage. A couple of the kids had moved the platforms out into the center of the stage, and Thane stood on one, paintbrush in hand, laughing with Morgan as they painted.

Damn it, Thane wasn’t supposed to make the kids like him. He was supposed to be the arrogant asshole so Blake could go on resenting him. It made it so much easier to ignore his attraction when he could honestly say he didn’t like the man. As he watched, Kit came bouncing up to his uncle, a grin on his face. Thane reached out with his bandaged hand and tousled Kit’s hair. Kit’s grin widened into a beaming smile. The change from the sullen boy in his office only a few weeks earlier was marked. Blake wanted to take credit for some of that, but he suspected most of the progress came from Thane. Blake tore his gaze from the scene and went to work before he could do something stupid—like try to join the perfect tableau.