Lone Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

maddeningly.
    Mitch simmered over that for a time. “I just wondered if being gay made your job harder. That’s all.”
    “It doesn’t make it any easier, but then again I don’t sashay around in tights and eye makeup.” Web pulled neatly up in front of the rental car office.
    “Whatever,” Mitch muttered, unsnapping his seat belt.
    Web sounded brisk. “What are you gettin’ riled up about now, Mitch?”
    “Gee, I don’t know, Davy Crockett.” Mitch opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride.”
    The hand that landed on his shoulder startled him. Even more startling was the way that casual touch shot down through every nerve in his body and centered in his groin.
    “That wasn’t aimed at you.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    Web drew a breath. He said in painstaking tones, “I said that about tights and eye makeup because of what Mamie was talkin’ about at breakfast.”
    “I know why you said it.”
    Web’s blue gaze held Mitch’s. “I’ve never known a touchier bastard than you. You’re worse-tempered than a stripper in a cactus patch. What I’m tryin’ to say is, it’s okay for your job. It wouldn’t be okay for mine.”
    “Maybe that’s part of what you’re saying, but I don’t think that’s all of it. It doesn’t matter because I stopped caring what you think a long time ago.”
    “Then I guess I won’t waste any more breath apologizin’.”
    “Fine by me.”
    “Okay. Glad we got that settled. See you tonight?” Web’s blue eyes smiled teasingly into Mitch’s, and to Mitch’s exasperation, his bad temper faded beneath that double dose of deliberate charm.
    Well, that was how it had always been between them. Mitch, moody and oversensitive, taking offense at some dumb thing, and Web, easygoing and low-key, joking him right out of it.
    Until the last time.
    There hadn’t been anything funny that night.
    He nodded and jumped lightly to the blacktop parking lot.
    “Tell Gidget I said hello,” Web said.
    Mitch nodded and slammed the SUV door. Web raised his hand in farewell and Mitch automatically returned the gesture, watching as Web reversed the SUV and drove away.
    Christmas music was playing inside the car rental office. Barbara Mandrell’s Christmas at Our House . Mitch’s mother had owned that record and Mitch had played it every Christmas growing up. It gave him a jolt of nostalgia to hear the starting notes of “It Must Have Been the Mistletoe” as the door buzzer announced his arrival.
    A young woman with soft brown eyes and brown hair in a dancer’s topknot stood behind the counter. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mitch.
    “Why, Mitch Evans! Is that really you?” Before he had time to confirm or deny, she was out from behind the counter and hugging him. “It is you. I heard you were back. It’s me. Gidget!”
    “Wow. You look great, Gidget.” She did, although it was startling how little she’d changed. Still the tiny dancer. He’d have known her anywhere, despite the intervening twelve years. Together they’d been Miss Nesou’s most promising students, her “dream team.” Partnered in all the studio exhibitions and shows, it was inevitable that they’d get to know each other pretty well. Not totally well, though. Nobody but Web had completely known Mitch back then. In fact, in those days Gidget had had a crush on Mitch, which he’d taken pains not to encourage. He was happy to see she wore a wedding ring on her finger now, happy she’d found someone to love and appreciate her.
    “Are you still dancing?” The inevitable question.
    She shook her head regretfully. “No. You know how it is. Real life comes along.” She laughed. “Or I guess you don’t. You really did it! Miss Nesou was so proud of you. Mitchell Evans, principal dancer with the American Ballet Theater. She had framed pictures of you posted all over the studio from when you were a boy to when you danced Puck that first time as a soloist.”
    “I was sorry to hear—I didn’t know.”
    “It