“That’ll be work,” he muttered, recognizing the ringtone, and he bolted out of the bathroom to answer it.
I put away the iodine, dropped the washcloth into the hamper, and went into the living room.
“But I’m…” Wills stood there, very naked, very gorgeous, and very unhappy. “…I’m supposed to take my orders from—” … “No, I’m not questioning your authority, sir. I know Mr. Vincent is out of town, and that you’re—” … “But—” … “Yes, but—” … “Yes, sir. May I at least—” His eyes got that flat look, and his mouth became a grim line. “Very well, sir. I’ll pack a suitcase and pick up my tickets at Dulles.”
I felt deflated. Even when he had the weekend off, there was always the likelihood that he’d be called in to work.
“I’d better…” He glanced impatiently at the clock on the mantel. “If I’m to make the flight on time, I have to start packing now,” he snarled into the phone. “Yes. Goodbye, sir.” He flipped his phone shut. “Goddamned supercilious son of a bitch bastard.”
“Wills?”
“I have to go out of town, Theo. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, babe.”
He stalked out of the room, barely giving me time to admire the taut, pale curves of his ass.
I sighed, pleased that I was getting better at hiding how much I hated it when he went out of town, and eased my shorts over my injured ass and pulled on my jeans.
His suitcase and a garment bag were on the bed, but he was in the bathroom, and the shower was running. It was a measure of his annoyance that he wasn’t singing.
I went to the dresser and took out shorts and undershirts, socks and handkerchiefs. A few days’ worth should do. I hoped he wouldn’t be gone longer than that.
The water turned off, and in a matter of minutes he came out, a towel wrapped around his waist. He tossed his shaving kit into the suitcase, jerked open the chest at the foot of the bed, and pulled out a tool belt and a pair of work boots. In addition to the underwear I’d placed on the bed, he took out more, as well as some jeans and flannel shirts. How long was he going to be gone? What was he planning on doing?
And since when did computer techs dress like construction workers?
Wills was swearing under his breath, steadily and in a flat monotone, and what I could make out shocked me, not because I hadn’t heard the words before, but because I’d never heard my lover use them.
“Babe?”
“I’ve got forty-five fucking minutes to pack and get to the fucking airport.” He was packing with less than his usual finesse.
“Let me, babe.” Gently, I pushed him out of the way. “Your suits will get all wrinkled.” I put them into the garment bag.
“Fucking idiots.” He stripped off the towel, put on his underwear, and shoved his arms into the sleeves of a button down shirt. “They fucking screwed up, big time.”
I started to picture an entire building without computer access, but was distracted by the sight of him with his shirttails just covering the curve of his ass, of the white of his shorts peeking out from beneath them. I lost my train of thought. Even though I’d bought him pale blue, green, and gray silk shorts, he always wore white cotton boxers when he went out of town.
“Theo.”
“Huh?”
“I said I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” He paused and looked me in the eye. “I will be back.”
“Okay. Do you need a lift to the airport?”
“If you don’t mind?”
“Ass. Of course I don’t mind.” He’d be doing the driving. I’d just drive the Corvair home. “You’ll call me when you can?”
Wills didn’t answer me, and he didn’t meet my eyes. He sat on the bed and pulled on his socks, then stood and finished dressing. “Theo…” He ran a hand through his hair and gazed around the room, probably to see if he’d forgotten anything. “Dammit, I hate this shit. Mr. Vincent would never…”
“Wills.” I put my arms around him and kissed him. “It’ll be okay. Just take care of yourself, all right?”
“All right.” He held me, his cheek against mine, then let me go so I could put on half boots and a fisherman knit sweater. “We about ready?”
“Yeah. Just let me bank the fire and get my jacket.”
Wills already had his overcoat on when I entered the foyer. He handed me my bomber jacket, and I slid my arms into it.
“Watch over Poppa, okay, Suzie Q?” He bent to scratch Miss Su under the chin.
“Mrrow.”
I gave him the keys to the Corvair, and we hurried down the stairs and out of the house.
Wills didn’t seem to have much to say on the drive to the airport, and we arrived at Departures sooner than I would have liked. I slid over to the driver’s seat, flinching as I landed on the punctures on my ass. Wills removed his suitcase and garment bag from the back seat, and I told him again, “Eat your vegetables and get plenty of sleep. And come back to me in one piece.”