At Long Last

and Scotty knew without looking it was Preston.
    "I don't know anything about that. He barely even talks to me," Scotty said quickly, hoping the panic in his voice didn't give him away.
    "I didn't think you did," Jack said. "Just mentioning it."
    "Oh, okay, Ben, I'll be right there." Scotty shifted his cell to his other ear and turned away from Preston's stare.
    "Ben, huh?" Jack chuckled. "I'll let you go. Wendy's calling me from the other room anyway. Bye."
    "Bye." He closed his cell and pocketed it. He turned and smiled at Preston. "All set?"
    "Yeah. Who was that?"
    "Jack, being a pain in the ass as usual. Forget it." He turned to head for the car.
    "Wait." Preston briefly touched his arm.
    "What is it?"
    "We need to make a quick stop in a shop."
    Scotty frowned. "Okay. Lead the way."
    They walked past the restaurant and down a few doors to the shop that had the paintings. Preston entered through the door. Scotty followed.
    The tall, thin dark-haired woman smiled from behind the counter. "There you are, Mr. Reynolds. I'll go and get it."
    Scotty watched her go through a door in the back. "Get what?"
    Preston just smiled.
    The woman returned holding a large frame wrapped in brown paper. She handed it over to Preston. "Thank you again. I am sure you will be very pleased with it. It's a beautiful painting."
    "I'm sure. Thanks." Preston nodded toward the door and Scotty opened it for him.
    When they were out on the sidewalk again, Scotty said, "You bought a painting?"
    Preston grinned. "Yeah, for you."
    Scotty froze. "For me?"
    "Uh-huh. The one you admired Friday. Come on, this is heavy." Preston started walking toward the car and Scotty automatically walked after him.
    "What? But, that's...that's too much. That was expensive. I can't accept that."
    It was Preston's turn to stop. He turned and stared at Scotty with a huge frown. "Look, I have the money and I wanted to buy it for you. Please, don't spoil it."
    Scotty felt like a giant ass and was instantly remorseful. What an ingrate. He exhaled, and then smiled as bright as he could make it. "Okay. I'm sorry. Thank you. It's great. I love it."
    Preston nodded. "Much better."
    "Hmm. I don't know where I'll put it though. And if I show up with that to my parents' house my dad will throw a fit. He'll accuse me of being irresponsible with my money."
    "We'll keep it at my house for now," Preston said.
    They put it in the trunk of his car. It barely fit with their bags. Scotty wanted to ask if his painting being at Preston's house meant they had some sort of relationship, but didn't want to spoil the weekend or the present by springing the question.
    He went to get in the driver's side. "Oh, I've been meaning to tell you there may be a problem with your case for Mrs. Windham's grandson."
    "Problem?"
    "Yeah. He's guilty."
    Preston sighed. "It's my job to prove he's innocent."
    Scotty smiled. "Then you definitely have a problem."

Chapter 8
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    Two Saturday evenings later, Preston hung up after speaking to his children. He didn't get to see them nearly enough, but at least he kept in touch with them by phone several times a week.
    He was expecting Scott at any time. They'd seen each frequently over the last couple of weeks, all the while striving for discretion at all times. Which suited Preston well.
    He'd begun to accept the possible truth that he might prefer men. It couldn't be that Scott was that incredibly attractive that he was the only man who tempted Preston. Scott did, of course, but he couldn't really kid himself into believing Scott would be the only man he would ever find attractive.
    The knowledge that he was most likely gay did not sit well with him, however. More than once Preston had wondered if maybe he should see a psychiatrist. It couldn't be normal to be attracted to men. It just...couldn't. Such a thing went against everything he'd ever been taught, how he was raised, how he'd developed every relationship he'd ever had. And it wasn't as though he couldn't get an erection with women. He definitely had no problems there.
    Once he'd even taken out the phone book and looked up mental health professionals. He hadn't gotten up the nerve to actually call one, though.
    He'd considered that his attraction to men could be just a phase. He dismissed that though when he remembered that before Scott left for New York six years ago Preston had wanted him. It hadn't just happened. And he didn't think he could ignore it either. Two minutes around Scott and he was