Make the Yuletide Gay (Sugarplums 8)

"Yeah, and they don't get any stranger than me." The deep, graveled voice was familiar. "Hiya, Harriet. Gary. Mind if I join you? Georgia says y'all have all the cream."

Hari shook her head. "I'm leaving. You can keep Gary company." She tottered upright, gained her balance, and clapped a hand on Gary's shoulder. "Nice seeing you, Gary. Stop by Springfield if you ever get a chance." She slung her purse onto her shoulder and left.

The new guy slid into her place and picked up her coffee cup. He used the napkin to wipe away her lipstick, and then sipped without raising his head so Gary could see who his new guest was. "Blech. She always did use too much sweetener." He raised his head until his brown eyes laughed at Gary's surprised expression. "Long time no see."

Gary's heart skipped a few beats. Adam Crider had been the focus of more than a few of Gary's adolescent fantasies when Adam had been captain of the football team, Homecoming King, and all around guy most likely to succeed at anything he wanted. Even now, the weathered tan was a few shades darker than it had been in school, but the face was still just as handsome. "Hi, Adam. How have you been?"

"'Bout the same. Nothing much changes around here, if you haven't noticed." For some reason, Adam's lips twisted into a half smile. "Gets damn boring, to be honest."

Gary couldn't help but agree, so he took his last bite of pie and nodded.

"You've changed." Adam took another sip, but didn't lose the ironic smile on his face. "You always were skinny as hell, but you've filled out. Guess all that diving does that."

One of Gary's eyebrows shot up. Someone besides his immediate family knew what he did? Okay, that was possible, but 90% of Americans couldn't give a damn about what he found in Alexandria's harbor unless it had to do with Cleopatra herself. Even then, they wouldn't understand half of what he said concerning what he'd found. "Yeah. That and I did a little experimental archaeology."

"Yeah, I know. Saw the pictures of you helping engineers figure out how the pyramid blocks might have been made with dolomite." Adam's answer was bland. "Bet it was hot as hell. You looked funny stripped down to that itty bitty loincloth thing they made the workers wear, but you got one helluva tan." Adam studied Gary's surprised face. "Sun bleached your hair, too."

"How did you know all that?" Gary knew he'd never sent the pictures of himself wearing the linen costume of an Egyptian stone worker because his mother would have had a litter of kittens at his being half-naked and crouched in the hot sun, beating on one big rock with a smaller round one.

Adam tipped his hat further back and lounged all over the red Naugahyde bench. "Just 'cause I'm a worthless ol' cowboy, doesn't mean I don't read. Happens I got a degree in structural engineering and I still get the trade magazines. You made the back pages of Cadalyst, because Doc Aimsley used a CAD program to map out the project on my computer."

Gary snorted. Aimsley was a publication whore who'd put his byline on any article, no matter how obscure. In the cutthroat world of who published first, Aimsley was a real pirate. No one liked him, but he got the money to get projects done in the first place. "Structural engineering jobs would be hard to come by around here."

"I know. My dad got sick. Cancer. I came home to take care of him. He died just after Thanksgiving." Adam swallowed, the pain still fresh in his eyes. "Least he's with Mom now." He slugged back a large gulp of coffee. "Blech. I wish she'd make it taste less like a chemical factory. Anyways, you ever ride a camel?"

He took the hint. Gary recognized Adam's need to change the subject to something less painful. He snorted and shoved his pie plate to the side. "They stink to high heaven, but you get where you're going. So, yeah, I've ridden a camel."

Adam's hat tipped lower, and he leaned in. His voice was softer than an angel's kiss, and so low Gary leaned in to hear him. "How about a cowboy?"