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extended leave from his post in Europe because his mother was dying. He didn't go into any details about his mother because it was too soon for that, and he didn't go into details about his work in the Navy because he couldn't. He was in intelligence, and most of the work he did was top secret. He just skimmed over his life: He'd been in the service since he was twenty-one and he'd worked hard to become an officer. The requirements sounded staggering, from the physical standards to the moral obligations. Brody spoke quickly and moved his large hands around; he had a habit of laughing and then punching Chance lightly on the shoulder. Chance just sipped his drink and listened quietly. Brody seemed so eager to just sit there and talk that Chance had hardly said anything about his own life, which was fine with him. The only part of his life he mentioned was his love of cooking and his obsession with the Food Network. It was the only part of his meager life worth mentioning.
Brody had gone to a local four-year college, and he'd commuted from home. But he frowned and lowered his voice when he offhandedly told Chance that those years had been difficult. He'd almost been arrested when he was in college for possession of drugs—just pot, not hard drugs—but he'd been lucky that the cop had known his father and had let him off with a strong warning. Of course, the cop had to tell his mother, and that didn't help their strained relationship. He shook his head slowly when he told Chance that he actually screwed his biology professor to get a B. "I guess I was trouble back then," he said. "My grades weren't bad, but could have been much better if I'd really studied. Thankfully, my SAT scores were really good, though. They saved me."
Chance stared at him and tilted his head. "Sounds like you're pretty secure now."
Brody swallowed the last drops of his beer and thought for a moment. "I'm okay with where I am now, but I'm not finished. There's more to the story, but I don't want to get into it right now."
He ordered another beer, and Chance continued sipping his one martini while Brody continued to talk about how the Navy had shaped his life and helped make him a man. By the time Chance looked at his watch for the first time that night it was nearly eleven o'clock. "I have to get going, man," he said, "I have to be at work tomorrow morning very early." He tried to make it sound natural and not like an excuse to leave early, but when he saw how the expression on Brody's face fell, he knew he had to say something else. "Seriously, man. I really do have to get up very early, but I had a great time tonight. I'd like to get together again." He smiled and then lightly punched Brody on the shoulder. "That is, if you want to."
Brody sat up straight and smiled. "Cool. I'll walk you back to your car and we can exchange numbers. I'm going home, too."
When they were in the dark parking lot walking side by side, Brody reached down and placed his palm lightly on the small of Chance's back. Nothing too obvious, but it was a little possessive, Chance thought. So he pointed toward the second row and said, "My car is over there." Walking around, even if it was in the dark, with Brody's hand on his back make his stomach rumble a few times. But his stomach nearly jumped out of his mouth when Brody lowered his palm into his back pocket and started playing with his ass right there in the parking lot. It was all so casual and matter-of-fact; he just slipped his hand down and started squeezing. " You're not shy, are you?" Chance asked.
Brody stepped back and shrugged. "I like you, is all. And you've got a great ass." Then he pointed to the other side of the parking lot, near a long row of leafy trees. "I'm parked over there. Why don't you walk me to my car?" He smiled and started moving his eyebrows up and down.
He thought about saying no because he wasn't sure he wanted to get too attached to someone just passing through town, but it occurred to him that he