“Sasha.” She took Stella’s hand, their eyes locked. “And if the bodyguard position is open, I would choose that over bouncer.”

Benson covered his face with his hand.

Rory grinned. Well, maybe Sasha wasn’t too concerned about a little affection between men.

Jade smiled knowingly at Rory. “Arthur can leave his car here,” she said. “I’ll walk you to the street and help call you two a cab.”

Chapter Six

Rory had only the ride to the Upper West Side to come up with a plan.

“Switch hats with me,” he said to Arthur, in the back seat of the cab. “And let me have your suit jacket.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Arthur muttered, but he was already passing over his fedora. Unlike Rory, who’d spent his own drunk cab ride trying to flirt, Arthur hadn’t said anything that would make a cabbie blink. “You realize your cap isn’t going to go with my suit.”

Rory pulled Arthur’s fedora over his fluffy hair. “Put it on anyway.”

“But to complement this cap I ought to do something like a herringbone tweed. I’m wearing wool pinstripes and you know, I don’t think the band is going to fit my head—”

“Make it work, Ace,” Rory ordered. “And hurry up with the jacket.”

“Bossy.” Arthur wriggled out of his jacket with difficulty, maneuvering gracelessly in the tight back seat. “Do you like chocolate?”

“You know I do.” Rory turned sideways on the back seat and tugged on the black pinstriped suit jacket over the waiter’s uniform he was still wearing. “What’s that got to do with anything?” he added, as he smoothed the sleeves, which came halfway down his hands. It was way too big, but he’d have to hope no one gave them too much attention.

“I brought you some chocolates from Montreal,” said Arthur. “The box is in my trunk. But don’t say anything about it, it’s a surprise for your birthday.”

Rory bit back a smile. “Yeah, you got it,” he promised.

As the cabbie parked, Rory dropped his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Doorman asks who I am, tell ’em the nephew story, all right? Theodore Kenzie.”

Arthur looked at him for a long moment. “I like that,” he said quietly.

“Good,” said Rory. “So you can—”

“Although the nephew part is a bit odd, come to it, isn’t it, considering we—that we, well—considering I’m very clearly not your uncle and not exactly looking to fill that particular role in your life—”

“Definitely talky after drinks,” Rory muttered with affection, and passed the cab fare to the driver in the front seat.

Arthur managed to walk on his own, looking mostly dignified and only stumbling the tiniest bit as the doorman opened the door for them.