Maybe I’d become a stay-at-home dad and bake pies. I was already an expert at reindeer food.
Hell, I could buy a diner and serve up the best fries in town.
Nowthathad some possibilities.
From track master to fry master. Hells yeah.
Trent broke away from Arrow and Hopper and started toward me. His jeans were well-worn and molded around his thighs, the edge of the pocket near his hip frayed, loose strings waving as he walked. The hem of the open vintage Adidas jacket Ivy had come home with one day fluttered back to reveal the thick white T-shirt molded against his waist.
Forget what I said about all those possibilities. They were nothing at all compared to the certainty of him.
Noting the way I practically ate him with my eyes, his darkened, the lines at the corners deepening. He paused long enough to set down the plastic cup in his hand, the air between us crackling with chemistry as his palms slid over the sides of my waist to envelop my back.
“You keep looking at me like that and we’ll never make it to the cake,” he said in a shiver-inducing tone.
Gliding my palms upward over his pecs, I looped my arms around his neck and laid my forehead against his. “Then stop walking around like that.”
He arched a brow. “Like what?”
“More enticing than a French fry.”
His eyes did that crinkle thing again, and my stomach swooped. “That’s high praise from a fry monster like you.”
“You gonna kiss me or what?”
“Oh… I’m… gonna,” he murmured, lips brushing mine with every syllable before settling completely.
Humming in appreciation, I tangled my fingers in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull, tugging him that much tighter against me. T moaned, the sound vibrating my tongue, and I swallowed it down, letting it echo into my belly.
His tongue tasted like punch and mine like beer, two flavors that did not go together but were suddenly my new favorite combo. Trent’s hands slid from my back to my ass, tucking into the pockets on my jeans. He gave a whole new meaning to that sayingpocket full of sunshine.
A high-pitched whistle interfered with my good time, and Trent chuckled into the kiss. When he retreated, I growled and tried to pull him back, but he just grabbed my hands and kissed them quickly, eyes dancing with happiness. “I am one lucky bastard.”
I shook my head once, forcing the words through a hoarse throat. “I’m the lucky one.”
“Who’s the one-upper now?” he mused.
Romeo appeared, slapping Trent on the back. “The driver is on his way down from the gate,” he said.
My addled mind cleared, and I glanced over my shoulder, but the truck wasn’t in sight yet. “Now?”
“If we waited until you were done making out, the car would be rusted over,” Romeo drawled.
Trent twisted around. “I thought Lorhaven was escorting him down.”
“He’s already up there,” Romeo mused. “He texted to say they were coming.”
Trent nodded. “I’ll gather everyone up.”
Romeo’s teeth flashed. “B already did that.”
Upon our surprised looks, Romeo pointed toward the entire fam, which had already gathered around Braeden. I guess he was the one who’d whistled.
Romeo leaned in to tease Trent. “Maybe we should callyouRomeo.”
Trent pushed his head away. “Oh, fuck off, Rome. You know you and Rimmel are just as bad.”
Laughing, he threw an arm around each of our shoulders, squeezing his big-ass frame in the middle. “Does this make me the filling in a Trent and Drew sandwich?” he wondered as we walked toward the group.
