“Can’t argue with that.” I couldn’t think of anything worse. “Did you drive here?”
“How the fuck else would I get here?”
He’s not big on taxis or Ubers, and I doubt he’s ever taken public transport his entire life. “Don’t do that again.” Tipping his chin up with a thumb under it, I force him to look at me. The tired glint to his brown eyes doesn’t take away how beautiful they are. “You should have called me, and I would have come to get you.”
“Last night or now?”
What kind of question is that? “Both. It doesn’t matter where you are, or what time you contact me, I willalwayscome and get you. Don’t drive hungover ever again.”
He visibly swallows. “Okay.”
“Good.” I can’t resist taking a kiss. Now that the floodgates have been opened, now that I know he’ll welcome this from me whenever I want it, there’s nothing that can stop me from taking as often as possible. I’ve always allowed him to set the pace, and I don’t think we can ever go back to that comfort level. Some of those locks are broken irreparably now.
“Everyone should be getting here in about an hour,” I tell him, lips brushing his. “Hunter says he’s bringing the truck, and Jericho and Six are driving an SUV each. It should be more than enough room for us to only have to take two or three trips.”
“You’re underestimating how much shit you have,” he mutters under his breath.
I chuckle and move him out of the way, gently nudging him until he’s leaning his hip against the counter on the side. It gives me room to get the fry pan on the stove and gather all the ingredients.
He moans when I get out the potatoes. “Are you making me hash browns?”
“I might be if you’re good.”
“I’ll be good.”
Doubtful, but we both know I’ll make them for him no matter what. “Did you have a good night with the lawyer?”
“You can use his name; it won’t summon him. He’s not Beetlejuice.”
“I’d rather not.”
“You liked him just fine when we were guarding him.”
“Did I?” That’s not how I remember it. Every time I hear that fucking stupid shark-baby song, it makes me think of him, and I can hear him humming it in my head. If he’d gone on much longer, I’d have punched him in the face and thrown his laptop out the window even if that meant breaking the glass to do it. Don’t think you’re supposed to do that to the person you’re protecting, but I’m not all that fond of rules. Especially not ones that tell me I can’t do harm to someone pissing me the fuck off.
“That might be a stretch, but…”
“But nothing,” I say flatly. Just because I don’t chuck the fit that I want to when he spends time with the lawyerdoesn’t mean I like the guy. Or even tolerate him. “He’s your friend, not mine. And I’ll continue being about as comfortable with it as you are with Henry.”
He stiffens, glaring at our coffee. “That’s different.”
“This I have to hear.” I glance over my shoulder at him while I flip the bacon and finish mixing the hash brown batter.
“Henry is single, and gay, remember? And you’re—” He gestures at me as if that explains at all what the hell he’s trying to say. I know him, but that doesn’t mean everything he says or does is completely coherent.
“I’m what?”
“You’re fucking hot, Ken. Only an idiot wouldn’t want you,” he says bluntly.
I don’t have a response to that.Spencerdoesn’t want me. Not the way he’s talking about. “We’ve already had this conversation. I wasn’t even aware that he was gay, so he clearly hasn’t made any overtures. Gay men are capable of being friends without sex or attraction being part of it.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t.”
I’m not sure he knows what he’s saying. Something’s on his mind, but it’s not coming out particularly coherent. After pouring three hash browns into the sizzling pan, I turn back to him. I need to see his face while we’re having this conversation. “Did something happen last night?”
His face hardens. Well, that hit the nail on the head. “No,” he says too quickly. “Like what?”
Like what, indeed. “DidSebastiansay something to you?”
