I wanted to tellsomeonethat he’dbeen wearing lace panties at the time, but that seemed like personalinformation. Ashley hadn’t been embarrassed, but it still wasn’t the kind ofthing I thought I should tell people.
He had to trust me. Thatincluded trusting me not to tell the world what he was wearing under his jeans.
And it didn’tmatter. If I toldLucas, it’dbe like mocking him. I’d been surprised, but it didn’t bother me. Ashley couldwear whatever the hell he wanted, he still deserved to feel safe.
Everyone did.
So why couldn’t I stopthinking about the goddamn lace panties?
Lucas:I’d ask if he washot, but you don’t care.
Snorting, I sat up on thebed and rolled my shoulders back with a soft groan.
You shouldn’t care either.We’re supposed to be professionals.
Saying that inthisparticular company was starting to sound stupid, but I was clinging to the lastfew shreds of professionalism we had left. Besides, now that Gray and Fox hadlong-term boyfriends they were in love with, they weren’t sleeping with anyotherclients.
And they were happy. Thatmattered more than anything.
Lucas:Still goteyes. Besides, I’m in the market for a nice American to marry. Might have to beyou depending on how this immigration thing works out.
I laughed. I could justpicture standing in front of a judge in a courtroom somewhere and promising tolove, honor, and obey Lucas while fighting to keep a straight face. Gray andFox would’vebeen there, maybe Doc would even have made the trip to come seethatparticular shitshow.
I love you too,asshole.
Talking to Lucashadmade me feel better. Not because he’d had anything useful to say, but because it’dreminded me that we were all flailing our way through this job.
I knew how to identify andrespond to a threat. That was what Ashley needed from me.
He didn’t need methinking about his ass.
Why was Idoingthat?
It was a nice ass. I couldadmit it was a nice ass. But I wasn’tinterested, and it wasn’t that shockingto me—I was aware of the concept of men wearing panties, even if I’d never seenit in person before.
What was it about his assthat kept bringing it back to my mind?
“Logan?” Ashley calledthrough the door, startling me out of yet another replay of the memory of himbending over, perfect butt on full display.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I was, umm. I was about tomake pasta for dinner and it’s no more effort to make enough for two. If you’rehungry?”
“Hell yes,” I replied as mystomach growled, protesting the fact that all I’d managed to put in it todaywas three cups of coffee and a protein bar. “Uh. I’ll come help.”
Ashley probably didn’t want to bealone, and I could worry about being overwhelmed later, when he was asleep. Fora client like this, making themfeelsafe was probably asimportant as actually keeping them safe, right?
“You don’t have to,” Ashleysaid, but I could hear him perking up at the idea.
When had I last made dinnerwith someone?
Had to have been with Doc,when we were all out in the field together. Camp kitchens and food out of acan.
Years. Literally years sinceI’dshared a kitchen, and I knew how comforting it was.
Maybe it’d be the same forAshley.
He was still hovering on theother side of the door when I opened it. With his face washed and not a traceof makeup left on it, he was almost a different person.
