“The dog will be big enough for him to ride soon,” Johnson commented.
Yeah. Fully grown, Moose might weigh in around one-twenty. Better get him some obedience training soon, or he’d destroy the house.
The man responsible for this little surprise approached, his wide grin revealing The Dimple. No point in complaining once The Dimple appeared. If Lucky had his way, he’d make it a permanent fixture on his lover’s face. He almost flinched when Bo wrapped him in a hug—almost but not quite.
Everyone smiled. He’d have to get used to acceptance after so many years of hiding his and Bo’s relationship. Of course, these folks wouldn’t pop off at the mouth with any homophobic comments. They were family. Maybe not a God-given family, but one he’d chosen for himself. Or rather, they hadn’t taken no for an answer when they’d chosen him.
Even SNB receptionist Lisa and her husband, but only because they’d visited twice with no sneering yet. They were doing good so far, and if they kept up being sociable but not in his face about the whole friendship andfeelingsthing, they’d be considered second-cousins-once-removed in no time at all.
Lucky yanked Bo to his chest and hid his relief in the crook of his lover’s neck. Lover. His lover. And no more hiding from Walter or anyone else. “When did you end your case?”
“This morning. Even if I hadn’t, I would’ve managed to get here somehow. Can’t miss your birthday now, can I?”
Lucky kept squeezing until Bo pulled away. If not for a yard full of people, and possibly giving the neighbors an X-rated show, Lucky might be tempted to throw Bo on the picnic table and do everything he’d been dreaming about since their encounter in the alley.
The memory of being cuffed and at Bo’s mercy… Just wait until everyone went home.
“Wow! You’re awfully friendly.” Bo side-eyed their guests and turned his attention back to Lucky. “You mean you’re not pissed off because I invited folks over for a cookout for your birthday?”
“It ain’t my birthday.” No, not today. Everybody got birthdays—he’d take a whole week.Happy birthweek to me!Especially with Bo home to spoil him.
“Of course it’s not your birthday.” Walter ambled over. “That’s why we went through all this trouble. Any excuse for cake and ice cream.” This from a man who drank liquid doughnuts from a mug instead of coffee. He raised his hand.
Even though Lucky braced himself, Walter’s playful shoulder swat nearly knocked him off his feet. The man didn’t know his own strength.
Johnson flipped a burger, and the grill flared. She never even flinched. Did anything rile the woman?
Lisa waited off to the side, kid in her arms and husband at her back. She looked ready to run if Lucky turned into the asshole he used to be.
Was. Not used to be. She got a free pass for making friends with Bo. And the cute kid. Background checks hadn’t turned up anything on the husband.
Yet.
Mrs. Griggs came traipsing across the grass, wearing a loose dress and slip-on shoes that weren’t a far cry from her usual bathrobe and slippers. She’d accessorized with a black and white tuxedo cat, getting reacquainted with the traitorous feline who’d deserted her in favor of Lucky.
Leave it to Lucky to find a cat addled enough to prefer him over the woman who pampered every cat in the neighborhood silly.
She waved a cat-laden hand toward his house. “Sure you’re not gonna change your mind and move back into the duplex? The new tenants are awful. And they hate cats! What kind of rational human hates cats?” Her kissing Lucky Cat’s nose and cooing, “It’s okay, snookum. Mommy loves you,” didn’t exactly make her an expert on rational.
Mrs. Smith motioned from the picnic table. “Come. Sit. It’s time to eat.”
Johnson brought over a platter full of burgers. Two patties with bits of green and red showing sat off to themselves on a saucer. Veggie burgers. How could anyone…
Bo elbowed Lucky’s ribs. “They’re mine, not yours, so you don’t have to get grossed out. I won’t make you eat one.”
They must’ve been together too long if Bo read him so easily. Lucky attempted an innocent expression.
Bo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start nothing and there won’t be nothing. Snark and I’ll snark back.”
Bo did know him too well.
Johnson’s son hopped up to the picnic table. He couldn’t be more than six or seven. What was his name again?
“Tyrone, what you want to drink?” Johnson asked the boy. No, not Johnson. Out of work she wanted Lucky to call her Rett. He still struggled with the idea of having an actual friend and using her nickname.
Tyrone widened his eyes at the candles. “Whoa! That’s a lot of candles. How old are you?”
“Tyrone!” Loretta glared at her son. “You don’t ask people their age.”
