Small. Blond. Handsome. Right up Johnson’s alley.
“So, what you got?” Lucky pushed his papers toward Bo, though the procedures were a last-minute formality. They’d pretty much decided the outcome of this audit days ago.
Bo swept a hand out, indicating the building. “Nothing. This place is squeaky clean. Loretta, have you found anything?”
“Other than the leaky water fountain during our walkthrough, nada. It took maintenance all of five minutes to fix the problem. Lucky?” She swiveled her gaze his way.
“Boss Man won’t let me ding a company down for shitty coffee.” He’d tried. “Many more businesses like this one and we’d be out of a job.” He finished the last drop of the a-lot-less-than-Starbucks-quality-but-still-drinkable brew.
Bo glanced from Lucky to Johnson and back again. “Then I say we get this report printed up and call it a day. Agreed?”
Lucky and Johnson spoke in unison, “Agreed.”
Well, what did you know? Lucky, agreeing with people. Much more of that and he’d lose his sonofabitch reputation.
“I’ll go find Chastain.” Johnson shot out of the room before anyone could stop her. Yeah, he bet she would.
“What’s this thing she’s got for short, blond-haired, blue-eyed men?” Bo asked.
“You’ve got one in your bed, you tell me.” Lucky leered and tried to waggle his brows. Damned things refused to move independently.
“She can’t have mine,” Bo muttered, attention riveted on his iPad. “Though I never quite understood her fascination with Phillip Eustace. At least you and Chastain have some backbone to you. I doubt Phillip’s made a decision on his own in his life.”
The yes man squeaked into the SNB two steps behind O’Donoghue and stood in the man’s shadow ever since. What did Johnson see in the little lapdog?
Lucky observed Bo some more and shifted a bit in his chair to give his rising erection room to grow. Bo, the one who’d talked him into staying with the SNB long after he’d done his time. Who’d gotten him off caffeine, gave him so much to look forward to.
A home. With him. Maybe one day Lucky’d talk him into getting married.
Small tendrils of guilt crept inside his mind. He still hadn’t told Bo about Charlotte offering to carry a kid for them.
The day they’d met Lucky would have run screaming if anyone suggested he’d be happily domesticated.
Now, Bo’d become the best part of life.
He’d open a can of redneck whoop-ass on any bastard who dared try to steal his happiness.
***
Keeping his mouth shut about Walter took every bit of Lucky’s self-control. Grilling outside meant he didn’t have to face Bo with the nephews around. Armed with a spatula, standing guard over grilling chicken—and not-actual-chicken, in Bo’s case—meant he didn’t have to interact. Bo knew him too well. Read him too well.
Avoidance was the only way to keep from spilling his guts.
Todd brought plates and cups to the picnic table. So helpful. The moment he placed his burdens on the table he scratched Moose’s ear and darted toward the house, the dog bounding after him. How had the Lucklighters managed to produce a rule-follower and non-troublemaker?
Speaking of stereotypical Lucklighters…
Lucky glanced into the living room through the sliding glass doors to where Ty sat on the couch, pretending to read a text book while playing a video game on his phone, doing his best to exist in a lame world full of idiots who didn’t understand him.
Lucky shook his head. He loved his nephews, but Ty didn’t make it easy.
Ty perked up when Bo entered the room and, wonder of all wonders, he darted into the kitchen and emerged through the sliding glass doors a few seconds later, loaded down with bowls.
Lucky never felt so out of his element as he had since his sister dropped off her sons. What could he say or do to make things better? Lucky spent his whole life in one house until he left of his own free will, and most of his friends had left the area too.
Ty knew nothing but the same house, same town, since he’d been a few months old when Charlotte had moved to Spokane to escape an abusive asshole.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “How’s the chicken coming along?”
