“Really?” Oh, dear God. Fantasies formed in Lucky’s mind. The fun they’d have.
“Really. Is that a problem?”
“Only if you do things you’re not comfortable with. Promise me you won’t do that.”
“I won’t.”
Lucky twisted and turned some more, sleep laughing at him and skipping out of reach.
Bo sat up in bed. “I know something that might help.”
“But the boys…”
“Shh… I wasn’t talking about sex. Roll over onto your stomach.”
“I thought you weren’t talking about sex,” Lucky quipped. What the hell was the man up to?
“Trust me.” Bo got up and strolled into the bathroom, returning a moment later. “You’re not on your stomach. Do I have to cuff you again to get you to accept a shoulder massage?”
Massage? Lucky did as told.
Bo climbed onto the bed and positioned himself over Lucky’s ass. The familiar pop of a bottle top broke the quiet. Bo kneaded Lucky’s shoulders. “Now, you’ve asked something of me, I’m going to ask something of you.”
Oh shit. “What?”
Bo dug his knuckles into a knot on Lucky’s back. Lucky let out a groan. “Stop trying to take care of everything. Tell me stuff and let me help.”
***
Being domestic had its bad side: cleaning all day Saturday and doing laundry, but on a positive note, Lucky no longer tripped over discarded shoes, always had clean clothes to wear, and got home-cooked meals.
Bo took the boys to run errands, and hopefully would bring back some kind of greasy fast food he normally didn’t allow in the house. Lucky had a sneaky feeling he’d engineered the time alone for Lucky to get his shit together.
At least while the boys were there Lucky got to eat more pizza. And bacon.
He sat on the back deck, Moose lying beside him, letting out a soft snore. Cat Lucky lounged on the railing, growling every now and then when the neighbor’s beagle came into sight through the missing slat in the privacy fence.
Vibration in his pocket sent him digging a hand in for his phone. Bo must have forgotten something. Unknown number? Nope, not answering.
The vibration stopped. No message popped up. Probably a telemarketer.
The phone rang again, same number. So much for having a day off. He answered, “Harrison,” and braced for someone trying to sell him something.
“Lucky? Oh, thank God!” The undeniable relief in the woman’s voice sent alarm bells clanging in Lucky’s head.
“Who is this?”
“Lisa. From work.”
“Lisa?” Why the hell would she call Lucky and not Bo? “What’s wrong?”
“Look, are you busy? Right now?”
“Not really.” Unless scratching his belly counted.
“Bo’s not around, is he?”
“No.”
