Jimmy scrunched his brow. “No, why?”
Oh, yeah, ripe for Lucky’s lesson number one for new hires: He could kick their butts. “My sister can make up her own mind who she dates.” And she wouldn’t choose Jimmy. No way, no how.
Especially since Lucky had no intention of telling her about Salters’ infatuation.
“Then invite me over. Or better yet, give me her phone number and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Persistent cuss. Lucky stepped on the elevator with Jimmy, punched the button for the sixth floor, and stepped off. He grinned and waved as the door slid shut.
Whew. Laughter cut his reprieve short, the other trainees catching up to him. The moment the door slid open, he jumped on the elevator and forced the door closed. Would this day never end?
***
Lucky managed to crawl out of his Camaro on the third try and made his way halfway up the sidewalk. Damn. He turned back to the car for his computer bag. He really was getting too old for this shit, and no cars in the yard and a quiet house didn’t mean he wasn’t about to get dragged into more. Might as well check the mail too.
Bill, bill, bill. No card from his sister, since she now lived with him.
He stared at the house with longing. How he’d love to creep into his bedroom, take a hot shower, get a massage from Bo, have all the sex he could manage while being bone-weary tired, and fall into bed for a nice, long sleep.
From which he didn’t really care at the moment if he woke.
The best and worst things going for him these days were the people who loved him. Great to have someone watching his back, but they did god-awful things sometimes to show their love.
Like…
Lucky braced himself and unlocked the front door. Sometimes he regretted installing the doorbell camera—they could see his every move.
Slowly, slowly he opened the door.
“Surprise!”
Holy Fuck! He staggered back against the table by the door. How did this damned many people fit in his living room?
“Happy Birthday!”
Oh, God. They’d remembered.
Bo grinned, complete with the dimple Lucky loved far too much, and came at him, mouth first. Lucky struggled a moment and relaxed. Nobody here better give a happy damn if he kissed his man in his own house.
A party. Which meant at least two hours of pretending he liked people. Well, he liked most of these.
Bo winked and gave him another kiss. “I’m saving my gift for later.” Whoa! Was that a bit of scruff on his face? Lucky liked the rugged look. Of course, Bo looked good shaven, unshaven, in a suit, in biker leathers…
In nothing at all.
But “later”? Maybe Lucky could learn to tolerate birthdays, even if bacon didn’t seem to be involved this year.
“Happy Birthday, brother!” Charlotte grinned at him from the kitchen door. “There’s cake!”
There damned well better be for Lucky suffering this indignity.
“And presents,” his nephew chimed in. At sixteen, Ty wasn’t old enough for birthdays to make him feel ancient.
Thirty-nine. Thirty-nine fucking years old. Way too close to forty.
Too fucking old. He gave the room a quick once-over and let out a breath. Not a trainee in sight, in particular, no Jimmy.
Good.
