Lucky drummed the fingers of one hand against the tabletop. Yow! Damn it!Heal, motherfucker, heal!He recovered enough to tug at his uncomfortable collar with the other hand. God, but he hated dressing up. For such a special occasion, he’d make an exception.
Even one-handed.
He checked his phone for the umpteenth time. No messages from Bo, but about one thousand smiling emotis from Johnson. Yep, he’d never hear the end of her gloating.“Told you that shit worked!”
Johnson’s thermos ought to have a warning label.
Of course. Charlotte told her.
He planned to retaliate by telling everyone who’d listen that Rett knocked up his sister.
Five more minutes passed. Surely he’d given Bo the right address. Yes, his text contained the right time and place.“Luigi’s at seven.”His cellphone showed six forty-five. Still no Bo.
How was Bo to know Lucky’s nerves put him on edge, prompting him to arrive a half-hour early? To fill in the time, he practiced what to say. “Bo, I’ve got some great news!” Nope, too lame. Maybe he should ease the tension with a joke. “Man, you are not gonna believe this…”
He’d threatened Rett with bodily harm if she breathed a word to Bo before Lucky got the chance. Rett and Charlotte’s friendship meant no more secrets for Lucky.
The agitated waiter stopped by again. “Sir, are you sure I couldn’t interest you in an appetizer or drink?”
Yeah, a good stiff shot of whiskey. But no, better to keep a clear head, and sucking down a glass of sweet tea wouldn’t get him into Bo’s good graces. “What you got that’s caffeine free, and no alcohol? Oh, and no sugar.”
The waiter raised a mocking eyebrow. “Water?”
Lucky lifted the glass he’d refilled twice since arriving. “Got it covered. He’ll be here in a few minutes, I promise.” He perused the crowded dining room. Oh. The restaurant wanted the table.
Bo swept through the door, glancing right and left. His dark-eyed gaze fell on Lucky. He smiled and wove his way through the tables back to Lucky.
Lucky gave the waiter a triumphant grin. “Told ya. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go fetch another water?” Bo might make him apologize if he heard, but the way the waiter scowled made up for any chastising Bo could offer.
Bo stopped smiling and ran an exaggerated appraisal up and down Lucky’s body. “Damn, but you clean up nice. What’s the occasion?”
Lucky stared up at Bo’s hopeful face and words dried up on his tongue. He’d lost his suit coat and tie, white button-down rolled up to the elbows and the top two buttons undone, showing a teasing peek of dark chest hair.
Damn, what a gorgeous man. And all Lucky’s.
“Lucky?” Bo prompted, taking a seat across the table.
The waiter returned, at the worst possible moment. Lucky fought a snarl, but earning a swat on the nose from Bo might ruin the mood.
“Could you give us a moment?” Bo asked, with an ice-melting drawl.
The moment the waiter left Bo reached across the table and clasped Lucky’s hand “What is it? You look like you’re about to pass out. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your consulting. You haven’t changed your mind about Andro, have you?”
“No! Of course not!” Words had never been Lucky’s friends, neither had his non-existent brain-to-mouth filter. He opened his mouth and out fell, “Charlotte’s pregnant.”
Bo released Lucky’s hands and leaned back in his chair. “She’s what?”
Lucky recovered a few of his senses. “She’s pregnant. About a month.”
With a carefully guarded expression, Bo ventured, “She’s sure.”
Lucky nodded. “Yeah. Showed me one of those stick thingies and everything.”
“I see.” Bo rubbed his chin. “And how do you feel about that? I mean, we’ll already have Alejandro.”
What? Bo wasn’t doing happy dances? Lucky’s heart sank to his stomach, shoving out any appetite he’d had for the fine dinner he’d spend way too much on. Should he lie? What did Bo want him to say? Bo also urged him to be honest. “We have two laps, one for each kid.”
A twitch started at the edge of Bo’s lips, spreading across his face in a possum-eating-briars grin. “Really? You’re okay with this?”
