“Sure.” Lucky blocked the only way out from behind the bar.
Since Damon didn’t want to move, he didn’t call Lucky on it. “Is everything else going okay?”
Lucky clasped his hands together—like trying to find something to do with them. “Yeah. It’s just that I’ve been taking some cooking classes at night. No reason. Just bored, I guess. Anyhow, I bought of bunch of shit to make Beef Wellington. No idea if it’ll turn out okay, but I’d like to give it a shot. Would you like to be my tasting victim?”
A smile tugged at Damon’s lips. He could tell this was more important than Lucky let on. Likely, he didn’t want anyone to call him on it if he wasn’t good enough or quit, so he pretended the classes were for kicks. Damon got it. He usually handled his own aspirations the same way. “Yeah. Just let me know when.”
Lucky beamed. “Tonight, if you’re free.”
Damon was always free. “Yep. I’ll be there, or here. Whatever.”
“Okay.” Lucky twisted his fingers. “I’ll let you get to work. Thank you for the coffee and the lesson. I look forward to tonight.”
Damon didn’t think he had ever seen Lucky nervous before. His unease made Damon question himself—like, was this a date? He hadn’t thought it was a date until Lucky started acting all skittish and whatnot. Now Damon wondered if he’d read things wrong. Goddamn it. He wanted it to be a date.
“I’ll just... be in my office.”
They did a bit of foot shuffle where they tried to pass each other without touching while also trying to decide which way to go. Finally, Damon snagged Lucky’s hips and physically shifted him to one side so he could pass. He didn’t make eye contact. Touching was already too much. He didn’t draw another full breath until he was alone in his office. Fuck his life. What had he done?
Two months. Exactly sixty-one days had passed since Lucky officially moved into the apartment above the bar. Every one of those had been hell. They were torture when Damon was around and even worse when he wasn’t. Lucky had never met anyone he couldn’t have, even if he never got to keep them. He didn’t think he could have Damon. Not even temporarily. For the first time in his life, Lucky didn’t want to screw up something wonderful. His fate always rested in the hands of someone he slept with. This one time, he didn’t have an ax hanging over his head. He was in charge of his life. If he made a move on Damon, that would change. That was why Lucky had started taking cooking classes with Zep two nights a week. He didn’t mind working at the bar. The job kept him busy and in shape. Like learning about fixing the tap, Lucky wanted to know everything about everything so he would have some skills to take elsewhere. He didn’t want to rely on Damon forever. Lucky couldn’t get tossed in the street with nothing but his clothes again. He needed his own money. It killed him inside, but his acting gigs had completely dried up. Even though he still had feelers out for modeling gigs, he couldn’t give up a steady paycheck for a temporary one. Lucky had a bad feeling that part of his life was done.
He eyed his surroundings as the clock crept closer to noon and the place slowly filled. On the flip side of losing his dream career, Lucky had fallen in love with this bar and its regulars. The place was always packed this time of day, and that was without them serving food. They had a few snacks and that was it. People simply gravitated here—like drawn by a need to be closer to their chosen family. While Lucky had frequented this place before working here, he hadn’t gotten to know anyone beyond Damon, and he hadn’t come here on purpose. Damon had been taking out the trash when Lucky’s boyfriend at the time had pushed him from a moving car. Lucky had pretty literally landed on the doorstep of Road Clan. The only reason Lucky ever returned was for Damon. Now he realized how much he had been missing by not getting to know these guys. They were a rugged group of tattooed miscreants and some of the best people he had ever met. There were a few assholes mixed in, but it was like that everywhere. Lucky was content. That was a lot better than he had been in a long time.
The door opened and the place fell silent. A slim, dark-haired, and perfectly styled dream walked in. Every eye followed the man as he headed Lucky’s way. The place was quiet enough to hear a squirrel fart. Lucky could have met Kit halfway and brought the crowd’s confusion to an end about why such a perfect specimen would grace this place. But Lucky enjoyed Kit’s confidence. Kit was completely unruffled by the attention. In fact, Lucky got the feeling Kit relished every step in Lucky’s direction. His suspicions were confirmed when Kit tucked an imaginary stray hair behind his ear only to have his oversized sweatshirt slide down his arm afterward, exposing his shoulder. He looked adorably out of place—like a babe lost in the woods. It was an act, of course. Despite Kit’s tiny size and demure demeanor, he would eat all these men for breakfast.
By the time Kit finally reached Lucky, his sweet brown eyes flashed with silent laughter. He knew Lucky knew his game. Sound burst to life again, as if everyone simultaneously decided it made sense Kit would be there for Lucky.
Lucky snorted as he circled the bar and hugged Kit. “Hey, babe. What brings you by?”
Kit hugged him back for real—like a genuine friend. “I have news I wanted to deliver in person.”
Like that, Lucky’s stomach balled tight with anticipation. “Really?” Hope rose in his chest.
Kit nodded. “I got hired for a threefold spread where I spend the day working through several poses for three separate magazines owned by the same company. They want couple shots and they said I could pick whoever I want to pose with me, as long as he’s hot. I want you.”
Lucky tried not to explode from the excitement. “Really?”
Kit’s smile dimmed. “There’s a catch. A few catches, actually.”
Lucky’s mood dampened a hair. “Such as?”
Kit pulled a face, but not too much since pulling faces wrinkled the skin. “The shoot is in San Fran, so we’d have to stay the night, and they’re not comping rooms.”
“That’s no big deal. We could share and split the cost.”
Kit didn’t stop semi-wincing. “We’d also be nude. Together. And fully aroused.”
Oh. It was like that.
Kit’s expression cleared when Lucky didn’t respond. “It’s three different high-end magazines with us as the feature couple. The pay is seventy-five thousand. We split fifty-fifty.”
Lucky covered his mouth. He would have a cushion. That meant he could go after Damon without fearing the worst.
“Would you like to dance?”
Kit blinked at the sudden interruption and the huge bear-like biker who was more tattoo than skin. His gaze skimmed the room, obviously noting there was no dance floor or music. Kit met Zep’s stare. “Oh. Sweetie.”
“I’ll go sit down.”
Kit patted Zep’s forearm. “That’s probably best.” The moment they were alone again, Kit met Lucky’s gaze as if nothing happened. “Anyhow, all you have to do is say yes and leave with me Saturday and the job is yours.”
“Yes.” Lucky answered before he thought about Damon. “If I can get off work, of course.”
“Oh. Sweetie.” Kit sounded exactly the way he had seconds ago with Zep.