“My sister’s cooking, are you kidding me?”
Tenner rolled his eyes. “I’ve eaten at Pat and Desi’s house many times. If it’s not her cooking, it’s his, and they’re both fantastic.”
Ross cracked his gum again. “You got me. I was both lying and stereotyping. Are you going to use that as an excuse not to invite me to your house?”
“I’m not looking for an excuse not to invite you over!” Tenner exploded, and Ross’s grin was wider than Bugs Bunny’s ever was.
“Good! Let’s get crackin’, hoss—your kid’s gonna eat her shoes if we don’t get a move on.”
And with that, Ross swung his way over to where Piper waited patiently for her father. “Okay, sweetheart, you gotta be honest with me. Is there dessert with this mac and cheese, because if there’s not, I can pick us up some on the way there.”
“Ice cream!” Piper squealed excitedly. “Daddy got us ice cream and fresh strawberries, and I get to mash up the berries and add the sugar and it’s going to be amazing!”
Ross glanced over his shoulder at Tenner and winked. “Did you hear that, Ten? It’s gonna be amazing!”
Tenner shook his head and rolled his eyes. It was going to be a disaster. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to date again. He watched Ross’s long legs eating up ground, his tight athlete’s body moving with that sinuous hidden power that Tenner had felt when Ross was pounding away in his ass.
A disaster, he repeated to himself. A hard-fucking, tender-kissing, sweet-touching considerate and amazing disaster.
His heart was speeding up already.
Amazing Disaster
ROSS WOULD have taken that kid to Disneyland for the invite, but she’d walked into it because she apparently liked his smile.
He was good with that. Pat and Desi’s kids adored him. He smiled a lot, played games, took them places—he had lots of years being the fun uncle—and Ross wasn’t going to mess with that now.
He followed Tenner to his house, not because he doubted the address—and he could definitely get it from Pat if he got lost—but because he wanted Tenner to see that he meant what he’d said. He was there for a modest dinner of mac and cheese, and he wasn’t going to let that little girl down even if, as far as she knew, he was just a new and interesting friend.
He had the yellow shirt in his hand and a duffel over his shoulder, containing cargo shorts and a T-shirt, when he knocked on the door.
“Don’t let the cat out, Daddy!” Piper called, and Tenner grimaced apologetically.
“Joe—no!” Tenner opened the door and scooped up a cat nearly as large as his daughter, holding the indignant furry black thing looped over his arm like a furious dishtowel. “Hurry in, man. Sorry about the cat. He likes to greet people he doesn’t know.”
Ross grinned and dropped his duffel so he could hold out his hands. “Okay, so hand him over. If he likes to greet people, I’m here to be greeted. Hello, Joe.”
He held Joe up to face level and wrinkled his nose, inviting the cat for a whisker rub. Joe took the bait, rubbing his handsome white whiskers against Ross’s nose again and again, until Ross cuddled him up against his chest.
“Joe?” Ross asked, checking out Joe’s one white sock and white whiskers.
“As in Shoeless,” Tenner explained, pointing to the sock. “How else do you explain the one white foot.”
Ross snorted and kept loving until the cat was practically comatose with happiness. He grinned. “That’s a kitty. You’re a big furry pushover, you are.” He winked at Tenner. “I think he likes me.”
Tenner’s expression remained unimpressed. “He probably thinks you have food.”
“Me? Naw. I’m charming. Face it. I just charmed the whiskers off your kitty here. I’m a genius.”
“Why are you here?” Tenner asked, his eyes darting behind him, probably checking for his daughter. “With clothes!”
Oh, yeah—that probably looked presumptuous. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. I was going to change out of my baseball clothes.” Ross gestured to Tenner, who had probably changed as soon as he walked through the door. “Like you did.”
Tenner’s expression softened. “That’s fine. The downstairs bathroom is down the hall by the staircase.”
Ross took an assessing look around, liking the dark hardwood floors and the light coming in from skylights in the vaulted living room ceiling. “Nice digs! Three bedrooms? That’s sweet. Pat’s place is in this same neighborhood, but, like, way bigger. Pat’s got the mansion on the hill, you know?”
“Pat’s got a law degree and an MBA,” Tenner said dryly. “Pat can afford the mansion on the hill.”
Ross winked at him. “Yeah. My sister caught herself a good one, but the McMansion isn’t everything.”
“I’ll settle for my McCottage,” Tenner said, pursing his lips. “And I’d better go start the McFeast. Would you like some salad with your mac and cheese with hot dogs?”
“The luxury never ends,” Ross said, chuckling at his own joke. “Be out in a sec.”
Once he’d changed, he set his duffel down by the door and sauntered into the kitchen. On his way, he passed Piper, coloring quietly on the couch, Joe purring on her lap, SpongeBob on for background noise. She gave Ross an absent smile and wave, but was so obviously content, Ross returned the gesture without a word. When he got into the kitchen, water was set to boil and Tenner was pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.
“Here,” Ross said. “Hand me the lettuce and carrots. I mean, if you’re going to spoil me with greens, I might as well help.”
Tenner pulled out of the fridge long enough to do exactly that, asking, “Beer?”
“Domestic or imported?”
Tenner wrinkled his nose. “Does it matter?”
And Ross had to laugh. “Only when it’s noteworthy. Like, if you’re a beer connoisseur or something. I could ask for a beer, and you’d go, ‘Here, have a Reeking Fish—it’s apparently brewed with real tuna!’ And I’d be like, ‘I’d rather drink warm Michelob, thank you,’ and then we’d never speak again. But if you have standard beers, microbrewery that doesn’t suck, or regular old domestic, then it’s just a beer.”
And finally—finally—he got a laugh out of the guy. “Fat Tire. It’s supposed to be microbrew, but it’s practically old-school in Folsom.”
Ross felt a happy feeling start at his toes. “Pale ale? Lager? Dark? Never mind. I don’t care. Surprise me. It’s all good.”
“Oh my God, you’re easy,” Tenner said, handing him something blond.
“I thought we’d already established that Friday night,” Ross said, and he was unprepared for the utter look of shutdown and shame crossing Tenner’s face.
“About Friday night…,” he said, dropping his voice, and Ross held out a hand.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he said kindly. Poor Tenner. He looked like a kid who’d been caught peeing in the bushes—not only embarrassed but ashamed. “I get it. It wasn’t your usual MO. Not mine, either, to be honest, but don’t worry. We can pretend it didn’t happen until you’re ready for it to happen again.”