Page 61 of More than Need

Gideon watched them from his position in the kitchen, holding his mug against his bottom lip with his ankles crossed. Too bad he’d put a shirt on.

“No.” None of them had children, much to the disappointment of their mother, who struggled at times with her empty nest.

“So itisa chocolate love affair.”

“I thought it was a love story,” Gideon said.

“Same thing?”

“I think ‘affair’ implies some kind of tragedy.”

“Are you two done? My brothers enjoy hot chocolate, as does my mother, as do I—don’t make that face, it’s not that surprising—so I make sure I stock up.” He hoped they appreciated how difficult he found being vulnerable, and sharing personal information, and the effort he attempted to put in for them.

Dawson nudged him. “‘Likes hot chocolate’ wasn’t on my Riley bingo card.”

“I had Irish coffee.”

“Guinness.”

“You know,” Riley drawled, leaning forward to take Dawson’s mug out of his hands and placing it on his coffee table. “I like you better when your mouth is occupied. Or full.” He tugged Dawson into his lap, his heavy weight settling comfortable on Riley. He’d never been with anyone this much bigger than him. Another type of vulnerability he generally avoided. He liked theway Dawson felt on top of him, solid and hard. He smelled nice, too, woodsy with a hint of citrus.

“Yeah?” Dawson asked, smiling against his mouth. “Why don’t you show me how you like it?”

With pleasure.

Chapter 13

Two days later, Dawsonknocked on Gideon’s apartment door. He frowned at the weird noises coming from within.Noises,period. Gideon had guests? Dawson had spent the afternoon successfully dodging more of Sadie’s playful questions, with her none the wiser about his betrayal. A major miracle. He didn’t feel like dealing with a crowd after that. Had he messed up his days?

Something crashed, and then came a distinctly childlike-sounding laugh.

Gideon opened the door, eyes wide. “Dawson. Crud, I forgot you were coming.”

A tiny human peeked out from under Gideon’s arm. A miniature version of Gideon, all the way to the nose and those brown eyes. Had to be his son, Hudson.

“Hello,” Hudson said, flashing a toothy grin.

Gideon ruffled the boy’s head. “Dawson, this is my son, Hudson. Hudson, this is a friend of mine, Dawson.”

“Like mum’s friend Ned?”

The light in Gideon’s eyes dimmed a fraction. “Exactly like that, buddy.”

Hudson beamed, content with that explanation. “Cool. Do you like playdough?”

“I love playdough,” Dawson answered, sharing a look with Gideon. He hoped he’d answered right. Did Hudson like playdough, or were they team not-playdough? Dawson couldn’t remember the last time he’d been anywherenearplaydough. Not since he’d been a kid and had to be told multiple times that he couldn’t eat it. Why did it taste so good, then?

Hudson grabbed his hand and dragged him into the apartment. “Uh…” Dawson helplessly glanced behind himself at Gideon as he let himself be led to the small round kitchen table. It had been cleaned off, and a plastic table protector was draped over it. Tubs of playdough of varying sizes and cookie cutters were spread out. An impressive setup.

Gideon smiled ruefully and closed the front door. “Welcome to having children. I have some chicken stir-fry with egg noodles cooking for dinner, and Hudson has requested milkshakes. You want one?”

“What flavour?”

The bench looked like a crime scene, covered with the remnants of cooking dinner and a bunch of milkshake syrups, a tub of ice cream, a three-litre jug of milk, a Nestlé hot chocolate tin, sprinkles, a spray can of whipped cream, and a blender.

“Whatever flavour you want. Chocolate. Strawberry. Caramel. Bubble gum. Fairy floss. One that says mint, but I think whoever labelled it had no taste buds.”

“Does the bubble gum taste like actual gum?”

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