Page 158 of Men in Shorts

“Of course.” He pulled back to arm’s length and glanced down at Liam’s dark-green tracksuit bottoms. “What’ve you got planned, a strip tease?”

“There’s nae challenge in holding your attention to that.” Liam stepped away, into the kitchen. “I’m gonnae make food for our tea, and then we’ll watch some telly.”

Robert was confused. “And?”

“And you’ll ignore your phone the entire evening.”

“Ah.” Robert did have a nasty habit of checking for messages while sitting in front of the TV. But his primary funder was going to write back with a time and date for that meeting…

“This way there’s no, ‘Liam, what did they just say?’ or ‘Liam, rewind so I can see that bit again. I missed it cos I’m sooooo important.’”

Robert’s neck tingled with shame. “I’m not important.” He went to Liam and touched his arm. “You are.”

“Well, of course I am.” Liam nudged him aside in the cramped kitchen. He opened the fridge and bent over to stick his head in. “Cheesy toast and beans okay?” he asked, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “Orrrrrbetter yet, cheesy beans and toast!”

“Either sounds grand.” He considered offering to order a curry, but Liam’s pride would be hurt if Robert provided for them all the time. Besides, the man could make a miracle of toast and beans.

While Liam cooked, they talked pro football, not just Scottish but every major European league. As January was transfer season, there was no end to rumors and breaking news about which players were going where and who was raging about it.

“These transfers are gonnae wreak havoc with my fantasy Premier League team,” Robert said. “I could lose some of my best players.”

“Fantasy leagues take all the joy out of sport,” Liam said, as Robert knew he’d do. “A team’s not a team anymore—they’re just a collection of individuals, and every match is a collection of stats.”

“I know, but I like it, and I’m good at it.” Robert realized with a start that he’d not set his fantasy squads for tomorrow’s matches. He’d tumbled down the ranks recently, when his preoccupation with work had stopped him keeping up with the tsunami of holiday fixtures.

By instinct he pulled out his phone to bring up the fantasy-football app.

A tea towel flicked his hand. “Put that away!”

“Ow.” Robert obeyed, setting the phone screen-side down on the table. “It wasn’t for work.”

“I don’t care. You promised. And listen to me, sounding a wee wifey nipping your head for it. Don’t make me do that.”

“Can I at least set a reminder for tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Liam opened a drawer, pulled out a stack of sticky notes, and tossed them onto the table. “Old-school style.”

Robert wroteFFon the top note, then got up to adhere it to the kettle so he’d see it in the morning. “I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on Liam’s back.

“You’llbesorry.” Liam bumped his hip against Robert’s. “When I punish you.”

Robert uttered a needy growl. “Ohhhh. Tonight?”

“Nah, tomorrow. Give you time to think about it.” He angled a glance through his lashes. “And give me time to procure what I need for you.”

“Can’t wait.” Robert let his hand drop to the hem of Liam’s shirt, which rested atop the curve of his arse. Then he slipped it up underneath to skate his fingertips over the warm skin of Liam’s back.

“You can wait, and you will.” Liam turned to him, then gently took Robert’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged. “But not for everything.”

Their kiss was warm and deep, and for a few moments it became Robert’s entire world.

“Mmph.” Liam pulled away and turned to the hob. “I smell a light char. That’s our dinner ready.” He patted Robert’s arse. “Out of these jeans and into some trackpants. You’re overdressed for a night in.”

Robert took a step toward the kitchen door, then automatically reached for his phone on the table. A warning glare from Liam stopped him.

After he changed into more comfortable clothes, Robert went to Liam’s bedroom window to check the weather. He lifted the blinds, taking care not to get them stuck in a raised position.

Outside, the rain that had threatened earlier seemed to have changed its mind. The road’s uneven tarmac was still dry, and the pedestrians were huddling against only the wind.

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