Page 13 of A Hard Sell

“Hmm.” Thomas looked at him steadily. “Ketchup and mustard?”

Luka examined the gleam in Thomas’ eye. He was a hard man to say no to. “Just mustard, please. Thank you.” A warm glow seeped through his bones, replacing the sharp pains under his bandages.

Luka’s gaze lingered on the black spandex again as Thomas disappeared into the crowd. It wasn’t fair how hot he was. Or sweet. The man was off getting him food, for God’s sake. Luka made a mental note to pick up lunch for Thomas one day this week, as a thank you. When he reappeared a few minutes later with two hot dogs, he handed one to Luka and sat next to him on the bench. Both had just mustard on them. Thomas bit into his.

“Thank you,” Luka said. “Turns out exfoliating with pavement works up quite an appetite.”

Thomas nodded and swallowed his bite. “I remember my dad patching me up every time I took a tumble off my bike… He’d always make me chocolate milk and peanut butter and crackers after. Then he’d tell me to be more careful, and I’d bail again in a day or two.”

“Me too!” Luka laughed. “My dad always liked to complain about all the bandages I was going through.”

Thomas smiled a little wistfully at his hot dog. “Mine did too…but he kept buying the expensive superhero ones.”

“Aw, that’s nice. He sounds like a good guy.”

There was a pause as Thomas was lost in a memory for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “The best.” They finished their food in thoughtful silence, the crystal blue sky stretching on endlessly above, the chatter of the crowd fading as people started heading home.

Luka and Thomas went back to help Finn tidy up when they were done. Thomas got to work collapsing the tent with Rory, while Luka began collecting trash.

“Wanna grab a beer?” Finn asked as they tossed the last of the water bottles into the recycling. “I need some nachos or something.”

“Sorry,” Luka said. He hurt everywhere now, the injuries blending in with an overall baseline ache. “I’m gonna go home and lick my wounds…metaphorically speaking.”

“Need a ride, babe?” Tawney asked as she shouldered her bag.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He looked around at the stragglers to express his gratitude to Thomas again for all this help, but he spotted him in the distance on the other side of the park helping Rory load the tent into Finn’s truck. He’d have to wait for work tomorrow.

The first thing he did at home was heave himself into a hot bath, then he spent the rest of the day on the couch, bingingThe Great British Bake Offand eating chips. This was more his style.

He did remember to thank Thomas again first thing Monday, but otherwise the rest of his thoughts were consumed by feeling quite sorry for himself for the pain he was in.

And if Luka had thought he was sore Monday, Tuesday was an entirely new plain of excruciating existence. His knee and elbow felt much better, but every other muscle screamed at him, raging against the colossally poor decision he had made on Sunday.

Luka moaned as he fell into his desk chair, doing his best not to bend his legs at all.

Thomas looked over and offered a sympathetic smile. “Day two is always the worst. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Ibuprofen helps.”

“There is not enough ibuprofen in the world,” Luka mumbled. “It hurts to breathe.”

“Maybe some gentle stretching?”

“Can I stretch without getting out of my chair? Or moving at all?”

Thomas hummed. “At least you raised a lot of money for cancer research.”

Luka nodded, feeling the pull in his neck. “You’re right. Worth it.” Then he thought about Thomas’ hand on his shoulder. That part of it had been good, too.

Chapter Five

Open Table

“Moreno!” Finn barged into Luka’s office at 5:01 on Friday, shrugging on his jacket. “It’s quitting time.”

Luka didn’t look up, in the middle of madly scribbling notes in the margins of the latest analytics. “I just have to—”

“Nope!” Finn snatched the papers out from under his pencil and held them aloft. “Everyone’s going for drinks.”

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