Page 48 of Doing Life

“Thanks, babe.” He breathed in deep. “Yum.”

“And if you have to, go full-on toddler and use your fingers.”

He hooted. “Thanks. I will.”

Sloan touched his hand. “I totally did when I was in the hospital. I had broken three fingers on my right hand holding— well, I broke them.”

“Shit, Sloan. You can tell me.”

“Trying to grab Radar’s collar.”

“Fuck.” He turned his hand to grab Sloan’s. “I’m sorry.”

“No. He was doing his job, and I was trying to keep him from doing it.” Sloan must have lifted his wine with his other hand, because he heard a sipping sound. “Okay, no more of that. Tell me how amazing my sauce is.”

Lance grabbed his fork, right by his plate where he expected it to be and spun up a bite. Which actually worked, because he got it to his mouth.

“Oh, my God,” he said around the bite. “So good.”

“Thank you. I’m glad.” Sloan set to eating too, fork clinking on his plate.

“Dude, is this homemade ranch?” Lance asked.

“Yeah. That recipe I got from Marla at the officehere.”

“It’s amazing.” He moaned at the garlic bread too. That was Texas toast from the store, he would bet. Sloan had never been a baker.

“Love it,” Lance said. “How bad do you miss Santa Fe?”

There was a long pause. “I love being here with you, Lance. And the work is similar. So I miss my house. And the mountains. I know you can’t really see them, but I want you to feel the air, smell the snow. Feel it on your face.”

“That sounds good.” He had no idea how much longer he had with Luke and the ranch, though. They wouldn’t sign off until he was safe, at the very least. Even if Sloan offered to be his primary.

“It is good,” Sloan agreed. “It’s not perfect. I know it. But it’s good.”

“Sort of like us, huh?” Lance found the wine glass and took a tentative sip, mainly because Sloan wanted him to try it, so much. He wasn’t a wine guy.

It surprised him to note the chianti was deep and velvety, and he found out that he liked it. For the most part, wine tasted like cough syrup. This was good—coating his tongue, and it went well with the pasta.

“Sort of like us, yeah. I have to create a new us now, but I don’t know…that sounded weird and stupid. Do you like the wine?”

Lance smiled and nodded. He got it, this was tough. “I do. It’s good. I’m surprised.”

He laid his hand out on the table, palm up. It seemed to take forever for anything to happen, his skin getting cold at the edges from the air conditioner. Then Sloan took his hand, squeezed his fingers.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can I spend the night?”

Chapter Thirteen

Sloan thought he might fall over dead right there. Man expires from happiness.

Boom.

He squeezed Lance’s hand. “Of course you can, honey. I would love that.” He loved it so much he could hardly breathe.

“Cool.” Lance said it so casual, but he had a death grip on Sloan’s hand. It had cost Lance to ask, but he was so damn glad the man had gone out on that limb.

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