Page 90 of Outcast
“Gray? You in here?”
I hopped up and emerged from the office, hoping he wouldn’t want to go in. It reeked of sex, and Holden would hit the fucking ceiling. “Hey, man. Emory brought me dinner. We were just using your desk as a table.”
His forehead creased, but when Emory emerged with the Silver Spoon bag—repacked with our trash—he merely nodded. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Wanted to make sure Gray wasn’t working himself into a coma.”
“Bailey set him straight already,” Emory said.
“Did he?” Holden looked surprised. “I guess the kid is growing up.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You mean, he’s getting bossier. Like you.”
Holden cracked a grin. “I’m proud of him.”
“Sure, until he starts tellingyouwhat to do.”
Holden snorted. “I’d like to see him try.” He started to turn away, then paused. “Don’t have sex in my office.”
“Who, us?” I said.
Emory’s blue eyes looked big and innocent as he said, “We would never!”
Holden glanced between us, looking skeptical, then nodded. “All right. Have a good night.”
When he walked out, I turned a look on Emory. “Had no idea you could lie so well, golden boy. Do I need to watch out for you?”
“Me? You lied first! I would have confessed everything, but I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Uh-huh.” I took the bag from him, setting it on top of our cluttered worktable, and pressed him against the wall to nuzzle at his throat. “I think you’re a really good actor.”
“Me? No.”
I pressed tiny kisses up and down the creamy column of his throat. He shivered and craned his neck to the side, silently begging for more, even though we’d just had sex.
“I’ve never been a good boy,” Emory murmured. “Nobody knows the real me. That’s all.”
There was an odd vulnerability to the statement. Enough that I raised my eyes to meet his.
“I want to know that guy,” I said. “The real Emory Gold. Will you let me?”
He hesitated a beat. “You already know me better than almost anyone else. So, yeah, Gray. I want you to know me too.”
I kissed him again. “Good. Can I see you again this weekend?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I should be done with this god-awful job, and if I’m not, I’ll need you to console me.”
He stroked my thick scruff verging on beard. “You’ll be done, and I’ll congratulate you instead.”
I hoped he was right. My brothers were counting on me. I didn’t want to ever disappoint them again.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Emory
“Emory, nice to see you!”Brenda wiped her hands on her apron and approached the register where her son, Neal, was working. She hip-checked him out of the way without a word, and he happily took off for the back door. “You’re not ready to pay the bill already?”
“No. Marty texted me about running late, and I was hoping to add his order onto our ticket.” I waved toward the big round booth where Allison, Todd, and Sasha sat. “If that’s not too much problem?”
