Page 58 of Hot Doggin'
“Come on,” Brandt says, pushing to his feet. “Let’s get this place cleaned up. Then we’ll head over to Denny’s. I’m starving and if I’m awake this early, I want pancakes.”
“I want crêpes,” Rhett seconds.
“Waffles,” Nash adds.
“Fuck this mess. Let’s just move back to my place,” I tell McCormick.
He laughs, and I know he agrees. He’s as lazy as I am.
By the time we clean up, finish breakfast, and are back home in our bed together, the sun is bright outside of our window. Mac draped a quilt over it to hide the light. He’s curled up in my arms, my lips pressed against his warm skin, peppering kisses over his shoulders. “I wanted to do this in the kitchen.”
“We need to tell them, eventually. We can’t hide forever.”
That thought makes my balls kind of shrivel up. “You ready for that?”
“I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be ready for that. We just need to rip the bandage off and do it.”
“You’re right. Let’s do it. Next month.” Predictably, he laughs. McCormick turns in my arms so that he’s facing me. And what he says next shocks the shit out of me.
“We should look for a bigger place. If we pool our money, we could get a nice place with some land, like Rhett and Riggs have or like West and Brandt’s place.”
The urge to grin like a fool is strong. He’s not asking me to move back to my own apartment. He's proposing we buy a placetogether. Not someplace that’s his or mine, butours. “What am I gonna do with land?”
“I don’t know, look at it?”
“That’s it? Look at it?”
McCormick shrugs. “Impress people when they come over?”
“Who the fuck comes over besides you?”
He grins, and I’m dying to kiss it right off his lips.
“Then, you can impress me. I want land.”
“Fine, we’ll start looking today. You can have all the land my broke ass can afford so you can impress the people that don’t come over.”
“Maybe they would, if we have land. A nice deck with a barbecue grill and one of those sexy hot tubs.”
“They’re sexy?”
“They can be,” he laughs, arching his brows.
“In that case, I hope nobody comes over.”
“One hundred percent.”
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
MCCORMICK
As we approachthe for sale sign, I slow my bike to a crawl. Stiles shakes his head. This isn’t the one. In fact, it’s the fifth house today he’s rejected. But I have to agree with him, none of them feel right.
We roll on in search of the next one. For the last two days, we’ve been running down leads on available houses from ALR brethren, Brewer and Mandy, and my own Internet sleuthing.
Maybe it’s time we hire a realtor. This morning we got pre-approved from our bank for a VA loan, and I checked our credit scores. We’re all set to buy our first home.
