Page 32 of Slew Foot
Tanner and Rafe tore into their food and Mickey followed suit at a more sedate pace. His meal was good though, fresh and bright tasting and from the happy noises the other guys were making, theirs was equally delicious.
When Rafe had finished his lunch down to the last crumb, he sighed and sat back. “You know what? I wish I had my knitting with me.”
“Your what now?” Tanner asked, looking up from his noodle soup.
“Knitting,” Rafe said with a shrug. “I knit.”
“Like scarves and hats and shit?” Tanner looked confused.
Rafe nodded. “I make blankets too. I made booties for my sister Brianna’s baby, when she had her.”
Mickey’s heart clenched, imagining those giant hands knitting something so small. Knitting anything, really.
“Huh,” he said.
Rafe glanced at him. “It’s, uh, relaxing.”
There was something defensive in his tone that made Mickey wonder how much shit he’d gotten from his teammates over the years about his hobby.
“No, I bet it is,” Mickey said hastily. “It seems very relaxing. It’s good to have hobbies.”
The tension in Rafe’s shoulders softened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I, uh, I like to bake.”
Tanner squinted at him. “You’ve never baked forme.”
“I only bake for people I like,” Mickey said blandly.
Tanner made a face and threw a balled-up napkin at his head. “Fuck you, dude.”
Rafe chuckled.
They spent the afternoon gaming and watching a movie. They finished it right before dinner time and Rafe sighed. “I should probably get going.”
“You could stay and eat dinner,” Tanner said with a shrug, scrolling through the options for something else to put on.
Rafe glanced between them. “You sure?”
Mickey shrugged. Why not? He could just as easily heat up some dinner for three as for two. They were the frozen diet plan approved meals they could get from the team chef which Mickey kept on hand for when he wasn’t feeling like ordering takeout or making one of the half a dozen dishes he could actually throw together.
Dinner turned into another movie and Rafe slid farther down on the couch, his knee bumping Mickey’s thigh every time he shifted. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s fine.”
Mickey had no clue what they were watching, too focused on the heat of Rafe’s body through his soft sweats, and he felt like he was boiling from the inside out with every brush of his knee …
But it was fine.
After a movie that Rafe and Tanner seemed to enjoy and Mickey couldn’t have told anyone what it was about if pressed, Rafe stood with a groan. He stretched, the hem of his T-shirt lifting enough to show off a slice of tanned skin and hard muscle. Below was the waistband of his underwear, which peeked up over his sweats.
Mickey let out a noisy breath and licked his lips before he realized what he was doing.
He glanced up at Rafe, but thankfully his eyes were shut as he yawned and Tanner had his face buried in his phone, probably planning to go out and hook up tonight.
“You want a ride?” Mickey asked Rafe. “Uh, back to your hotel.”
“Nah.” Rafe reached for his sweatshirt, which he’d taken off halfway through the first movie. Too warm, apparently. Not to torture Mickey, probably. Because although Mickeyfeltslightly tortured, he didn’t think Rafe was doing any of this on purpose.
