Page 29 of Winning You
“I promised to be Gage’s emotional support stuffed animal tonight,” Lucas said, and Frankie felt that weird pulse of jealousy in his sternum again. “He’s been through some shit, and he’s finally ready to talk. I hope. He keeps blowing me off, but—never mind. I’m rambling. Anyway, tomorrow night. You buy the groceries, and I will come show you how to fool your friends at parties about being an amazing cook.”
Frankie stood, extended his hand, then cleared his throat. “Shake on it?”
Lucas put his own hand out, and Frankie took it. His palms were soft—a few burn calluses, but it still felt so good against his own.
“Big hands,” Lucas murmured. His fingers traveled around Frankie’s, exploring for a moment.
“Family curse.”
“Family gift,” Lucas said. “Now, point me back to my truck and make sure I don’t fall on my face. I want to make sure I look pretty for you tomorrow.”
Frankie was absolutely not going to take that to mean, well, anything. Nothing at all.
Absolutely fucking not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCAS
When Lucas gotinto the car, Gage was oddly quiet. He did his usual little huffs and sighs, tapping on the steering wheel so Lucas would know he hadn’t fallen asleep while driving, but he didn’t say much.
“Am I getting the silent treatment, or are you trying to figure out a way to tell me you still don’t want to talk?”
Gage let out another small sigh. “I want to talk. I’m probably going to cry though, and you fucking know how much I hate crying. It always gives me a headache.”
Lucas’s stomach twisted. He’d known whatever Gage went through was bad, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. Maybe he should have. Christ, he could be the worst friend sometimes. His brain didn’t process things the same way other people’s did, and while he’d been living his whole life blind and did have his own system for understanding the world around him, there were moments sight would have been helpful.
He didn’t fully understand how, but he knew damn well that he would have been able to see that Gage was suffering where he couldn’t necessarily hear it or feel it.
“Let’s order pizza,” Lucas said quietly.
“Way ahead of you. I went to that Greek place over by Dallas and Kylen’s. I got hummus and pita, and fried zucchini with tzatziki, and a large pizza with olives.”
“You’re my favorite human being in the whole world,” Lucas said. And he meant that. He was yet again developing an annoying-as-fuck, pointless, inappropriate crush on the damn health inspector who was haunting his steps, but that didn’t change the fact that Gage was his person.
“I know,” Gage said, and with those words, Lucas knew he was smiling. So that was, at least, something.
The drive back to Lucas’s place was short, and together they managed to get all of Lucas’s crap, plus all the food in through the front doors and down the hall. He paused at his door, straining his ears, and he could hear the faint sound of kiddie show music playing.
“What is that?” Gage asked.
“Toddler a few doors down.” He didn’t want to explain to an edgy Gage that Frankie lived next to him. “She’s nice. Cute. Mostly quiet.”
Gage hummed, but he sounded very disinterested in talking about some random kid, which Lucas was grateful for. He unlocked the door and let Gage set everything up in the kitchen while he went to start his usual routine of a shower, sweats, and putting his hair up so the wet tendrils didn’t touch his neck.
Hot water rushed over his back as he stood under the spray, and he let out a long, heavy sigh as he thought back to his lunch with Frankie. The man was…different. Easily bossed around but stronger than most people Lucas knew.
His voice—rich and honey-thick and husky—lingered in Lucas’s mind. Just like the way his hand had felt when Lucas had taken it. His grip was strong but careful, his knuckles thick with just a faint bit of coarse hair across the top.
He wished he’d been able to feel the shape of his nails and the lines in his palm, but that would have been going too far. This was already starting to be a bit too much.
He ignored his erection as he finished washing up, and he let the cold air chill his naked skin until it flagged. By the time he was dressed and making his way to the kitchen, he felt a bit more like himself, just a little sexually repressed.
Which was nothing new.
“Where are you?” he asked, listening for Gage.
“Living room. I made a nest in front of the couch.”
