Page 89 of The Long Game

“It’s fine. We need something for breakfast and if Sam and I aren’t around, I figure you can’t burn the place down with this.”

“I can make breakfast,” Grady protested.

“Lucky Charms don’t count.”

“We can go out,” Grady said—just to be difficult and because he was oddly aroused to see Jack’s toaster in his house.

There had to be something seriously wrong with him.

Was the middle school lore true? Could he get brain damage from being horny all the time? He was finally allowed to touch Jack but there was never enough time or privacy. He was beingcockblocked by his goddamn chaotic life and he would have been mad about it if he wasn’t so fucking happy.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Hey, Colt,” he called, raising his voice to be heard over the TV, “if we have breakfast at the Dipsy Doodle Dangle Café tomorrow, what will you get?”

Colton sat up straight. “Oh! Oh! I’d start with the turbo mocha cinnamon dulce, maybe with an extra extra shot and extra whip, and a chocolate croissant and a bear claw, then I’d go for something lighter, like their blueberry battery charger and…”

While Colton ran down the sure-fire recipe for type two diabetes that also promised to rot his teeth and electrify his brain, Jack arched a smug eyebrow at Grady.

“Asshole,” Grady mouthed while making a mental note to ensure Colton ate something containing protein in the mornings.

Smirking, Jack went back to unpacking.

Grady leaned over and grabbed a giant green bowl-shaped spork from the box, brandishing it in the air. “Jack, you know I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t even know what this is. I was raised by idiots who thought cooking was woman’s work unless it was on a grill or over a campfire. So, unless you want a hot dog on a stick or a s’more, I’m useless.”

Jack chuckled. “First of all, that is a pasta spoon.”

“It looks like a back-scratcher.”

“It isnota back-scratcher,” Jack said.

“Or maybe some sort of chastity device,” he added, turning the spoon this way and that, as if trying to determine if it could cradle his balls.

Jack made a choking sound. “Donotmolest the kitchen utensils or it will become a spanker.”

Grady waggled his eyebrows. “You’re going to have to come up with a less compelling threat if you want to deter me.”

Jack shook his head, his cheeks going pink again.

Grady had to force himself to keep breathing. How was this even his life? Jack Chevalier was blushing in his kitchen and Grady wanted to howl at the moon he was so fucking happy.

When Jack opened one of the upper cabinets, Grady blinked at all the food inside.

When the hell hadthathappened?

Jack took down a box of spaghetti, pulled out a clump and put it through the hole in the spoon Grady still held aloft. “That’s one serving. You put it in boiling water, stirring occasionally for seven or so minutes, and then you can fish the noodles out with this instead of straining it.”

Grady blinked at Jack, then at the magic spoon. “You’re making that up.”

Sam giggled from the couch, entertained by his big brother being an idiot in the kitchen.

“I’m not kidding,” Jack assured him. “But don’t worry, Sam and I will cook dinner tonight. At some point, though, you and Colton are going to have to learn.”

“You don’t have to cook for us in the meantime, though,” Grady said.

“I think for everyone’s safety, I do.”

Grady rolled his eyes. “I think I can safely order takeout.”

“It’s a miracle you don’t have a repetitive stress injury from scrolling through menus.”

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