Page 45 of State of Mind

The look in Luca’s eyes was nothing like Scott, though. It was soft, it was full of wonder, and of was hesitance. It calmed him and took away some of the trembling in his hands when he lifted them. ‘We should eat, yes?’

‘Yes.’ Luca looked almost relieved, and he quickly took the containers of food to plate everything, moving around Wilder’s kitchen like he’d been there a dozen times. He turned around, a small grin lifting the corners of his mouth, making him look young and a little unsure.

Wilder moved around him for water before leading him to the living room and easing down with his legs stretched under the coffee table. It was small, barely room for both of them, but it felt good to have Luca pressed against his side like he was always meant to be there.

“So, tell me,” Luca started, then froze.

It took Wilder a second to realize why Luca hesitated, then he shook his head. “There’s no background noise. I can hear you.”

Luca’s voice was muffled, but he could make out all the consonants and most of the vowels as he leaned in to finish what he was saying. “You can tell me if the food sucks. I promise it won’t hurt my feelings.”

Although Wilder had a feeling that was at least partially a lie, he nodded. “Trust me—my diet is bland. This does not look bland.” He wasn’t making that up, either. He ate a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables, but his proteins were always lacking when he had to forgo all salt. Even the low-sodium soy sauce was too much on most days, and he had never been very creative when it came to meals.

His baking—that was different. But he had resigned himself to a diet without any real pleasure. But now? He could smell the richness of it—the bite of wine, the mushrooms, the garlic. He took some onto his fork, then ate it, and his eyes shut with real pleasure.

It was good. He didn’t have to lie or placate. It lacked the sort of tongue-curling sharpness of salt that he missed and craved too often, but in place of that was a sort of richness that brought him something like comfort. “Wow.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Luca asked.

Wilder set his plate down and turned to face him. “Did you try it?”

At that, Luca scowled. “I always taste my food when I eat it. But it isn’t the recipe I’m used to. It’s not how I’m used to cooking. If I told my mom no salt and no parm, she’d cry. And this really isn’t as good as hers.”

Wilder grinned and shook his head. “I probably won’t get the chance to compare. Even on my good days, I have to be careful. So, in our world,” he reached over and laid his hand to Luca’s cheek, “this is the best risotto recipe ever made.”

Luca swallowed thickly. “So, eat it, then.”

Wilder laughed, and then he did. They kept the conversation small, easy—Luca told him about his day at Will’s ranch and how things had smoothed out between him and Dottie, which would have been hilarious and absurd if it wasn’t the absolute truth.

“I don’t think I did any good out there,” Luca said as he scraped the last of the food off his plate and set it down on the table. “I mean, he won’t be in a rush to hire me for, you know, farmhand stuff.”

Wilder laughed again. “Is that what you want to do?”

“God, no.” Luca swiped his hand over his mouth, then took Wilder’s empty plate and set it beside his own before pulling him up to the sofa. He shuffled Wilder toward him, draping his legs over his thighs so they were pressed together. It was a closeness Wilder had never experienced before—and one he didn’t want to let go of. Ever again. “They had barn kittens which were cute, but the litter boxes were disgusting. And the chickens would not leave me alone. I don’t think it was my, you know, thing.”

Wilder shook his head with a grin, letting his fingers play a pattern up Luca’s ribs. He liked to feel him jump when it tickled, and then push against him a little harder when it didn’t. “I’m not judging you. I grew up on a farm, and I am okay not spending a lot of time at one again.”

Luca grinned and shuffled them down a little before he reached out and brushed fingers through Wilder’s hair. It was so damn soft, so damn easy, it almost didn’t feel real. “What kind of farm animals did you have?”

“Chickens, mostly. My mom loved chickens. She had Frizzles and Silkies—and she had one rooster that was such a dickhead,” he groaned at the memory of how the little bastard would always escape his coop and always end up at his window to crow three hours before sunrise was due. “We had a huge field, and we grew pretty much everything we ate. There are days I can’t even look at a squash without wanting to gag.”

Luca grinned at him, then cupped his cheek and dragged his thumb under his right eye. “I’ve only ever seen squash at Trader Joe’s. I grew up on boxed pasta and canned tomatoes for sauce. Then Adriano got rich, and…things changed. I changed.”

Wilder watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he curled his fingers around Luca’s hand and pressed it tight to his face. “You deserve to be softer to yourself. You only knew one thing, and your brother dropped something on you that you weren’t prepared for.”

Luca scoffed. “What kind of asshole does it make me to say that my life got worse after I had money? I could have done something with it, you know? Something good.”

“You did,” Wilder said quietly.

Luca shook his head. “Something bigger. Something…not so myopic. I helped people who paid attention to me. It was entirely selfish.”

Wilder bowed his head. “Not everyone has to save the world, Luca.” He leaned in, and Luca met him halfway, and they were kissing again. It lacked the desperation from the kisses before, and it lacked some of the newness, but left all the want and desire and heat behind as Wilder felt himself get hard.

Luca tugged and pulled until Wilder was on him, almost too big to be straddling a man Luca’s size on his little loveseat, but he felt cocooned by Luca’s arms and the cushions that pressed against either side of him.

Wilder opened to the other man, pressing into his chest, digging fingers into his hair. He spread his thighs farther, let his dick rub up against the inside of his boxers as he gave tiny thrusts until it almost hurt. “God,” he said, tearing his mouth away.

Luca dragged blunt nails under his shirt, over each rib until he had both hands curled around his shoulders. “I want you.”

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