What Chris Wants
Page 12
Everyone in the salon watched him go, their expressions rife with curiosity.
Especially when he started grinning.
Finally he’d be able to get a clear-cut answer from Chris. He only hoped it’d be the right answer, because he loved Chris. He wanted a life with him.
And he seriously never again wanted Dare or Trace to feel the need to visit his salon.
* * *
As he did at the beginning of each month, Chris went through the house, filling all the printers with ink and paper, putting fresh toiletries in all the bathrooms, replacing old magazines with new, checking batteries in the smoke detectors and bulbs in all the lamps. He left Dare’s routine messages on his desk, with a calendar of upcoming appointments. Anything important was processed as it came in.
Like the file Trace had requested, which Chris had handed over that morning.
The hall clock showed it to be a few minutes before six. Finished for the day, Chris detoured through the house to the backyard, where Dare stood at the grill turning ribs. Shirtless and in trunks, Spencer talked softly to Trace, who wore an unbuttoned shirt over khakis while he pored over papers opened on the patio table.
Dressed in a rainbow hue of summer colors, Molly, Priss and Arizona clustered on lounge chairs. They had their bare feet up, cool drinks in their hands as they talked quietly.
Sargie and Tai noticed Chris first, drawing the attention of the others. One by one, they turned to stare at him.
“What?” He looked down. “Did my shorts turn transparent?”
Folding his papers, Trace straightened. “Alani and Jackson aren’t coming over. Jackson said the baby kept him up last night.”
“Selfish bastard,” Chris said without heat. “Guess you’ll all have to do without me for dinner.”
“Why’s that?” Spencer asked.
He grinned. “I’m going over to see the baby. Sorry, but between you guys and her, she’ll win every time.”
Reluctantly, Dare turned to fully face him. “Before you do that, why don’t you see what Matt wants?”
Chris froze. Damn it. After three beats of utter silence, he let out a breath. “He’s here?”
“On the dock,” Spencer explained, and he somehow sounded gentle.
Fuck that. Chris didn’t want anyone to be gentle. What he wanted he couldn’t have, but he’d deal with it. And yet his chest constricted with suffocating emotion…and elation.
Matt was here.
He went to the end of the patio, looked down the hill, and there was Matt sitting at the edge of the dock, once again with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.
Trying to look unaffected, Chris glanced at Priss. “You invite him here again?”
“Actually,” Trace said, “Dare and I did.”
What the hell did that mean?
Almost in slow motion, Chris turned back to the group. The stares amplified. Exasperation sharpened his tone. “Are you waiting for me to do tricks, or what?”
Dare took control. He handed the tongs to Spencer and came forward two steps. “If you don’t want Matt around, tell him so. But far as we’re concerned, it’s fine.”
Fine? What the hell. “Gee, thanks.” Chris shouldered his way through them and started down the hill. What were they up to? Okay, he got it that the wives meddled. They had big hearts and wanted everyone to live in delirious happiness.
But Dare and Trace?
As he went past his house, Chris saw the overnight bag sitting by his door and he locked his jaw. With each step along the grassy path, his stomps grew heavier until he fairly rattled the dock when he reached it. Matt jumped up to greet him, and he looked…
Deliriously happy.
Leaning in close, Chris spoke low and mean. “What the f**k, Matt? I told you that you couldn’t keep doing this.”
His tone didn’t daunt Matt one iota. Seeming far too pleased, Matt said, “They told me everything.”
Chris pulled back. “They, who?”
“Trace and Dare.” He gazed up the hill and, still smiling, gave a happy wave.
Chris jerked around, but everyone went conspicuously busy. Eyes narrowed, he turned back to Matt. “Everything, as in what exactly?”
Matt clasped his shoulder, and his voice softened. “I know what they do. I know what you do. They explained it all, and it makes perfect sense to me.”
No way. Chris held silent, disbelieving.
That didn’t dissuade Matt either. “I know they’re big, badass mercenaries who save people from human traffickers and a whole host of other awful situations. I know they can be deadly—literally. I know their work is top secret.” He inhaled. “And I know you’re key to things running smoothly. I’m so honored that they trust me.”
Again Chris jerked around to look at the others. This time they looked back, as if they’d expected his reaction.
Dare stood there, hands on his hips. Trace had his arms crossed over his chest. Spencer saluted him with a beer.
Well. He didn’t know what to say or think.
Still clasping his shoulder, Matt pulled him back around. Chris saw him swallow hard.
“I know,” Matt continued, “that they count on you too much for you to ever leave here.”
Feeling combative without really knowing why, Chris clenched his hands. “I’m here because I want to be.”
“I understand that, too. It’s a wonderful place. Peaceful and beautiful.” He searched Chris’s face. “I love it here.”
Especially when he started grinning.
Finally he’d be able to get a clear-cut answer from Chris. He only hoped it’d be the right answer, because he loved Chris. He wanted a life with him.
And he seriously never again wanted Dare or Trace to feel the need to visit his salon.
* * *
As he did at the beginning of each month, Chris went through the house, filling all the printers with ink and paper, putting fresh toiletries in all the bathrooms, replacing old magazines with new, checking batteries in the smoke detectors and bulbs in all the lamps. He left Dare’s routine messages on his desk, with a calendar of upcoming appointments. Anything important was processed as it came in.
Like the file Trace had requested, which Chris had handed over that morning.
The hall clock showed it to be a few minutes before six. Finished for the day, Chris detoured through the house to the backyard, where Dare stood at the grill turning ribs. Shirtless and in trunks, Spencer talked softly to Trace, who wore an unbuttoned shirt over khakis while he pored over papers opened on the patio table.
Dressed in a rainbow hue of summer colors, Molly, Priss and Arizona clustered on lounge chairs. They had their bare feet up, cool drinks in their hands as they talked quietly.
Sargie and Tai noticed Chris first, drawing the attention of the others. One by one, they turned to stare at him.
“What?” He looked down. “Did my shorts turn transparent?”
Folding his papers, Trace straightened. “Alani and Jackson aren’t coming over. Jackson said the baby kept him up last night.”
“Selfish bastard,” Chris said without heat. “Guess you’ll all have to do without me for dinner.”
“Why’s that?” Spencer asked.
He grinned. “I’m going over to see the baby. Sorry, but between you guys and her, she’ll win every time.”
Reluctantly, Dare turned to fully face him. “Before you do that, why don’t you see what Matt wants?”
Chris froze. Damn it. After three beats of utter silence, he let out a breath. “He’s here?”
“On the dock,” Spencer explained, and he somehow sounded gentle.
Fuck that. Chris didn’t want anyone to be gentle. What he wanted he couldn’t have, but he’d deal with it. And yet his chest constricted with suffocating emotion…and elation.
Matt was here.
He went to the end of the patio, looked down the hill, and there was Matt sitting at the edge of the dock, once again with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.
Trying to look unaffected, Chris glanced at Priss. “You invite him here again?”
“Actually,” Trace said, “Dare and I did.”
What the hell did that mean?
Almost in slow motion, Chris turned back to the group. The stares amplified. Exasperation sharpened his tone. “Are you waiting for me to do tricks, or what?”
Dare took control. He handed the tongs to Spencer and came forward two steps. “If you don’t want Matt around, tell him so. But far as we’re concerned, it’s fine.”
Fine? What the hell. “Gee, thanks.” Chris shouldered his way through them and started down the hill. What were they up to? Okay, he got it that the wives meddled. They had big hearts and wanted everyone to live in delirious happiness.
But Dare and Trace?
As he went past his house, Chris saw the overnight bag sitting by his door and he locked his jaw. With each step along the grassy path, his stomps grew heavier until he fairly rattled the dock when he reached it. Matt jumped up to greet him, and he looked…
Deliriously happy.
Leaning in close, Chris spoke low and mean. “What the f**k, Matt? I told you that you couldn’t keep doing this.”
His tone didn’t daunt Matt one iota. Seeming far too pleased, Matt said, “They told me everything.”
Chris pulled back. “They, who?”
“Trace and Dare.” He gazed up the hill and, still smiling, gave a happy wave.
Chris jerked around, but everyone went conspicuously busy. Eyes narrowed, he turned back to Matt. “Everything, as in what exactly?”
Matt clasped his shoulder, and his voice softened. “I know what they do. I know what you do. They explained it all, and it makes perfect sense to me.”
No way. Chris held silent, disbelieving.
That didn’t dissuade Matt either. “I know they’re big, badass mercenaries who save people from human traffickers and a whole host of other awful situations. I know they can be deadly—literally. I know their work is top secret.” He inhaled. “And I know you’re key to things running smoothly. I’m so honored that they trust me.”
Again Chris jerked around to look at the others. This time they looked back, as if they’d expected his reaction.
Dare stood there, hands on his hips. Trace had his arms crossed over his chest. Spencer saluted him with a beer.
Well. He didn’t know what to say or think.
Still clasping his shoulder, Matt pulled him back around. Chris saw him swallow hard.
“I know,” Matt continued, “that they count on you too much for you to ever leave here.”
Feeling combative without really knowing why, Chris clenched his hands. “I’m here because I want to be.”
“I understand that, too. It’s a wonderful place. Peaceful and beautiful.” He searched Chris’s face. “I love it here.”
