“You let me help. That counts.”
“Okay, yeah.” Rusty rubbed at his eyes. “Moving on, it’s about dinner time. Have you been getting takeout? Do you want to go out somewhere?”
Cross suddenly wanted to get out of his damned house, but… “How long were you in the truck today? Do you really want to do more driving?”
“Uh, twelve hours. I would, though, if you’re up for it.” He didn’t sound eager.
“I’m pretty tired,” Cross lied. “Let’s get takeout.” He had a meal plan which delivered healthy, nutritious, well-cooked butboring meals to fuel his body in recovery, more scientific than back when his housekeeper cooked for him but less homey. Tonight, though, with Rusty gorgeous and young and vibrant at his side, he wanted… “Pizza. Feels like ages since I had any.”
“I could eat pizza.” Rusty grinned. “I remember you nixed olives. I guess you like broccoli, right?”
“How old do you think I am?” Cross would never admit that yes, he liked broccoli.
“As long as you get pepperoni, you can put on all the veggies you want.”
“So generous.”
“I’ll even let you pay for it.”
“I’m overwhelmed.” Cross put a hand over his heart, then got out his phone.
Through dinner and a movie, they steered clear of the emotional stuff by some kind of mutual agreement. The pizza was greasy and over-topped and totally off Cross’s meal plan, and wonderful. Having Rusty there grinning and complaining and licking sauce off his fingers was better. Cross felt himself expanding like a plant that’d been left too long without water, when the rain came at last. He laughed louder, breathed deeper. His whole house seemed brighter.
When they’d finished, Rusty dumped the plates in the sink, and the movie began winding down to an explosive conclusion. Cross hitched himself sideways on the couch to see Rusty properly. “When do you have to go to work?”
“I start at eight tomorrow.” Rusty made a face. “Although that’s ten Kansas time, so I shouldn’t complain, and I get off at four.”
“Tell me about the camp.”
“It’s for disadvantaged kids at a community center. They do school tutoring and art and sweeten the pot with sports. Some local friend of Scotty’s asked if he would help out, but of course he’s spending summer on the ranch. But Scotty called him last week, and they were still short of staff so they said I’d be useful.” Rusty’s lips twisted for a second in a way Cross couldn’t interpret, but then he brightened and added, “Scotty donated some money for equipment for the kids. I’m not sure we’re doing poor kids a favor, getting them hooked on a sport that costs like hockey, but I guess there’s ways to get grants, if they love it. Having me there’s not the same as getting a real NHLer, but I hope I can do good.”
“I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”
“Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up too bossy and make little kids cry.”
“No way. You have a kind heart.”
Rusty ducked his head as if to hide a smile.
“I mean it. You’re kind and fun and you light up a room.”And my heart.That was too cheesy, but Cross could say, “I missed the hell out of you. And you’re not bad to look at either.” He raked his eyes up and down Rusty’s lanky body as he reclined in the corner of the couch. “Eye candy for sure.”
“Not putting that on my kiddie camp resume.”
Cross snorted. “No, of course not.” He leaned forward and ran his hand from Rusty’s knee up the inseam of his jeans. “How tired are you?”
“Uh. What do you have in mind?” Rusty grabbed Cross’s wrist. “I haven’t jerked off in, like, three whole days, so if you want something, you need to be aware it won’t take much.”
Three days. Like that’s a long time, hah. We’re nothing alike.
Cross told his inner voice to shut up. “Three days. Poor baby. I bet you’d like to have my hand on you.”
Pathetic sex talk.
He told his inner voice to go take a trip to outer space. “I want to see you come.”
“Uh, really? You don’t need to. I didn’t come here for sex.”
Cross pulled free of Rusty’s loosening grip and moved his hand higher till he brushed the growing bulge in Rusty’s jeans. “Are you turning it down?”
