“I’m all about the logic. Do you want the nice healthy chicken dinners, or should we indulge?”
Rusty totally wanted some comfort food, but they’d had pizza last night. “Healthy, I guess.”
“Maybe you could pick up some fries to go with the healthy.” Cross laughed. “Imagine Tyler, thinking he freaked you out with his stalking fuckery and then he sees you lining up at McDonalds, not a care in the world. You might have to do it, just for that.”
Rusty wasn’t sure if Cross believed that, or was giving him an excuse or an ego boost, but he wouldn’t argue with that logic either. “Sold. Although not McDonald’s. Potato Mountain’s on the way.” If he was going to bust their nutrition plan, he’d spend a few extra bucks.
“Ooh, get gravy.”
“Heathen.”
“Connoisseur.”
Despite everything, Rusty was grinning as he put the truck in gear.
***
Cross kept his anger to himself as he waited for Rusty at the top of his front stairs. He wanted to run down and hug Rusty as he got out of the truck, a Potato Mountain bag in his hands, his shoulders slumped. Running was not in Cross’s current skill set, though, so he waved. “Come meet Hector.” He gestured to the mid-forties guy at his side.
Rusty glanced up, then jogged their way. “Hey,” he said to Hector as he reached them. “I’m Rusty.”
Cross told him, “Hector’s here from Amy, my security person, to check your truck and phone and everything.”
“Oh. Okay.” Rusty dug his keys back out of his pocket and held them out. “Have at it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Hector took the keyring. “Let me wand you and then I’ll start with the truck.”
“Right. The dome light doesn’t work.”
“It’s still sunny and I have a work light.” Hector ran a detector up and down Rusty, focusing longest on his sneakers, then shook his head, hefted his leather case, and strode off toward the truck.
Cross nudged Rusty with his elbow. “Let’s go on in and eat. Don’t let the fries get soggy.”
“That would be a shame.” Rusty followed Cross inside although he kept glancing over his shoulder until the door shut.
“Hector’s one of the best,” Cross assured him. “I trust all of Amy’s people completely.”
“I guess.” Rusty shook his distraction off and smiled at Cross, holding up the bag. “Ransome the fries for a kiss?”
“I’ll kiss you for free.” He slid his arm out of a crutch, reached up, and guided Rusty down for easy access. Kissing Rusty was different every time. This felt more like sweet comfort than heat, which suited Cross.
He parted his lips for Rusty’s tongue, but Rusty delivered the barest touch, then brushed their lips together and leaned back. “Did you miss me all day, being a wealthy dude of leisure?”
“In between the physio, the workout, and the ice soaks?” Cross asked. “Yeah, maybe.”
Rusty bent and kissed him again. “Sorry, I know healing’s a full-time job.”
It really wasn’t, which was part of Cross’s problem, but he grinned. “Working hard at it. What about you?” He re-engaged his crutch. “Come eat and tell me about your day. I want to hear about the kids.”And Tyler, but I won’t push.
They sat across from each other, making inroads on broiled chicken, broccoli, and gravy fries. Somehow, snatching fries off each other’s plate became a game. Cross slapped at Rusty’s hand as he grabbed the last one, but missed.
“Too slow, old man.” Rusty made a show of sucking the fry in between his lips and Cross was torn between laughter and appreciation.
My life is so much better with Rusty in it.Cross was about to say something sappy when Hector appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Mr. LaCroix? Rusty?”
“Call me Cross,” he emphasized. He wasn’t about to be Mr. when everyone else was going by first names. “Did you find anything?”
“Yep.” Hector held up a metallic bag. “Really basic. Air Tag stuck up under a ledge in the truck bed. That’s a misdemeanor to begin with, although getting access to the owner info can be a waiting game even with a subpoena. We’ll check it for prints and see if the partial phone number connects up to Wellington’s.”
