A Change of Pace by JM Cartwright Page A

Drew was frowning, lips turned decidedly down. “What business is it of yours?” Uh-oh. That was confrontational Yankee, no doubt about it.
    “You mean, what business is it of mine that my best friend is letting some asshole from Chicago dick him around?”
    Christ. Why had he told Shelby what had happened at the barn? He butted in before the chest bumping got started. “Boys! I’m right here.”
    Breathing deeply, Drew gave him a look. Shelby just grinned, obviously glad he’d jumped into the fray.
    “Look. Drew, come on in. Shelby, you go finish making breakfast.” After glaring at Shelby until his pain-in-the-ass pal headed back to the kitchen, he turned back to face Drew, and found a different look on the rugged features. Suspicion. “What now?”
    “Breakfast?”
    Sigh. “Yes. Breakfast. As in, my best friend came over this morning and decided he wanted to make pancakes. Is that okay with you?” City boy wasn’t the only one who could do pissy.
    Drew backpedaled. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Biting his lip, he gazed around, his eyes falling on the two shepherds, who were sharing breakfast at Henry’s bowl. “They really do get along well, don’t they?”
    “Is that why you came over?”
    Drew grunted. “No.” His exasperation showed for a second. “I came to talk to you.” Taking another step into the apartment, Drew fidgeted, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.
    Ridge had to admit it was a bit of a tight fit, and once more his eyes zeroed in on the package cradled behind the zippered fly.
    “Right?”
    Jerking his eyes up guiltily, Ridge frowned. “What?”
    Drew sighed. “I said, I came to take you to breakfast. But, since your friend is already making it for you, looks like you’re busy, right?”
    Still frowning, Ridge thought about that. The same guy who didn’t want to be seen with him at the barn now wanted to be seen with him at a restaurant? Was this progress? Yes? “You’re asking me out?”
    “Forget it.”
    “Hold it.” He reached out a hand to pull Drew back from the door that the other man had started to open. “Just wait a minute, will you? Good God, you’re impatient.” Pushing the door shut, he waved at the living room. “Look, why don’t you eat with us? Let me just finish putting this stuff away.” Ridge gathered up his cleaning supplies, crouching to pile them in the basket.
    As he stood, he would have sworn that he heard a faint whistle come out of Drew, but when he cranked his head around, Drew was looking toward the kitchen, hands again shoved in those damned tight pockets.
    Now self-conscious that all he had on was the tiny running shorts, Ridge felt himself blushing as he clutched the basket and headed for the closet near the bedroom door. Quickly shoving the supplies inside, he ducked into his bedroom to grab another shirt.
    Rifling through his dresser, he paused. Why should he feel self-conscious? This was his home. Drew could stay or go. Smirking at himself in the mirror, Ridge straightened his shoulders and walked back to the kitchen. He brushed arms with Drew, passing him in the doorway to the kitchen. There. That was definitely a deep breath he heard.
    The kitchen was nicely sized, with the cabinets and appliances to the left, and an eating nook to the right. Ridge had built the banquette and table that filled the sunny corner. The dark blue vinyl upholstery nicely accented the polished medium cherry of the table.
    Eerily echoing his thoughts, Shelby spoke from the range where he turned the bacon. “Ridge built this whole kitchen. Maybe you didn’t know how talented he is.”
    As a kid, Shelby had always loved to poke hornets’ nests and anthills. But Ridge wasn’t sure if Shelby knew the kind of animal his friend was poking now. Ridge peeked at Drew from the corner of his eye. The frown was still in place, but it was accompanied by a measuring look as Drew gazed around the kitchen.
    “You built all this?” At least his tone sounded