in the window—which is why I had us sit here, for full disclosure—and now he’s driving around like a hotheaded sixteen-year-old who got cock-blocked. This is fantastic. If you don’t get laid tonight, and epically so, I’ll eat this plate.”
Gabriel glanced around, but no one it seemed had overheard them. “I don’t have any plans to get laid tonight, thank you.”
“Oh good. Make him work for it, the cocky son of a bitch.”
“I mean—” Gabriel lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying to find his footing in this conversation. “I don’t think we’re a good fit. Yes, we had an enjoyable evening together, but I’m not interested. And despite what you’re thinking, I don’t believe he’s interested either.”
Paul leaned forward onto the table. “Here’s the thing. Arthur doesn’t date.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. But we did. Or…something.”
“Exactly. Usually he just hooks up. If he dated you and didn’t take you to bed after? Honey.” Paul shook his head. “Whenever you want to reel him in, feel free, because this one is on the fucking line, hook firmly embedded in his mouth.”
The image made Gabriel shudder. “I don’t want to put anything in Arthur’s mouth.”
“I’d recommend putting your cock there. The man has a wicked tongue.” Paul tossed a ten and a twenty on the table and grinned as he rose. “I gotta go, as I do have a date tonight, and as my getting laid isn’t a given, I have to go get pretty at the beauty shop.”
Gabriel was still trying to shake off the mental image of Arthur blowing him. “Yes—thank you for lunch. It was…interesting.”
“I’m telling you. You’ll hear from him by the end of the day, and he’ll be hell-bent on getting you into bed. Decide what you want to do with him. My recommendation?” Paul’s grin was dark. “Make the arrogant asshole beg. Though I’m serious about getting him on his knees.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Gabriel said faintly, watching Paul walk out the door.
Chapter Nine
Arthur drove eighty miles an hour all the way to his house, which meant he nearly wrecked three times. He didn’t care. When he got to his place, he slammed the door to his truck, hopped out and paced around his yard, swearing a blue streak at the air.
That was low . He didn’t know who he hated more, Paul, Gabriel or himself. Paul for poaching, Gabriel for turning over so fast or himself for letting Gabe get away.
God, if they were fucking right now, he’d die.
The thing was, Arthur couldn’t decide how to approach this. He wanted to go over and bust them up, to pin Gabriel to his bed and remind him what he wanted a man to be like. But he’d never recover if he caught them together. He didn’t know why. He’d done threesomes with Paul a million times. Fuck, once it was a foursome.
He couldn’t share Gabe with anyone, though. Gabe was his .
Except he wasn’t.
Fuck, he really needed to fix this. But how?
He paced around now with much less rage and more focus, trying to figure out what would lure Gabriel back to him. He couldn’t make the grant thing happen any faster, and the fundraiser was equally slow. All they had to do was paint the sleigh, but he had yet to start his driving lessons.
Except that was all the wrong tree. The man was more than his job. What did Gabe want that Arthur could give him? Books? Arthur didn’t have any. Arthur didn’t have anything the man wanted.
Except shit, he did. Gabe had told him .
Arthur hustled into the house, grabbing a paper sack and filling it to the gills with venison. He started for the door, then stopped, put the meat back in the freezer and hit the shower. He trimmed his beard too, put on some cologne and wore the shirt Frankie had told him brought out his eyes or whatever. He fussed in the mirror when he was finished, not really sure what he was primping but doing his best to try. Then he grabbed the bag of meat, and his coat, and headed out to his truck.
He wasn’t
Gabriel glanced around, but no one it seemed had overheard them. “I don’t have any plans to get laid tonight, thank you.”
“Oh good. Make him work for it, the cocky son of a bitch.”
“I mean—” Gabriel lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying to find his footing in this conversation. “I don’t think we’re a good fit. Yes, we had an enjoyable evening together, but I’m not interested. And despite what you’re thinking, I don’t believe he’s interested either.”
Paul leaned forward onto the table. “Here’s the thing. Arthur doesn’t date.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. But we did. Or…something.”
“Exactly. Usually he just hooks up. If he dated you and didn’t take you to bed after? Honey.” Paul shook his head. “Whenever you want to reel him in, feel free, because this one is on the fucking line, hook firmly embedded in his mouth.”
The image made Gabriel shudder. “I don’t want to put anything in Arthur’s mouth.”
“I’d recommend putting your cock there. The man has a wicked tongue.” Paul tossed a ten and a twenty on the table and grinned as he rose. “I gotta go, as I do have a date tonight, and as my getting laid isn’t a given, I have to go get pretty at the beauty shop.”
Gabriel was still trying to shake off the mental image of Arthur blowing him. “Yes—thank you for lunch. It was…interesting.”
“I’m telling you. You’ll hear from him by the end of the day, and he’ll be hell-bent on getting you into bed. Decide what you want to do with him. My recommendation?” Paul’s grin was dark. “Make the arrogant asshole beg. Though I’m serious about getting him on his knees.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Gabriel said faintly, watching Paul walk out the door.
Chapter Nine
Arthur drove eighty miles an hour all the way to his house, which meant he nearly wrecked three times. He didn’t care. When he got to his place, he slammed the door to his truck, hopped out and paced around his yard, swearing a blue streak at the air.
That was low . He didn’t know who he hated more, Paul, Gabriel or himself. Paul for poaching, Gabriel for turning over so fast or himself for letting Gabe get away.
God, if they were fucking right now, he’d die.
The thing was, Arthur couldn’t decide how to approach this. He wanted to go over and bust them up, to pin Gabriel to his bed and remind him what he wanted a man to be like. But he’d never recover if he caught them together. He didn’t know why. He’d done threesomes with Paul a million times. Fuck, once it was a foursome.
He couldn’t share Gabe with anyone, though. Gabe was his .
Except he wasn’t.
Fuck, he really needed to fix this. But how?
He paced around now with much less rage and more focus, trying to figure out what would lure Gabriel back to him. He couldn’t make the grant thing happen any faster, and the fundraiser was equally slow. All they had to do was paint the sleigh, but he had yet to start his driving lessons.
Except that was all the wrong tree. The man was more than his job. What did Gabe want that Arthur could give him? Books? Arthur didn’t have any. Arthur didn’t have anything the man wanted.
Except shit, he did. Gabe had told him .
Arthur hustled into the house, grabbing a paper sack and filling it to the gills with venison. He started for the door, then stopped, put the meat back in the freezer and hit the shower. He trimmed his beard too, put on some cologne and wore the shirt Frankie had told him brought out his eyes or whatever. He fussed in the mirror when he was finished, not really sure what he was primping but doing his best to try. Then he grabbed the bag of meat, and his coat, and headed out to his truck.
He wasn’t
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