On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [74]
Frankie made a protesting noise, and Jess amended, “Or at least, not interested for longer than a single night.”
Buggering hell, was Jess ever turned around on that one. Frankie roused himself to say, “That’s not entirely the way I remember it.”
There was a pause. Then Jess’s voice, cautious. “Frankie. Even after we got together that first time, you didn’t let me spend the night here until my sister caught us making out and wigged over the whole gay thing.”
Miranda had indeed wigged, although again, Frankie remembered the event a little differently: i.e., that Big Sis was less upset about the gay thing than she had been about Jess being with Frankie—older, wilder, nasty rep . . . in short, a bad, bad man.
“You were living with her,” Frankie pointed out. “If you’d stayed over, you would’ve had to deal with being catapulted out of the closet that much sooner.”
“True. But I don’t think that’s why you used to kiss me good night and send me back uptown.”
Frankie fought not to stiffen, knowing that in their current position, Jess couldn’t help but read and interpret every minute physical shift.
The conversation was skating disconcertingly close to one of the fault lines that ran jagged through Frankie’s messed-up psyche. He had no interest in spelunking into the depths tonight.
Or ever, really.
“Is this actually what you wanted to talk about? Seems a bit like ancient history to me. After all, you’re living here with me now, all snug and cozy, no late-night cab rides back to Big Sister’s place.”
“Maybe it’s a tangent, maybe not,” Jess said. Christ, Frankie hated it when he got cryptic. Bloody Americans, brought up on Yoda. “I wanted to talk about what happened after the show tonight, when we hung out with Wes.”
Bugger. No power on earth was going to keep Frankie from tensing up in an obvious and easily detectable way at the mention of Wonder Wes. In the Garret, no less! In their nest!
Frankie did not like it.
Abruptly needing to be not quite so well cuddled, Frankie rolled away from Jess and got to his feet. He camouflaged the strategic retreat with a hunt for the pack of Dunhill’s wedged into his back pocket.
Frankie lit up and took a deep, bracing drag before saying, “Yeah? What about it?”
Jess hadn’t moved, apparently unfazed by Frankie’s defection from the nest. “You were charming. You made us laugh. Wes thinks you’re the king of awesome.”
“So where’s the bad?” He didn’t mean to come over all truculent, but there it was.
Jess leveled him with a look. “You hated every second of it. What I want to know is why.”
The Bit was going to keep pushing, Frankie could see that. “Wes is a wanker. Stuck-up little tosspot thinks he knows better than everyone in the kitchen.” He paused, weighed his words, and decided fuck it. “An’ I don’t fancy the way he looks at you.”
That brought Jess up onto his elbows, eyes flashing. “I thought it was going to be some load of crap like that.”
“Crap?” Frankie was honestly offended. Here he was, sharing his innermost thoughts and feelings, and Jess called it shite? He stuffed down the voice that reminded him he was absolutely skimming over the real issue.
“Yes, crap,” Jess retorted. “First of all, anyone who’s seen the way I look at you knows I can’t see anyone but you. And secondly, Wes is completely hung up on this chemistry professor of his back at the Academy. Who happens to be a woman, thank you very much. And anyway, jealousy over Wes is not what’s got you so ticked.”
Frankie pulled a mouthful of burning smoke into his lungs and held it there until his eyes watered. “Tell me, then, if you’re so clever. What am I on about?”
Jess appeared to make an effort to collect himself. “I don’t know. That’s what this conversation is about.” He smiled, but it was more of a grimacing twist of his lips. “You’ll be happy to hear you’re as much of an enigma to me as ever. Being in love with you hasn’t suddenly rendered me capable of peering directly into your head to see what’s going on.”