On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [96]
He didn’t want to think about the future he could feel breathing down the back of his neck like a bouncer at a posh club, just waiting for one false move to throw Frankie out on his arse.
Glowering down at his beloved grill, Frankie rubbed a thumb over the blackened edge of the seasoned cast-iron slats.
The future was coming, whether he liked it or not, he brooded. Did they have to talk it to death before it ever happened? Like living through it twice, that was.
He expected it would be bad enough just the once.
Loud footsteps banged up the back staircase. “No, the menu’s not ready yet! Tell them it’s a surprise. Spin it! That’s your damned job!”
Frankie jerked around to see Devon stab viciously at the “off ” button on his cell.
“I miss the good old days when you could crash the receiver into the cradle when you wanted to hang up on someone obnoxious,” Frankie said.
It surprised a sharp bark of laughter out of Devon. Frankie didn’t want to share a sense of humor with the prick, but the hell of it was, they weren’t that different, Devon Sparks and Frankie Boyd.
Which, come to think of it, was probably exactly why Frankie couldn’t stand him.
Determined to shore up the animosity that might’ve been damaged by the shared joke, Frankie leaned against the counter and said, “Menu trouble? Be glad to give you a hand if you’re stuck.”
There, that ought to brass him off.
Instead of getting irate, however, Devon rubbed his hands through his carefully tousled, artfully gelled hair and blew out a big sigh. “I might take you up on that. Christ, what have I gotten myself into? Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”
Frankie had to grin. “Taking advantage of Miss Lolly’s absence, are we?”
“She and Tucker are on their way,” Devon said absently, still engrossed in his menu. “We spent the afternoon at the Central Park Zoo and the kid managed to spill grape snow cone all down his front.” He looked up, frowning. “Wait. What?”
Blimey, this was the longest Frankie and Devon had ever gone without insulting each other. Morbidly curious to see how long it would last, Frankie said, “The swearing, mate. Noticed she’s pretty well trained you out of it when she’s about.”
Devon laughed. Frankie refused to soften, even if the man was showing some startling signs of being human. “I guess she has. God, how embarrassing. You never think it’ll happen to you.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ll meet someone who changes you. Or makes you want to change. Be better, maybe. Come on, you know what I mean.”
Frankie had to fight not to shuffle his feet like an errant schoolboy. How did this conversation get so out of hand?
“No, I don’t,” he said, not caring that he sounded sullen and childish.
Devon arched a brow, some of that old, familiar arrogance coming over his face and making Frankie feel more at home. “Bullshit. I’ve heard the stories. You took a bullet for that server kid you’re seeing. Miranda’s brother.”
“Jess,” Frankie muttered. “All right, so you may have a point there. The Bit can make me act like a prat. Oi!”
Frankie blinked, sifting through the natural defensiveness incurred by Devon’s reference to Jess and finally putting together what Devon was actually saying.
Devon and Lilah were involved; after that kiss in the middle of the kitchen Friday night, the whole crew knew that much. But from the sounds of what Devon was saying now, there was more going on than just a bit of quick slap and tickle.
It sounded suspiciously like . . . well. Love.
“You jammy bastard,” Frankie said admiringly. “Of all the buggers to get lucky with Lilah.”
“I know,” Devon said, looking justifiably surprised. “Sometimes I can’t really believe it myself. She’s gorgeous, makes me laugh, is better with my kid than I am, and as if that weren’t enough, she’s helping me with the menu for Saturday night.”
Frankie’s ears perked up. Maybe they’d manage to steer this steamship clear of the icebergs after all.
“You don’t say! Good