Page 63 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

Fifty years wasn’t enough.

I rested my head on the seat and blew out a ragged breath. “You coming to my place?”

“Are you asking if I want your dick?”

“You do,” I replied automatically, lifting a brow when he chuckled at my timing.

“I can’t decide if your confidence is annoying or charming.”

“Hmm.”

What was the point in playing coy?

Sex didn’t confuse me. Desire didn’t confuse me. I got off on the thrill of the chase, clandestine meetings, and whizzing around on my motorcycle in the dead of night. I liked the idea that we were getting away with something.

It was everything else that confused the hell out of me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just reeling from my Scrabble loss,” I lied.

Lorenzo slid his hand up my forearm. “Thank you for tonight. You’re a horrible Scrabble player, but you’re a good sport.”

I lifted his fingers to my lips and bit his thumb. “You cheated.”

He slugged my biceps. “I did not cheat.”

“You used extreme poetic license. Admit it. What the fuck is apaczki?”

“A donut.”

“I know donuts. That is not a donut,” I griped.

He rolled his eyes so wide, the whites glimmered in the dark. “Oh, puh-lease. Best donut ever…go.”

“Easy. Plain ol’ glaze.”

“How do you feel about chocolate glaze?”

“I could be down,” I commented. “But you know what sounds very fucking amazing right now? A hot dog.”

Lorenzo gave me a WTF look. “Has anyone told you that you have the palate of a ten-year-old?”

“You’re never too old for hot dogs, Lo. And I happen to know where to get the very best ones. Have you been to Pink’s? Their chili dogs are amazing.”

Lo pulled at my arm when I leaned forward to tap the privacy screen.

“Let’s save it for another day. It’s late and…I’m hungry for something else.” He lowered his head bashfully and snickered. “How corny was that?”

“Very corny,” I assured him with a laugh, grabbing a handful of his shirt and fusing my mouth to his.

“Did you need something, Pierce?” Raul asked.

I broke the kiss and nodded. “Yeah, let’s get Pink’s hot dogs, the usual times two, and head to the lookout point at Mulholland. Oh, and Raul…no hurry.”

“You got it.”

When the screen silently slid into place, Lorenzo burst into giggles. “I don’t want a fucking hot dog.”