Page 72 of Devil's Kiss

“Yes?”

Jordan knew he was about to sound like a goddamn nutcase, but… “Remember when you raced after Finn and told him how pathetic you were without him? How did you know?”

Brantley’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t ask questions. He just grinned a smug-ass grin, as if Jordan had just told him something he already knew. “If you’re asking me that, then you already know.” And he was right.

Oh my God.Brantley is right.

Hedidknow. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Jordan had always known. From the first time they’d met to the night he’d found Derek broken and bloodied. Yes, they’d never labeled it. Probably because the both of them were too scared to ruin a good thing, but when Derek had finally been brave enough to bring it up with him, Jordan had panicked. There was no other way to describe it. He’d had no clue what to say and royally fucked everything up—just like he had last night.

Oh God. OhGod.

He needed to fix this. And he would. Somehow.

Jordan grabbed Brantley’s arm and gripped it tightly. “I’ll be there Saturday. Text me the details.” When Brantley’s brow rose and his mouth opened to respond, Jordan plucked the coffee out of his hand and said, “Thanks for this. You’re a genius.”

Brantley laughed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Right, well, don’t worry. I hear being a genius these days doesn’t mean you’re any smarter than all those around you. Set two extra places for Saturday. I’ll be there.Witha date.”

DEREK GOT HOMEa little after eight thirty, tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and made a beeline for the fridge. He needed a beer. Hell, maybe two at this stage.

His day had been busy and long. They were in the middle of adding a sauna to the showers down at the gym, and today there had been one problem after another. Though, he had to admit, he didn’t mind standing in a room full of hot, sweaty men as they worked through the issues with the plumbing. They’d estimated the new piping they had to order would set them back about a week with the deadline. Though it wasn’t ideal, it was manageable, and Derek figured in the end the payoff would be worth it.

On the plus side, he hadn’t had time to think about a certain someone who had a bad habit of always being in his head, and he also didn’t have time to think about the other huge problem in his life.

His fucking father.

He’d conveniently pushed him aside in the hope that the longer he ignored the issue there was a chance that Alan would stop leaving messages on his phone. But when he’d looked on his way home this afternoon, there’d been two new messages from his brother.

He twirled the bottle opener around his finger as he turned, ready to head for the living room, and that was when he spotted a huge bouquet of flowers in the center of the kitchen table.

Okay…Did someone die he didn’t know about?

“Hey, Prescott?” he called out. He waited to see if his roommate was home, and when he spotted him walking down the hall with his headphones around his neck and a grin on his face, Derek popped the top off his beer and aimed it toward the flowers.

“What’s the deal, man? You trying to brighten the place up a bit?”

Dylan flipped him off and then walked into the kitchen to grab some chips out of one of the top cabinets.

“Negative. They were on the doorstep when my taxi dropped me off this afternoon. Came in a fancy vase and everything.” He chuckled.

Dylan had been out of town for the past week, which was nothing unusual, since he’d started booking some higher-paying gigs. He always had a steady stream of work and was jetting off somewhere to pose for something, and Derek always joked that one day some rich guy at one of those exotic locations would go crazy for his pretty face and up and marry him. Then he’d never see him again. To which he would get the standard Dylan reply: “I don’t want someone only interested in my face. He better also want to do something filthy with my body. Fuck you very much.”

’Cause let’s face it, Derek thought, as Dylan rested back against the counter in only a pair of board shorts,the guy has an incredible body.He should know. He was his trainer.

“You’re not supposed to be eating those.” Derek pointed to the chips.

“Yeah? Well, you aren’t supposed to be drinking that.”

Derek looked at the bottle and shrugged. “Okay, fair enough. But Ineedthis. I had a shit day. What’s your excuse? Too stressful sipping your whiskey sours up in business class?”

“Hey, flying can be stressful.”

“Yeah, when you fly coach like the rest of us lowly peons. Not all of us live the high life, you know.”

“I just do what I’m told.”

Derek grinned and took a swig of his beer. “Don’t advertise that too loudly; you may end up in a precarious position.”