Page 31 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

In Your Eyes

Chance

The days leading up to Thanksgiving are a whirlwind of preparation.

Ant is a man on a mission—I’ve never seen anyone so organized about a meal.

It’s impressive, to say the least. He’s also unusually chatty when he’s buzzing around playing party planner.

Makes me want to pin him to a wall and devour those full lips.

“Jen and Butters are confirmed,” Ant says, setting down a notebook filled with what looks like menus and lists.

“Well, they already were, which you knew. But I had them double-confirm just to be sure,” he continues, rambling adorably.

“Butters’ family is in North Carolina. His dad’s a senator, you know. ”

“No, I didn’t. Senator Butters Sr.?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Senator Buterbaugh, actually. But yeah, they don’t see eye-to-eye on anything,” Ant adds, shaking his head. “Butters has used football the last four years as an excuse to avoid Thanksgiving and family arguments. I’m sure he’ll continue that tradition when he’s in the pros.”

“Believe me, I can’t fault him for that.” I lean back on the couch, watching Little G chase his tail in the corner of the room. “Lexi’s in as well,” I tell him. “Her family’s traveling to Italy for the holidays. Her classes are too intense right now for her to go with.”

Ant nods, flipping through his notes, tapping his pen against the counter. “Good. Yes, that’s good. I’ve got everything we need for dinner covered. Even picked up that new card game everyone’s posting about.”

Fuck, he’s cute.

“You really are incredible, you know that?” I tell him again. He flushes, a faint pink crawling up his neck as he ducks his head. That reaction never fails to make my insides melt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, busying himself with his notes.

Hours later, as I shuffle off to bed, Ant is still bustling around the apartment, looking like he’s preparing for dinner service at a Michelin star restaurant.

“Night, roomie,” I tell him, stifling a yawn. “Don’t stay up too late, it’s not that serious.”

I barely make it two steps before I hear a dramatic gasp, followed by an outraged, “Not that serious? I can’t believe you just said that! Go to bed, Sullivan.”

I throw my head back and laugh, pushing my door open. “So, then it’s not ‘nothing’, Pacini. Own that shit,” I throw over my shoulder as I step into my room.

Fuck, I think sassy Ant is my new kink.

Dildo Baggins is definitely getting a workout tonight.

The next morning, I wake up to the irresistible scent of something mouthwatering wafting through the apartment.

Rubbing my eyes, I pad out of my room to find Ant hurrying around the kitchen, pans sizzling and counters crowded with ingredients. Little G is lounging nearby, his nose twitching at the smells.

“What is that marvelous smell?” I ask, leaning against the wall at the kitchen entry.

I may have thrown on my clingiest pair of gray sweats—with no underwear and no shirt—before coming out here.

It’s having its desired effect. Ant’s eyes drink me in, and I see a flash of hunger before he averts them to a spot on the floor.

“Sausage, garlic, onions, and celery for the stuffing,” Ant replies, turning around. “If you’re not making Italian stuffing, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Noted,” I laugh, stepping into the kitchen. I barely manage to bite back a comment about how I wouldn’t mind being stuffed by an Italian. “What can I do to help?”

He glances at me, his face softening into a smile. “Polish the extra wine glasses I picked up and set the table?”

“On it. Coffee first. Does Little G need to go out?” I ask.

“Nope, we already went for a walk as soon as I got up.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy, Beautiful,” I tell him as I pour some coffee. Predictably, he blushes.

I throw on a shirt and Billy Idol’s greatest hits before grabbing the wine glasses and a few cloths to polish them. My eyes keep drifting to Ant as he moves around the kitchen with effortless precision. He’s completely in his element, and honestly, it might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

As I’m polishing the last glass, I catch a whiff of something that smells suspiciously like bacon.

I quietly sneak into the kitchen and watch Ant as he stands at the stove, tending to the pan.

His athletic bubble butt shakes slightly in the white team sweats he’s wearing, and I can’t resist the urge to touch him.

I step up behind him, placing my hands on his hips and resting my chin on his shoulder to peer into the pan.

“Is that bacon? What’s the bacon for?” I ask, my voice low and teasing.

He tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing, a smile forming on his lips. “You can have some to hold you over when it’s done. I’m using the grease to inject the turkey.”

“Oh my God, that sounds delicious,” I say, stepping back reluctantly.

It might just be my imagination, but I swear he was leaning into me.

I needed to put some space between us though—before he felt a completely different kind of injector pressing against his ass.

I swear, there are too many unintentional puns at Thanksgiving.

Honestly, I deserve a fucking award for restraint.

As we’re putting the finishing touches on the apartment, I remember I haven’t called Ma yet. “Hey, I’ve got to video call my mom quick and say Happy Thanksgiving,” I tell Ant.

He nods, waving me off. “Go for it.”

I step into the living room and pull up her contact. The screen lights up with her warm and comforting smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, Ma.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, baby. How’s it going today? You miss me yet?”

“Always,” I say, grinning. “But I’ve got good company. Ant’s been cooking like a madman since early this morning. The smells in here have my stomach growling, Ma.”

“Oh, really? Well, isn’t it time I meet this friend of yours,” she says, her eyes twinkling. I’m not even hesitant at this point. I want them to know each other.

“Hold on.” I turn toward the kitchen. “Ant! Come say hi to my mom.”

He pauses, wiping his hands on a dish towel before walking over. As soon as he comes into view, Ma gasps. “Oh my God, look at you. Chance, your friend is gorgeous!”

I snicker, glancing at Ant, whose face has gone completely red. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he, Ma?”

“Okay, now we’re embarrassing him,” she says, laughing.

His embarrassment doesn’t last long, though.

Ma asks about the meal he’s preparing, and he grabs the phone from my hands and takes her into the kitchen.

I take it back— that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

They have at least a fifteen-minute conversation about recipes before I cut them off.

By the time we hang up, Ant’s hazel eyes are glittering, and I can’t stop smiling.

It’s now late afternoon and the apartment feels warm and cozy, filled with the delectable aroma of a roasted turkey that’s almost done. There’s a knock at the door, and I open it to find Jen, Butters, and Lexi, all bundled up and carrying various items.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Jen says brightly, stepping in first with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bakery box in the other. “Smells like heaven in here.”

Lexi follows, holding a pie carrier, her curls bouncing as she beams. “You all arrived at the same time?” I ask, taking the carrier from her. “Yeah,” she laughs. “I ran into these two just as I was leaving my apartment for the strenuous twenty-foot journey to your door.”

Butters is the last to enter, grinning and balancing a six-pack of craft beer in one hand and a large platter in the other. “Damn, PacMan. You never disappoint. Smells insane in here. Oh, and I brought your special request, bro,” he hollers.

From the kitchen, Ant pokes his head out, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Cannoli? Yes!” His voice is filled with so much excitement, it’s impossible not to smile. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off him when he’s so… electrified.

Lexi peers into the kitchen, surely taking in the scene as Ant moves from pot to pot like he’s conducting a symphony of flavors. She shakes her head in amazement. “Whoa. Are you secretly a caterer or something?”

“Not quite. Just an Italian kid who spent way too much time in his grandma’s kitchen,” Ant tells her.

I grin, hearing them as I’m closing the front door behind everyone. “No, there’s no catering here, but Ant is a genius in the kitchen. Let me take your coats.” I reach for their jackets, and they each hand them over while murmuring their thanks.

“Wine and hard liquor are in the dining area and there’s a cooler on the patio with beer, soda and bottled water. Glasses are over here,” I tell them, gesturing toward the kitchen table.

Everyone makes their way inside, filling the space with chatter and laughter. Jen pauses as she steps into the dining room, inhaling deeply. “No, seriously. I can’t wait to eat. Did you help with the cooking, Chance?”

I laugh. Loudly. “No, it was all Ant,” I say, glancing toward him in the kitchen.

He’s focused on something at the stove; brow furrowed in concentration.

I walk over and place a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently.

“He’s been at it since the crack of dawn, and he hasn’t stopped.

This might turn out to be the best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever had. ”

Ant looks up, startled by the compliment, but his lips twitch into a tentative, shy smile. “You’re exaggerating,” he mutters, but the blush creeping up his neck says he likes hearing it.

Jen and Lexi exchange a pointed look behind him, their expressions a mix of amusement and knowing.

“Can I help with anything?” Jen asks, stepping closer to the kitchen, seemingly ready to jump in.

Ant whirls around, dramatically points his whisk at her, and declares firmly, “No. Nope. You’re not allowed in the kitchen,” though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “Dinner will be ready in an hour. Just relax, have a drink, and stay out of my way.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jen mock-salutes, retreating to the living room with a grin.

I finish making a drink and bring it into the living room, where Jen and Lexi are already settled on the couch, talking about their favorite Thanksgiving movies.

Glancing back at Ant, I catch the slight upward curve of his lips as he works in the kitchen. Fuck, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of seeing him like this—confident, comfortable, and in his element. I wish I could give that to him every minute of every day.

Jen’s been blatantly flirting with Lexi since they arrived. At one point, she leans close and whispers something that makes Lexi laugh.

“You’re wasting your time, Jen,” Butters interjects, grinning. “Lexi’s spending a lot of time with my boy Beau lately.”

Jen rolls her eyes. “And here I thought I had a chance.”

Lexi stands up, looks at them both and says, “The night is young,” and saunters off to the dining room.

Jen falls back against the couch, draping the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically. Butters doubles over, falling to the floor in hysterical laughter.

We gather around the table, sharing drinks and trading snarky banter, the kind that feels like second nature now. As I glance around at the people filling the room with laughter, my eyes inevitably drift back to Ant in the kitchen, effortlessly commanding the space.

A warmth settles in my chest, unfamiliar but welcome. In just a few short months, I’ve found myself surrounded by friendships that feel like they could last a lifetime—and one connection I hope grows into something so much more.

Dinner is a hit. The food is outstanding, as expected, with each dish delivering an explosion of flavor.

During a lull in conversation, I take the opportunity to stand and raise my glass.

“I just want to say how thankful I am for all of you. Moving here alone was scary, but you’ve made it feel like home.

I never knew what the term ‘found family’ really meant until this very moment.

And to my unbelievably talented, generous and beautiful roomie—” I tip my glass toward Ant, who’s sitting directly across from me.

“—thank you for this meal and for creating a new meaning to Thanksgiving for me. It was never a good experience in my home growing up, but this... this is something I’ll always remember. ”

Our eyes lock, and the world seems to fall away. He holds my gaze, his expression unreadable but soft. The moment stretches, thick with things unspoken.

Jen fans herself dramatically, breaking the silence. “Holy shit! I’ve never seen anyone text ‘you up?’ with their eyes before.” She turns to Lexi, her tone playful. “It’s hot in here. Wanna take a cold shower with me?”

Lexi twirls one of her bouncy curls, giving Jen a sly smile. “Keep filling my wine glass, and we’ll see.”

Without missing a beat, Jen leaps up to grab the bottle.

Butters’ eyes are bouncing around the room, trying to figure out what’s going on. I snicker and shake my head.

After everyone leaves, Ant and I clean up together, moving seamlessly around each other. Little G watches us from his spot on the couch, occasionally wagging his tail when we glance his way.

“Well, tonight was a big hit,” I tell Ant as I put away the last wine glass. “You did a bang-up job, Ant. Everyone had a great time. I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

He shrugs. “It was nothing, really. I enjoy feeding people.”

God help me.

“What did I tell you? It was not nothing. That was a lot of work, Ant, and I appreciate the hell out of it.”

He turns his head from the bowl of mashed potatoes he’s putting into a container, and gives me the sweetest smile, eyes softening around the edges.

“I’m glad today created happy memories for you, Chance.

That’s why I enjoy this kind of thing so much.

It’s not just feeding people. It’s bringing them together, sharing moments, and reminding them that they’re important to you. ”

I blink, blink again, and swallow over the knot forming in my throat. I need to get out of here before I march into that kitchen, press him against the fridge, and shove my tongue down his throat.

“I—um I’m going to… Little G needs to go out,” I stammer.

Ant nods, unfazed. While he finishes putting the food away, I take Little G out for a quick walk.

By the time we say goodnight, I’m bone-tired but content. As I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, I think about how perfect the day was. For the first time in my life, Thanksgiving was… everything it’s supposed to be.

The only thing that could make it better is if the beautiful man sleeping on my couch was lying next to me instead.