Page 11 of Zero Divergence

Sawyer watched as Royce worked confidently in his kitchen. He removed the lid off a smaller pot, then added a few pats of butter and an ungodly amount of shredded cheese. Sawyer thought back to the night when Royce made him try the horrid processed cheese in a can and had a hard time reconciling the vastly different versions as the same man. Royce stirred the pot of grits vigorously until the cheese and butter melted. He dipped his middle finger inside the pot, scooping up a glob and holding it up for Sawyer to sample.

Keeping their gazes locked, Sawyer leaned forward a scant inch and wrapped his mouth around Royce’s finger. The grits were delicious, but the way Royce’s gray eyes darkened with lust was even better. Sawyer playfully twirled his tongue around the tip of Royce’s digit like he planned to do with the crown of his dick as soon as dinner was over. Royce’s lips parted, and a staccato breath hissed out. Then he cleared his throat. “Let me sauté the shrimp quickly, and we’ll be ready to eat.

Sawyer slowly released Royce’s finger, then licked his lips like he couldn’t wait for more of everything.

Royce took the slotted metal spatula and scooped out the bacon he’d been frying when Sawyer entered the kitchen, placing it on a plate with a paper towel to drain. He put the skillet back on the burner, turned it back on, and added the shrimp to the rendered bacon fat. Suddenly, Sawyer’s growling stomach was more demanding than the erection tenting his basketball shorts.

“Dinner smells heavenly,” Sawyer said.

“Orgasmic,” Royce corrected.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I stopped at a bakery on the way home and got a loaf of French bread. I was going to spread the garlic butter on top of the slices and pop it under the broiler for a few.”

“I can handle that,” Sawyer said, moving to the other side of the stove to spread the butter on top of the thick slices Royce had already cut. Partway through, his right forearm spasmed, and he dropped the knife on the floor. Rather than bemoan his nerve issues resulting from his deep-tissue burns, he put the knife in the sink and got a clean one out of the drawer and kept working.

While the bread was toasting in the oven, Royce scooped a generous heaping of cheesy grits in each bowl, then topped them with sautéed shrimp, onions, bacon, and scallions. “Do you want more cheese on yours?”

“There’s already enough cheese for six people in the grits,” Sawyer replied.

“I barely put enough in for me,” he countered.

“I’m fine.”

Sawyer chuckled when Royce sprinkled additional cheese over the top of his grits. When the bread was a perfect golden-brown, they carried their food to the table. Sawyer didn’t miss the chunk of French bread Royce dropped for Bones en route.

“You spoil him rotten.”

Royce shrugged. “He is the best boy.”

Sawyer couldn’t object to such an honest statement. “Tell me about your day, dear,” he said, lowering himself down into a chair. He spooned a large bite and blew on it before sliding the spoon between his mouth. He immediately started moaning when the flavors burst on his tongue. “Oh. Oh yeah. So good.”

“I know,” Royce boasted. “Do you want to go change out of your sticky underwear, or are you good to go?”

Sawyer laughed, feeling truly happy for the first time in weeks. “I’m good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Royce said, smiling wickedly before sliding a mouthful of shrimp and grits into his mouth.

Over dinner, Royce brought him up to speed on the new chief, new detectives in their unit, and the situation with Humphries.

“He’s a creepy fucker,” Sawyer said, barely managing to suppress a shudder.

“Mendoza or Humphries?” Royce teased.

“Humphries. I don’t know Mendoza.”

It wasn’t long before Sawyer’s metal spoon clanked against the bottom of the empty bowl. Then he ripped off a piece of garlic bread and scooped out the rest of the cheese and grits sticking to the sides of the dish.

“I cannot wait to sample the rest of Aunt Tipsy’s recipes, dickhead. These are the best grits I’ve ever had.”

“We better not tell Evangeline,” Royce replied.

“Are you kidding? Give me your phone so I can call her. Be prepared because she’s going to badger you for the recipe.”

Royce laughed. “Better yet, why don’t you share the leftovers with your mom tomorrow. I’ll copy the recipe for her if you think she’ll want it.”

“Bank on it.”