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I noticed that his pale blue button down was wet too, clinging to his chest and shoulders.
“I’ve put all your stuff on the third floor,” I added.
Reed nodded and walked up the stairs. My eyes followed his ass until I remembered we had company.
I turned back to Korry. “I’m afraid we don’t have any alcohol on hand.”
“No worries, I had a pint at the pub. I could use a coffee though.”
“Espresso?”
“Feck, yes,” he replied and rubbed his hands together.
I didn’t want to be charmed by this man. Bad enough Reed already was.
We headed for the kitchen and made the usual introductory chit chat. After I made two espressos, we sat at the dining table, waiting for Reed to join us.
We talked about Kiernan mostly. He was dating Charlie, and training to work alongside his boyfriend on the yacht. Then we talked about my plans, and Korry’s availability to come to the US when and if, I felt I needed protection.
When Reed finally re-appeared, in clean jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and bare feet, I wanted to tell Korry to take his plate and take off back to the hotel.
Instead, I sat there staring longingly at my best friend while he took the seat across from me.
“Why didn’t you guys start eating?” Reed asked.
“We were waiting for you,” I replied and served him a plate, then passed another over to Korry.
“You should’ve started without me. Korry told me he was famished as we were leaving the pub.”
“Quit it already and eat,” I teased, shoving a mouthful of surprisingly tender beef between my lips.
Reed gave me his best finger in response.
“Save that for dessert,” I warned him.
His face flushed and he bit his lower lip. Fuck, I loved to see him like this. He was always so smooth and effortless with other men.
But not with me.
“Fecking hell, this is good stuff, Tate,” Korry remarked as he ate with gusto.
“Thanks. I do okay in the kitchen.”
“I live on takeaway,” Korry grunted. “Can’t cook for shite.”
Then our chatter silenced as the three of us focused on our food. The best part was the Yorkshire puddings. They were light and chewy, like a popover, soaking up every bit of the remaining gravy.
“You still want to go out this weekend, Reed? Hit a club with me and have some sexy fun?” Korry asked.
The fork I was holding slipped out of my hand and onto my now empty plate with a loud clang.
Reed nodded. “Definitely. This one here hates to go dancing.”
“I don’t hate dancing. I hate club music,” I corrected him.
Reed rolled his eyes.
“Same thing.”
