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Noah’s smile was broad and warm and utterly intoxicating. Rowe never stood a chance. He’d fallen years ago when they first met, and a separation of years and thousands of miles hadn’t killed that love.

“Sure.” He grabbed the gift for Noah and flopped down on the sofa. Igor attempted to climb up next to Rowe, but Noah shooed him away and dropped down next to him. They swapped boxes and both paused when they noticed that the boxes were the exact same size. But then Noah shrugged and they tore away the wrapping paper, flinging it around the room in a flurry of shredded bits as if his goal was to make the biggest mess possible.

As they both opened the flat brown boxes, they broke out in deep belly laughs that had them falling against each other. They’d gotten each other the same Cold Steel ax with the hickory handle. But Rowe had gotten Noah the one with the spike end; he’d received the one with the hammer end.

“I can’t believe you got me a tomahawk!” Noah said, spinning it in his hand as he checked its weight and balance.

“Great minds, I guess.” Rowe chuckled, admiring his own gift. He couldn’t believe it. When he’d ordered Noah’s, he’d seriously considered buying one for himself.

Noah grabbed both and placed them on the table before straddling Rowe’s lap. “Seriously, that is the sexiest gift I have ever received.”

Rowe wrapped his arms around Noah’s waist, settling his hands on his ass. “Should we worry what it says about us that we got each other weapons?”

Leaning forward, Noah brushed his lips across Rowe’s. “Only that we’re perfect for each other.”Ian and Hollis“Bad news, Mr. Pierce.”

Ian looked up from his desk and frowned at his newest server, a twenty-year-old he’d taken a chance on, one who’d been turned down for other jobs because of a juvie record. He’d had a gut feeling about Wade and it had paid off. “Haven’t I told you to call me Ian?”

“Sorry, Mr. Pi—Ian, sir.” Wade, rail thin and stretched to over six feet, crossed one arm over his stomach to grasp his forearm and didn’t quite meet Ian’s eyes. His shyness disappeared while serving—like he adopted a role the second he passed through the swinging doors, but all other times, he spoke with furtive glances and pink cheeks. “But we do have a problem. We’re booked solid tonight and Marsha just called in to say she was in a car accident.”

“What?” Ian stood up. “Is she okay?”

Wade nodded. “Yes, but she’s still at the hospital getting X-rays to make sure.”

“I wonder why she didn’t call me,” Ian wondered aloud.

“She did say she tried.”

Ian dug out his cell phone, the blank screen making him cringe. He plugged it in, checked, and sure enough, he had several missed calls, including one from his boyfriend. Hollis rarely called him at work. He looked back up at Wade. “Don’t worry. I’ll get someone else to come in and hostess tonight.”

Wade nodded and hurried off.

He dialed Hollis. They’d been living together for a couple of months, and this was their first Valentine’s Day. Unfortunately, it was also one of Rialto’s best and busiest nights of the year, so Ian had to work. He planned to make it up to Hollis over the weekend—rock his world with chocolate body paint. The yummy homemade kind with cocoa, vanilla, and Irish cream.

“Did you find something to do this evening?” he asked when Hollis answered.

“I don’t need to be entertained when you aren’t here, GQ.” Amusement laced that faint Georgia drawl that never failed to send shivers down Ian’s spine. “I managed to amuse myself for thirty-odd years.”

“Very funny. I just feel bad about you being alone on Valentine’s Day.”

“I won’t be. I thought I’d come there and keep you company. That’s why I called.”

“You’re welcome of course, but it’s going to be crazy, especially now that my hostess called in.”

“You need another? I can fill in.”

Ian’s mouth dropped open. “You want to host?”

“Sure. I worked in a few restaurants as a teen, so I’m sure I can make it work. All you do is greet people and lead them to an empty table, right?”

“There’s a little more involved than that.” He bit his lower lip, mind spinning as he considered his options. “This could actually work. And ooh, you could wear the Burberry slacks from that suit we picked out and that silk—”

“I think I can dress myself.” The chuckling on the other end of the phone made him squirm in his office chair. Hollis had the lowest, sexiest laugh.

“I know you can. I just really like you in those pants. They look so good framing your ass.”

“Then, of course, I’ll wear them. It is Valentine’s Day after all, so it’s important my ass looks good.”

Ian snorted.

“What time should I come down?”

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