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“I didn’t know you were home or I wouldn’t have.” Hollis crossed his arms on the granite counter and leaned forward. He watched as Ian added a spice to his sauce, tasted it, then wrote something down on the pad of paper he kept on the counter. That pad was always scribbled with notes. “I’m glad I went. He offered me a full-time job.”
“He’s done that before.”
“He upped the offer.”
“Oh yeah?” Ian’s slow grin did something wicked to Hollis’s insides. “You going to really consider it this time?”
Hollis nodded. “I think I’m going to take it. Even if I could get my old job back, I’m not sure I want it anymore.”
“I know that’s not true,” Ian murmured. He checked the sizzling steak, then flipped it. Every time he used the indoor grill, their place smelled of food for days. Not that that was any different than normal, but something about grilled meat scents made Hollis feel perpetually hungry.
And he was always that way just from living around Ian—even without the food.
Hollis knew Ian felt guilty about the loss of his career, and he wished he could convince him that he blamed only himself. And that he wouldn’t go back and change a thing. Actually finding kids, after so many years of failures…it had given him a sense of needed closure. He’d probably never learn what had happened to his best friend in high school, but a lot of families had been reunited and he would never, ever, feel anything but good about that.
“I do miss some things about the job; I won’t lie. And I’m pissed that it was taken so far and completely out of my control. But in working for Shane, I’ll still be doing a lot of the same kind of grunt work I did before. I won’t have as much authority, but I also won’t be as restricted in what I can and can’t do.”
“And with your knowledge of the law, you’ll know how far you can push without getting arrested.”
Hollis chuckled. “Best part.”
Ian lifted an eyebrow before checking on their steak again. “You sure you don’t want to work for Rowe?”
“Positive. Ian, I like your friends a lot, but they are in our lives a lot, too.”
Ian’s light brown hair flopped over his forehead when he lifted his chin abruptly to look at Hollis.
Hollis held up his hand to try and ward off the mix of worry and defensiveness he caught in his boyfriend’s expression. “Like I said, I like them a lot. I do, Ian. They’re a great group of men—even Lucas, though it pains me to admit that.”
“I won’t tell him.”
“I know better than that.” Hollis chuckled. “I knew what I was getting into with all those arrogant assholes, knew they were a family to you. So don’t ever worry about that. I want you exactly as you are, and you happen to come with a group of nosy, over-protective men and that’s fine.”
“At least they’re not bad to look at.”
“True.” Hollis nodded. “But I didn’t really see them anymore once I spotted you.”
Heat crawled up the back of his neck when he realized what kind of sap had just flopped out of his mouth. But that embarrassment fled in the wake of the look he received from Ian. Warmth and affection and something more spilled from those earnest, brown eyes. Something solid and real and unlike anything he’d ever received in his life. That look—every time he got it, his heart swelled too big for his chest and heat filled his gut. He curled his hands into fists because he wanted them on Ian right then. So badly.
Ian stared at him for long, taut moments before he turned off the stove and grill. He slid the steak onto a plate, covered it in sauce and handed Hollis a knife and fork. “You start. I’ll be right back.”
With heat still filling his cheeks, Hollis cut a bite of the steak and put it into his mouth. “Holy shit.” He moaned as the most fantastic flavor hit his taste buds. He slowly ate another piece, wanting to savor it as long as possible. He didn’t even look up when he felt Ian standing behind him.
“Is it good?”
“Incredible. And you know it is.” He cut a piece for Ian and turned to feed it to him, then forgot what he was doing.
Ian had taken off everything but the silly apron.
“Do you remember the next part of that poem?” Ian asked as he helped guide Hollis’s stalled utensil to his mouth. He slowly wrapped his lips around the fork and pulled off the bite of meat.
“Poem?” Hollis wasn’t capable of thought in that moment as he stared at Ian’s mouth.
“When I asked you into the kitchen, you quoted a poem. Leave the rest of the steak.” Ian turned and started walking away. The back view of nothing-but-apron was even better. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. “The next stanza of that poem starts with, ‘“Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly.’” He licked his lips and Hollis dropped the fork on the plate, best steak in the world forgotten as he surged to his feet.
