Page 32 of Carver’s Craving

As we walked to the front, I put my jacket on.

Carver and Finn each paid, and then we all trudged outside with our milkshakes.

The wind hit me in the face and I scooted past the waiting lineup, holding in the desire to apologize. “Holy crap, it’s cold.”

“Sheesh.” Carver rolled his eyes. “You’re such a wimp.” Then he hit the remote.

Not waiting a second longer than necessary, I dove for the back seat. As I settled in the middle row, I gazed out the windshield at Carver and Ulysses who stood by the hood, taking their sweet time. I shrugged.

Again, Carver rolled his eyes. Nasty habit, that.

Ulysses grinned. Then he pulled Finn for a rather long, lingering kiss.

Jeez, guys, get a room. More a reminder of what I didn’t have. What I couldn’t have. Even as I had the thought, though, I gazed to the east and spotted The Grand Hotel. There. One night of bliss. An emotion washed over me that I struggled to identify. Nostalgia? Lust? Longing? I couldn’t be certain.

When Carver settled in the driver’s seat, I resisted the urge to rub his shaved head. Where the hell did that thought come from? Nowhere sane, that’s for certain.

After securing his seat belt, Ulysses turned his neck so our gazes met. “That was kind of you.”

I cocked my head.

“Sitting in the back.”

“Oh.” I tipped my cup at him. “I like the view from back here.”

Carver’s gaze shot to the rearview mirror and settled on me.

I grinned.

He rolled his eyes.

Sheesh.

Still, he started the SUV.

Ulysses waved to Finn.

We started home.

Chapter Nine

Carver

As the three of us discussed weather, the Vancouver Canucks hockey team, and the upcoming Santa Claus parade in downtown Mission City, a sense of unreality settled in.

Ulysses was a good guy. A little reserved until he got to know someone, and then he opened up and showed a different side of him.

Styx was a gregarious guy who rarely used a filter. As best I could tell, whatever he thought just came right out of his mouth.

And yet—

I took a right turn to pull onto Ulysses’s street. The cabin where he lived had been in Finn’s family for several generations. Finn had been massively in love when he’d insisted Ulysses move in. They’d married soon after that.

“You sure you don’t want to come in to see Thelma?” Ulysses craned his neck so he could see Styx. “And we have a bonded pair of senior cats. Kirk and Spock. Adorable creatures. Now, I never thought I’d be saying that—I didn’t have pets when I was growing up. Finn had a dog when he was younger.”

“Me either. Never had a pet,” I quickly clarified.

“You can count me as a third.” The amusement came through loud and clear in Styx’s tone.