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“And on that note, I’m going to grab a bowl of cereal before the kitchen becomes too crowded to turn around in,” Tavis declared, rising to his feet with the practiced ease of someone used to living life in constant motion. “Which side is the unhealthy cereal on?”
“Left,” Riley replied. “Multi-colored on the top shelf, single colors in the middle.”
“Nice!”
Might as well wait for Tavis to finish rummaging around for what he needed before he tried to slip in there, Zakk thought, crossing out a word and chewing on the end of his pen while deciding what to replace it with. At least the trip ahead of them was short, unlike the months on end they’d spent touring in the thing. A day and a half would be a cakewalk, especially if they rolled without stopping except for gas. Then it would only take a day at most. They had enough drivers to manage it.
Truthfully, Zakk was both excited about what the spa had to offer and a little worried that the friction between Tripp and damn near everyone was going to derail shit. Maybe if he was feeling better. It couldn’t have helped things to be stressed out and in pain for as long as he’d been. He was willing to accept that as a major reason for the attitude and comments Tripp had been making lately, but that was only going to fly for so long.
Okay, food, focus, happy thoughts, only happy thoughts. This was going to be a new beginning for all of them. Zakk had to believe in that because the alternative was far too depressing to consider. At least Riley seemed upbeat and excited too, about everything except the motorcycle anyway. Maybe out in the desert, with a long stretch of empty road, Dez might be able to coax Riley onto the back of it for a little adventure. Might be just the thing to see them get back on the right track.
“No coffee?” Tavis called out.
“Sorry.”
“They better have a damn good coffee bar at this place,” Tavis griped.
Riley snickered and cut Zakk a look. “Amen, brother.”
The pamphlet had suggested Tripp drink tea in place of coffee so Zakk had gone out and found every kind he could that was supposed to promote calm, even getting suggestions from Dez and Damien about what teas might help settle high strung nerves. In response, Dez had hooked him up with an amazing website that sold CBD teas, gummies and lotions, advising him to get a little of everything because Tripp was wound tighter than a duck’s ass and Zakk was going to need every bit of help he could buy if he was going to have any hope of loosening him up.
At least that had never been necessary in the bedroom, where Tripp was as wild and uninhibited as anyone Zakk had ever been with. Giving, adventurous, sexy as sin and hot as hell, with the ability to use his size to completely engulf Zakk and rock his world. He was hoping for a little more of that at the spa and a whole helluva lot less of Tripp being, well, for lack of a nicer word, an asshole.
An asshole who looked absolutely adorable curled on his side, clutching a pillow, his hair draped across his face like a curtain. Zakk set the tray on the top bunk so he could trace his fingertips along Tripp’s cheek, brush his hair back and lean in to brush a kiss over it. The contented sigh Tripp let out prompted him to do it again. If only he could keep the man looking and feeling this peaceful, there was no telling what they might explore between them.
“Hey,” Tripp groaned, blinking up at him. This close, Zakk could see all the swirling colors in those brilliant moss green eyes. It was like sinking into a rolling field on some ancient isle, brilliant and untouched by man.
“I made breakfast, and before you protest, I’m going to remind you that the doctor instructed you to eat normal meals and stop skipping them and then making them up with power bars and protein shakes.”
“Yeah, yeah I heard him.”
“Then sit up and have breakfast with me.”
He was grateful that Tripp didn’t protest, just did as he’d asked and smiled when Zakk placed the plate in his hands.
“Whoa, this looks amazing. Smells amazing too. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Zakk replied, sitting on the floor, up against the opposite bunk, so they could talk while they ate. He set their mugs out of the way so they wouldn’t get knocked over, pleased when Tripp didn’t hesitate to dig in.
“Oh man, you didn’t skimp on the cinnamon,” Tripp moaned around the first bite.
“It wouldn’t be proper French toast if I had.”
“True, but you’d be shocked at how many people don’t share that belief.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve run into a few places where you needed the Hubble telescope to see the three lonely specs of cinnamon on the bread.”
Snickering, Tripp snagged a forkful of egg next, looking pleasantly surprised the moment they’d slid past his lips.
“Is there cheese in there?” he asked once he’d finished swallowing.
“Someone might have mentioned you preferred them with a sprinkle of garlic pepper and some quote-unquote, melty cheese. I’m not exactly sure what melty cheese is, but there was Swiss in the fridge, and it melts just fine, so, there’s a slice in there.”
Shaking his head, Tripp took a second bite before commenting. “Melty cheese is what Winter and I called the yellow bricks of processed cheese our sisters always kept around the house when we were growing up.”
“I got the distinct impression from Winter that they raised you guys?”
It would be a few more bites and half a piece of French toast before Tripp decided whether or not to confirm that bit of information.
