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Evan just grunted and picked up his coffee. “Is that a yes?”
Colin gave up. Evan didn’t care about aesthetics or design—function and comfort were his two main criteria for furniture, with price running a close third—and nothing Colin had said in all the years they’d been friends had changed that. “Sure. What time?”
“You work until five, right?”
“Yeah, but I can cut out early if I don’t have any meetings.”
Evan pursed his lips, his eyes thoughtful. “If I come over around four, I’ll have time to get things set up so it’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”
“That’ll work. What are we having?”
Evan was quiet for a moment, toying with the handle of his coffee cup. “I don’t know yet,” he said finally, and raised an eyebrow in question. “You okay with a surprise?”
“Sure,” Colin said. “I won’t have to figure out what to wear, at least.”
Evan sent him a slow, sexy wink that had the butterflies in Colin’s belly waking up. “No, you won’t.”
Colin lost his breath for a moment at the seductive gleam in Evan’s eyes. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” Evan asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes never faded.
“Giving me the bedroom eyes when we don’t have time to do anything about it.” Colin tried a stern, narrow-eyed look. He wasn’t sure he pulled it off, because he was blushing again.
“Why would I stop when you like it so much?”
“I do not,” Colin said, loving it.
“Yeah, you do,” Evan said, confident, and rose to his feet. “Gotta get dressed.”
Colin watched him carry his dishes to the sink and rinse them off. “Cocky bastard.”
“Yeah.” Evan shut off the faucet and turned. He’d splashed some water on his chest, and Colin watched, fascinated, as it ran in tiny rivulets down the plane of his abdomen to disappear in his open fly. “You like that, too.”
He did. He liked it a lot, though it felt like he should deny it, just on principle. Then Evan winked, that sexy smile still curling on his mouth, and any words Colin might have used to protest slipped away like smoke.
When Evan strolled out of the kitchen, Colin let out a slow, careful breath. Friday seemed very far away.
Thanksto a goodbye kiss that had turned into a grappling, sweaty make-out session, Evan was ten minutes late to the store. His dad was already there when he let himself in, booting up the trio of registers at the checkout desk.
He looked up when his son came in, a smile creasing his weathered face. “What, you don’t call when you’re going to be late?”
Evan shoved up the sleeves on his sweater—the same one he’d worn last night, he hadn’t had time to go home and change—and rolled his eyes. “It’s ten minutes.”
“Late is late,” Eddie countered. “I’m docking your pay.”
Evan slipped behind the counter and laid a smacking kiss on his father’s cheek. “Tyrant.”
“Freeloader,” Eddie countered and leaned back to give his son a curious once over. “Why are you dressed up?”
Evan looked down at the sweater and jeans, which thanks to Colin’s tidying, were only a little wrinkled. “I’m not dressed up.”
“A sweater instead of a t-shirt, jeans that don’t look like you picked them up off the floor.” Eddie grinned. “Got a hot date after work?”
“I’m having dinner at your house,” Evan reminded him. “So, no.”
“Oh, right.” Eddie’s brow creased for a moment, then the grin was back, along with a sparkle in the blue eyes he’d passed to his son. “Must have been last night, then. Never made it home, did you?”
Evan just sighed and keyed into the first register. He knew he should’ve gone home and changed.
