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“There are so many bald-faced lies said about us,” Gideon said. Grady turned and immediately wished he hadn’t. Thegleeon Gideon’s face made Grady want to kill something. “Who’s your ‘friend,’ Grady?”
“I’m Lake!” Lake said happily, still enamoured by his coffee, like a kid in a candy shop. Not attractive.Not attractive.
“You should make sure that you have marshmallows at your place, so next time you make me a coffee you can add these,” Lake said as he sipped. Some of the melted marshmallow clung to his top lip, and he licked it off. Grady wished he wasn’t so mesmerised by the move, but he couldn’t look away.
Quinn chuckled. “Grady isn’t a marshmallow fan,” he advised. “Or anything that is sweet, or cuddly, or could even vaguely be construed as cute. Sometimes he smiles, but if it’s too wide, his lips crack.”
“Fuck off,” was all Grady said in response.
“You can get lip balm for that,” Lake said, his own smile wide. He put the mug down. “Shirt delivered. Walk me back to my car? It’s a block away, and I’m worried about getting mugged,” he said innocently.
Grady knew it was bullshit, and yet he still stood. He shrugged out of his jacket because he knew it was hot outside and draped it, along with the shirt Lake had brought him, on his chair. He rolled up his sleeves as he gestured for Lake to go ahead, back the way he had come.
“Why do you always do that?” Lake asked, twisting and pointing at his forearms.
“Do what?” Grady asked, confused.
“Roll your sleeves up like that.”
“Because it’s hot,” Grady said. Why else would he do it? Wearing a T-shirt would be easier, but that wasn’t work wear.
“I have heard that it’s a pretty hot move,” Lake said, nodding sagely.
“What?” The fuck did that mea—Oh. “No, I mean the weather ishot,and the long sleeves make it worse.”
“You can’t deny that the rolled-sleeves-suit look is like catnip to most people with a pulse, though. I haven’t tried it personally; suits are hard. But I’ve heard.”
Grady waited for Lake to go through the automatic doors at the front of the precinct and then followed him out. “You don’t own any?” he asked. He couldn’t say that he was surprised. Lake didn’t seem like a suit person.
“I don’t need to wear them,” Lake said. “I don’t go to a lot of formal events, and the ones I have to go to for work, I have to wear my mess dress so…” He shrugged.
“Mess dress?”
“Oh, my dress uniform. The black slacks with the red stripe, black sash, red jacket? Hold on. I think I have a picture.”
When they stopped at a set of lights, Lake pulled his phone out of his pocket, and after a few minutes, flipped it around to show Grady. “This.”
Grady almost tripped over a crack on the sidewalk.Holy shit.Damn. Fuck, he looked incredible. Lake had a nice body, all lean muscle, and he looked mouth-watering in the formal dress. Because Grady wasn’t going to have enough issues with the image of Lake in his camo uniform; he neededmoreto haunt him. “Which way is your car?” Grady asked, trying to erase the image from his mind. He put it in the “do not touch” section of his brain and told it to stay there.
“Three o’clock,” Lake said and turned in that direction. Grady fell into step easily beside him. “Do you like sport?” Lake asked as they walked.
“Sport?” Why was Lake asking him about sport?
“Yeah. Hockey, football, soccer, tennis, MMA… you know, sport.”
“I know what sport is.”
“And… do you like it? Do you watch it?”
“I don’t get a lot of time for TV,” Grady said. And what little time he had was generally spent watching shows he would never admit to. “I’ll occasionally watch a good football match?”
“What makes it a good match?”
“Two teams in the top four? I don’t know.”
“What about basketball?”
“What about it?” What was with all the weird questions?
