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“No.”
Lake wasn’t sure what to say to that. The first question that popped into his head was “So why are you doing it?”—but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Or what the answer would mean. “Have you done that before?” he asked instead.
“Pretended to arrest someone?” Grady asked, shooting him an amused look. “Absolutely not. Don’t tell my boss.”
“Mum’s the word.” Lake put his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels as they waited for the crosswalk man to go green. “Thanks for back there.” He had no idea how he’d been planning to extricate himself from that situation at the end of the night. Maybe a hasty “have a nice life”before he got the fuck out of the area as soon as possible. This was a way better option. Grady had been amazing.
“Was it that bad?” Grady asked. The crosswalk man turned green, and Grady put a steady hand on the small of Lake’s back as they headed across. Lake felt like it was searing a handprint into his skin, and he didn’t want to do anything to disrupt it or make Grady pull away, even if that meant walking twice as fast to keep up with Grady’s pace.
“I don’t even want to talk about it, it was that bad.” Considering how much Lake liked to talk—which he was sure Grady had noticed—the fact he didn’t want to talk about it should have been answer enough.
Grady nodded and didn’t ask any more questions. Lake was glad.
“You’re a good guy,” Lake said, waiting for Grady to unlock his car and trying to mask his disappointment when Grady dropped his hand.
“You’d be the first person to say so,” Grady said, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Lake clipped his seatbelt on and smiled at him. “Maybe the first person to say it to yourface, but I bet I’m not the first person to think it.” Grady acted like a stereotypical gruff detective, but Lake could see the heart beneath, and it made him want to keep digging to unearth it. He had a feeling it was something special.
“Sure, let’s go with that.” Grady started the ignition and leaned back in his seat. “So, where to? The barbecue is still going on at Quinn’s if you want to head back there?”
“If it’s okay, I’d rather not,” Lake said quietly. He didn’t feel like socialising anymore that night. Normally, he loved a good party, especially one that involved a lot of people. “Can we just… go to your place?” he asked. Right then, he just wanted to go to Grady’s house, watch something, and fall asleep listening to Grady growl about whoever was doing something stupid on whatever show they’d picked.
Grady glanced at him, something unreadable in his dark-olive eyes. “Sure.”
Gradywoketothesight of Lake sprawled beside him for the third time. He’d thought after that first night that it had just been a once-off. Apparently not. Lake slept like an unruly toddler that needed to have all the space. Lake was sleeping peacefully, his eyes closed, with his head resting on the pillow and facing Grady. His hair had flopped onto his forehead, and his lips were parted slightly, drool drying at the corner of his mouth. His hand was stretched towards Grady, almost touching his shoulder.
Lake mumbled something and then twisted, turning over. His foot must have caught on the sheet because it pulled it down, revealing his ample ass. Covered in bright-yellow SpongeBob briefs—which should have reduced the sexy factor but unfortunately didn’t—they were tight enough that it didn’t matter; nothing was left to the imagination. Lake had the most incredible ass, with a perfect roundness that would fit beautifully in Grady’s hands.
Grady groaned and made himself look away.You don’t ogle your friends, Donehue. Get a fucking grip.And that was the only category that Lake could fit into. Lake was straight, and Grady wasn’t in the market for anything. He was still dealing with the bullshit fallout of his last train wreck of a relationship.
He forced himself to get out of the bed and slip on a pair of soft, worn black sweatpants before padding barefooted out into the kitchen.
Lake had to know this wasn’t a normal friendship. Normal friends didn’t text constantly, like they couldn’t stand to not be in contact for more than an hour break at a time. And they didn’t share a bed. It also hadn’t even been two months since they’d met. Grady had been friends with Quinn for years, and there had been one occasion where they’d passed out drinking on Quinn’s couch after a horrific case that had left them both shaken. Otherwise, any time they’d needed to stay at each other’s houses for whatever reason, they’d used the couch or a spare bed. Not once had they consideredsharinga bed. Maybe Grady’s couch wasn’t the comfiest in the world, but it wasn’t as though Lake were staying for a prolonged period of time. One night wouldn’t hurt him.
Maybe it was just a Lake thing. He was far friendlier than anyone Grady had ever met, including one of Quinn’s boyfriends, Will, who was a fucking six-foot-sixpuppywith a gun.
Grady found ingredients to make a half-decent porridge for breakfast. Lake was still asleep by the time he’d finished eating, and he needed to go into work for a few hours to square away some paperwork on a few of the million cases he and Quinn were trying to wade through.
He left Lake a note and put the pot of porridge in the oven to keep warm.
Quinn was already at the station when he got there, along with Henry and—surprisingly—Greer.
“The fuck is he doing here?” Grady asked as he sat heavily at his desk. Quinn glanced up from what he was reading, his steaming mug cradled in his hands. Damn, Grady knew he’d forgotten to grab something before he sat down. He stared longingly at the doorway that led to the staff room. The effort required to get up and go make something seemed insurmountable.
“He works here?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Quinn asked, and Grady could see the laughter in his eyes. The fucker was laughing at him.
“I’m working,” Grady said indignantly.
“Then maybe so is he?”
Right. Grady wondered if Greer had ever worked a day in his fucking life. Logically, he had to have: Riley wouldn’t keep dead weight around, and maybe there were afewcases he’d solved. Grady wasn’t interested in adding logic to his argument. The guy was an asshole and a disgrace to the force. “What areyoudoing here? Trouble in paradise already?”
Something flickered in Quinn’s eyes. “No, I just need to get some stuff done.”
