by Beth Bolden
This was what Milo had wanted for him. This was something they’d both worked for, before Milo had passed. Sean wasn’t going to let it go.
Maybe two years of discovering just how stubborn Sean was might be enough to convince Gabriel that it was time to give in. Not likely, but possible.
“I don’t see any other way we can do this,” Sean said.
“Okay,” Tony said uncertainly. He was clearly not convinced either, but while he was also their friend, he was also technically the owner of the ground they parked their food trucks on—an arrangement that over the last six months had made everyone a lot of money and brought tons of success. Nobody wanted to leave. And while he’d not exactly said so, Sean had a feeling that this was a watershed moment. One of them needed to change their name, or one of them was out.
Tony had known Gabriel first. Gabriel was still really well-known in the community. Sean had made a lot of inroads in the last two years, but if Tony had to pick someone, Sean was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be him.
He was better off negotiating with Gabriel, as awful as that idea was.
“Something needs to change by September first,” Tony said. “That’s the first home game at the Coliseum,” he added, referring to the home football stadium of the University of Southern California—the lot was situated only a few blocks away from the stadium entrance, and they already knew on game days, they’d be overwhelmed.
“Alright,” Sean said. “We’ll figure something out.” That gave them a little over a month to either make a decision—or kill each other. Whichever came first.
Tony stood. “Good luck,” he said. “I’ll be around if you decide you need a referee.” And then he was gone, leaving the two of them alone.
Sean couldn’t remember a time they’d ever been alone. Their friends had probably gone out of their way to make sure of that. Not sure if anything would still be left standing if it was just the two of them.
“Not for this,” Gabriel said, and the underlying intensity—the intimacy—in his voice made Sean’s hand freeze on his beer bottle.
He glanced up, and Gabriel was staring at him, those dark eyes reflecting his tone. More than once during the last two years, Sean had been reminded of his very first reaction to Gabriel.
Tall. Big. Broad. Beautiful.
It had been the first time since Milo that he’d seen a guy and felt that instantaneous moment of attraction. Then Gabriel had opened his mouth, and the moment was gone, but it had existed.
Sean often remembered it at the worst possible times. Like right now.
“So,” Sean said, clearing his throat. Trying not to think of how dark the corner of the bar was, how the flickering candle on the table was reflected in Gabriel’s eyes. How the light turned his face into a Renaissance masterpiece. “How are we going to do this?”
“All business,” Gabriel teased, but the edge of his voice was almost . . . sweet. Like he thought Sean’s attempt to be professional wasn’t annoying, but cute.
Something that Sean never expected from Gabriel was sweetness.
“Did we have something else we needed to talk about that isn’t business?” Sean wondered.
“No, but we have time. Over a month,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of his beer. “What’s the rush? Maybe we’ll negotiate better if we get to know each other first.”
“You mean that you want to charm me first so that you’ll get the upper hand.” He didn’t really think that was true—Gabriel could be difficult and frustrating and slippery, but Sean wasn’t sure that he’d do something so underhanded. He wasn’t a bad guy. Sean had learned that much by watching his friendship with Tony and Lucas and Ash and Tate blossom.
Even their own relationship, while still combative, had lost the sharper edges in the last few months.
Gabriel shrugged. “The best negotiation is one where we both get what we want.”
“I’m not sure how we can do that,” Sean admitted. “We both want the same thing.”
“Do we?”
Sean made a frustrated noise. “You know we do. We’ve wanted the same goddamn thing for the last two years, and you even threw a meatball at my chest to try to get me to cave. So don’t start, okay? I’m not stupid. I know exactly what you’re after.”
“Do you?” Gabriel’s mouth curved into something dangerous. Or maybe that was the unwanted attraction to him blooming inside Sean.
“You want to win,” Sean said.
“Maybe we can figure out a way we can both win,” Gabriel suggested.
“Based on what I know we want, I find that hard to believe,” Sean said. Then hesitated. This was exactly why Tony hadn’t wanted to leave them alone. Had wanted to play referee. He hadn’t thought they could do this on their own. Maybe he was right. But then, they’d never actually tried either.
Gabriel drained the rest of his beer and set it on the table with a decisive click. “I need more alcohol for this,” he muttered, standing up. “You want something?”
Buying rounds was a routine thing that their friend group did when they came to the Funky Cup. Sean was sure that Gabriel had bought him a drink before—but never just him. It didn’t mean anything, he told himself firmly, but his heartbeat accelerated anyway. “Anything you’re having is fine,” Sean said, anticipating that Gabriel would come back with another pair of beers.
Gabriel nodded, and walked off towards the bar, where their friend Jackson was tending bar as he did most nights. Sean decided he would take advantage of the momentary reprieve to try to get his—well, it was his dick, wasn’t it?—under control. Maybe Gabriel was undeniably attractive. Maybe Sean hadn’t had sex in four years. Maybe their combative interactions often had an almost flirtatious edge. But none of that meant anything. It certainly wasn’t going to mean that he was going to pant after Gabriel like a thirsty puppy dog.
He was better than that.
He was sure of it.
Then Gabriel returned, and slid a squat glass filled with amber liquid across the table.
“What’s this?” Sean asked, shooting the glass a suspicious glance.
“Manhattan. Jackson’s special recipe,” Gabriel said. “I figured we could use something stronger than beer.”
“Trying to get me drunk?” Sean wondered, even if he knew that wasn’t true. Gabriel wouldn’t want to cheat to win; he’d want to win free and clear.
“Just thinkin’ that maybe we might do better if we were both a little more . . . relaxed?” Gabriel said, shooting Sean a lopsided, almost bashful smile. “Sometimes our edges are a little . . . sharp?”
“My edges are sharp?”
Gabriel leaned forward, and Sean swallowed hard, suddenly, painfully aware of how close he was. How little Sean would have to move to press their lips together. “Don’t even pretend you don’t know. You like cutting me, I can see it in your eyes. They really shine when you land a particularly good blow.”
“Oh.” Sean didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. He was sometimes a little bit too proud when he came up with a particularly excellent retort.
Gabriel settled back in his chair, cradling his glass in those big, capable hands. Sean had watched them, way too many times, rolling meatballs, stirring sauce, serving the best Italian food that he’d ever been privileged to try. Not that he would ever tell Gabriel that. The man was already egotistical enough. But Ren would sometimes sneak Sean something when he was having a bad day, and Gabriel’s delicious food never failed to make him smile.
“You should try your drink,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of his own. “I think you’ll like it.”
“You think I will?” Sean wondered. “Or Jackson thinks I will?” He lifted the glass to his lips, and felt the smell of strong spirits hit him. He didn’t usually drink hard liquor; normally, he preferred a light beer, or a nice glass of wine at home when he was unwinding from a hard day. But it smelled good, actually, underneath that first hit of booze. Dark and complex, with a hint of cherry.
It was smoother o
n his tongue than he’d anticipated, and not just the cherry, but hints of orange as well. “That’s . . .” Sean cleared his throat. “That’s good. Strong, but good.”
“Told you so.” Gabriel’s grin widened. “They’re actually Ren’s favorite. He introduced me.”
Sean glanced around, searching for Gabriel’s cousin, as well as a topic of discussion that wasn’t an insult or the actual matter at hand. “Is he here tonight?” It was a rare weekend evening that didn’t find Ren here, holding court by the fire pits.
Sean really liked Ren; was kind of in awe of the man’s natural confidence with potential hookups.
Gabriel shook his head. “No,” he said. “He had a date tonight.”
“Which means,” Sean deduced, because he was familiar enough with Ren’s habits by now, “that you’ll want to postpone your return home as long as possible.”
“Yep,” Gabriel said wryly. “You know it.”
“How long has he been working for you?” Sean was still searching around for the right topic to keep them away from the topic. Ren was as good a one as any. He knew Gabriel’s cousin had been with him since almost the very beginning of his food truck, but he’d make Gabriel tell him anyway.
“From the first day,” Gabriel said ruefully. “The guy works hard, despite all his many failings.”
“I like Ren,” Sean said staunchly, knowing that Gabriel did too. He just liked to pretend that Ren was a pain in his ass.
“I keep him around to make the truck look good,” Gabriel admitted. “I feel like half my customers show up hoping to hook up with him, and the other half are there to try to do it again.”
Sean was surprised at the rueful tone Gabriel used. Did he think . . . no. There was no way that Gabriel thought he wasn’t attractive. He was just as attractive as Ren—more, even. He was just a little growly and difficult, and spent far less time attempting to charm the masses.
“You make the truck look plenty good,” Sean said, before he could stop himself. Why did he care if Gabriel didn’t think he was as hot as his cousin? It wasn’t any of his business. Gabriel wasn’t his boyfriend or his crush. He was barely his friend. He shouldn’t care. But he did.
Gabriel stared at him. “Really?”
Sean was flustered, even though he didn’t want to be. Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut? He took another drink and felt the booze burn all the way down his throat.
“You know you’re hot, okay,” Sean said.
“I do?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“Uh yeah, you’re just as attractive as Ren. Maybe more, I don’t know. I don’t spend much time thinking about it.” Liar.
Gabriel’s smile was slow and sweet, and unbelievably, blisteringly sexy.
“I’m not sure I believe that,” he said.
“You can believe whatever you want,” Sean retorted.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you.”
“If you’re thinking . . .” Sean didn’t know how to finish that sentence. What he should do was change the subject. Back to something safe. Like which of them was willing to change the name of their truck.
But he didn’t, because Gabriel Moretti had always fascinated him, and now he was caught.
“What would I be thinking?” Gabriel asked.
“I don’t know,” Sean said, and then made the worst mistake of all. He drained his drink. Felt the alcohol wash over him in an overwhelming wave.
Why had he done that? Was he hoping that if he was drunk, this would be easier?
Truthfully, everything did seem a lot clearer right now. He could see the last two years without any of the blinders that he’d clung to so hopelessly. He’d been attracted, on a deep, visceral level, to Gabriel from the very beginning. That had never really changed. He hadn’t been sure if it was mutual, but from the way Gabriel was looking at him now, it seemed impossible that they weren’t on the exact same page.
He could do anything . . . anything.
“I’m thinking that this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Gabriel said, “but that I don’t mind it.”
Sean held on to his sanity, barely. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, first thing was, I hoped that you’d relax enough to finally tell me why you named your truck On a Roll,” Gabriel said.
It was a reasonable assumption. There was no denying that. But it was a metaphorical bucket of ice-cold water, dumped over Sean’s head. It didn’t quite extinguish the warm fire in the base of his stomach that the alcohol—and Gabriel—had started. But it was enough to remind him that he’d never intended to waver from one unalienable truth: he was never going to give in and give up the name.
Sean stood, abruptly, the chair legs screeching across the old wooden floor of the bar. “I think . . . I think I should get home,” he said. “We can talk about this later.” Though he really didn’t want to leave. What had he been thinking, letting Gabe get him tipsy and pliable? Letting him flirt? Flirting back? It was insane, and it needed to stop now.
“Wait,” Gabriel said.
Sean turned away, the desperation on his face showed.
He didn’t want Gabriel to see it, and he really didn’t want to feel it.
Sean was across the room and through the door before he could be tempted to stay. The cool air hitting his skin helped to bring him back to reality—but not enough. Especially not when Gabriel was right behind him.
He heard the door to the bar slam behind him, and came to a halt as he sensed Gabriel’s big, warm body right behind his.
Taking a deep breath, Sean wished that his head was clearer. The realization that something had almost happened helped. The fresh air helped.
But he still wanted it. He wanted it way too much.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted just for the sake of wanting. Sex just because he was horny, and there seemed to be only one person who could scratch his itch.
With Milo, there had always been affection and care and so quickly after that, love. And while there had been a handful of others before Milo, Sean had never felt this hard and fast pull.
He didn’t know how to deal with it, and he definitely didn’t know how to deal with the fact that the person he wanted so badly was Gabriel Moretti.
Sean wasn’t stupid enough to think his sudden lust for Gabriel was a betrayal of Milo. Milo was gone and sex was sex; sometimes you couldn’t help who you wanted it with. But Sean was embarrassed for himself.
He’d always believed, during the worst of his pain and heartbreak, that he’d at least had his dignity.
Gabriel made him want to give it all up.
“Hey.” Gabe’s voice was low and concerned. But still, underneath his obvious worry that he’d scared Sean off, he could hear the edge of lust.
Why hadn’t he kept his stupid mouth shut? If he had, Gabriel might never have known that his feelings were so complicated. He might not have known just how complicated they were.
Sean squeezed his eyes shut. Wished he could block out Gabriel’s voice, too.
“Hey,” Gabriel repeated, and this time, Sean felt a hesitant touch of one of his big hands. Not on the relative safety of his shoulder. But on the plane of his back. The warmth of his hand seeped through the cotton of his t-shirt and Sean thought wildly that he wanted to know if Gabe was that hot everywhere.
If he turned around, he was going to do something that he regretted. That much, he knew.
He turned around anyway.
Chapter Two
Something was happening.
Inside of him.
Between him and Sean.
Definitely something inside Sean.
Gabriel had never known Sean to run before. He’d always stayed strong, so goddamn strong. Like he had a backbone made of freaking steel. But now, he wasn’t sure if the steel was bending, or it had never been as strong as Gabriel had originally believed.
Then, Sean turned around, and Gabriel realized as he saw the heat in his eyes, normally so cle
ar, but tonight, a cloudy, hazy blue, that he wasn’t bending. He was melting.
And he was melting right into Gabe.
“I left because this is a bad idea,” Sean said, and there was a little of that inner strength that Gabe found so amazingly annoying—and so amazingly sexy. Somehow, at the exact same time.
“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed. “It’s a wrinkle.” He’d only touched Sean briefly before, when he’d been standing there, back to him, and breathing hard, like he’d just run a marathon. Or maybe, Gabe realized, it wasn’t a marathon at all, but a battle with himself. But he touched him again now, in the same place, hand resting gently over the same spot on Sean’s back, and this time he didn’t move.
Sean glanced up at him, licking his lips. “Discovering you’ve run out of lettuce in the middle of a busy day, that’s a wrinkle. This is . . . a catastrophe.”
That stung a little, deep down. It wasn’t like Gabriel liked this situation any more than he did, but being wanted despite someone’s best efforts to feel otherwise? Not as fun as he’d always imagined.
But Sean laid a hand on his side anyway, right where his t-shirt met the waist of his jeans, and those nimble fingers grazed a sliver of his skin and Gabe inhaled, sharply. He never had a chance to exhale, because Sean’s mouth was on his, and they were kissing, and it was every bit the catastrophe that Sean had predicted.
It was wet and messy and absolutely fucking fantastic.
Sean’s fingers slid up along his spine and curled around the base of his neck, tugging him down, deepening the kiss, tongues tangling together as they stumbled backwards.
Gabriel felt the rough bricks against his back as Sean pushed him against the wall of the bar, his thigh brushing against his hardening cock. Rubbing against it shamelessly, like they weren’t on a public sidewalk, devouring each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
