Page 93 of The Way Home

“Ladies, calm down. Oi!” Halcombe stormed to the center of the room, glaring at Dillion. “Sit, Hawthorne. Now.”

With a petty smirk, Dillion hopped off the bench and settled in between Sally and Drea. As the coach launched into his post-game analysis, Caleb slipped out the door to clean up his training gear. The faster he got it all into his bag, the sooner he’d be home to Jamie.

Checking his phone, he saw a few texts from Jamie, a message from Maggie asking him how he was doing, and another missed call from Dad.

Like the shitty son he was, he didn’t call his dad back on the drive home and instead called Tay. He rolled down the window and smoked a cigarette. Nicotine was the only way to make thoughts of the old fuck fade away.

“Chéri, you areglowing.”JB lounged at the high-top table, a glass of white wine cupped in his slim hand.

Jamie pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. “Glowing? What do you mean?”

JB’s dark eyes drifted slowly from Jamie’s face down to histhroat, lingering there. “You made love,” he announced with a wicked smirk.

“What?” Jamie spluttered. “Caleb’s been at the Chelsea game all day!”

“No, I mean this week. You’ve been making love.”

Heat flooded Jamie’s cheeks, and he snatched up the menu, holding it in front of his face. “Christ’s sake, Jean-Baptiste…”

Slim fingers plucked it straight out of his hands.

“Oi!” Jamie protested just as the waiter appeared. JB didn’t miss a beat.

“This one will have your fanciest mocktail,” he said, gesturing lazily toward Jamie.

The poor server flushed—as people tended to do when JB focused on them—and hurried off. JB slapped the menu back onto the table. “Now,” he said brightly, leaning forward, “tell me everything.”

“About… Caleb?”

“About your lovemaking.”

Jamie nearly swallowed his tongue. “Jesus Christ, I… I don’t—” He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of this conversation. “What, exactly, do you want to know?”

JB propped his chin on his fists, eyes gleaming. Jamie should have known that agreeing to drinks was a mistake.

“Was it amazing? Are you back to being tragically in love?” The server returned with Jamie’s mocktail, which he grabbed immediately. JB continued, “When is the wedding?”

Jamie choked. “Slow down.” His cheeks were blazing now. “I’ll tell you—just… give me a moment.”

JB gave a delicate, satisfied shrug and leaned back, crossing his arms.

Naturally, he was wearing a perfectly tailored green suit that made him look like he belonged in a romantic comedy. Meanwhile, Jamie had spent the entire afternoon stressing about his library exhibit and had thoroughly destroyed his curls by dragging his hands through them for three straight hours.

“Things have been… good,” he said, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.

JB arched a skeptical brow. “Good?”

“Fine. Amazing. We’ve been…” Jamie sighed, realizing there was no escaping this conversation. “We’ve been sleeping together.”

JB leaned forward, mouth already opening, but Jamie pointed a warning finger at him. “Let me finish.”

The Frenchman snapped his mouth shut, settling back with a grin.

“It’s been nice,” Jamie went on, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sleeping in the same bed still feels new to me. So, erm… yes, the other stuff has been excellent as well.” His voice climbed higher as an unhelpful image of Caleb pinning him to the kitchen counter that morning flashed through his mind.

“You deviant,” JB said, taking a delicate sip of wine. “I am so proud.” Jamie dropped his face into his hands with a groan.

“So, how’s the sex?”