Page 86 of Cheap Shot

After Sebastian ate his hasty but delicious lunch, he hurried through brushing his teeth and changing into fresh clothes. He bundled up, then headed out the door.

“I’m going out!” he called to his employees. “Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Raul popped his head out from the back room. “You can take care of the fun part for us!”

“I’m going to do my best,” Sebastian promised with a laugh.

The wind hit him like an icy slap to the face as he pushed open the back door. It was already bitter cold today and windy, with the temperature dropping, so he took his rarely used car rather than deal with public transit.

When he arrived at Crawford’s home, he parked and stared out the window at it. What was he even doing here? He’d thought Crawford had hated the idea of him being in his space. So what had changed?

But Crawford had invited him over and he was here already. He’d go, watch hockey with him, and if it got too awkward, he’d duck out early. He had nothing to lose.

But for a moment, he simply looked at the house, wondering if it would give him any clues about who Luke Crawford really was. Like most single-family homes this close to the heart of Boston, his was on a long, narrow lot. It looked old—maybe 1920s or so—and had been nicely remodeled. As Sebastian got out of the car and started up the walk, he wondered if Crawford had done the exterior work himself. The house had a grayish blue siding with cream and warm brown trim accents.

There was even a little free library out front.

He really doubted Crawford had installedthat. He didn’t seem like a reader.

A gust of wind snaked down the back of Sebastian’s parka, and he shivered as he walked hurriedly to the door, rapping his knuckles against the wooden surface.

Crawford opened it, wearing a pair of low-slung basketball shorts and a snug muscle shirt.

“Holy shit. Aren’t youfreezing?” Sebastian asked as Luke stepped back so he could come inside. “It’s like fifteen degrees out. And dropping.”

“Nope.” Crawford closed the door behind him. “I’m comfy.”

The entryway was really part of the living room, with stairs going up that ran along one wall to the left. There was a mat for shoes, so Sebastian kicked his off and placed them on it, realizing Crawford’s feet were bare.

Sebastian had noticed before that his body ran hot butJesus. The man was actually insane.

“Well, c’mon in,” Crawford said.

Sebastian hung up his coat on a peg by the door and glanced around. There was a double-sided glass fireplace dividing the living and dining rooms. Wooden built-ins ran along the walls, the TV mounted on one of them, and two big leather couches were arranged in an L-shape around a square wooden coffee table.

“Are these the original hardwood floors?” Sebastian asked.

Crawford, who had been standing there staring at the TV where they were doing a pre-game analysis of the team, glanced over. “Huh? Yeah. I refinished them.”

“You did the work yourself?”

“Yeah. Hired out the exterior shit, plus the electrical and some of the big plumbing jobs because I didn’t want to accidentally burn the place down or flood it or whatever, but I pretty much did the rest of the inside.”

“Off-season projects?”

Crawford nodded toward the couch facing the TV. “C’mon, have a seat.”

Sebastian sat.

“You want something to drink? I’ve got water, beer … uhh, that’s about it, to be honest. Except milk. I’ve got that too.”

“Uhh,” Sebastian said. “A beer would be nice.”

Crawford disappeared into the back of the house, then returned carrying a beer and a bowl of popcorn. He handed off the beer, then took a seat at the other end of the couch. “Want some popcorn?” he asked, holding out the bowl. “Oh, it’s pickle popcorn, just so you know.”

Sebastian made a face and cracked open his beer. “No thank you. That soundsdisgusting.”

“You don’t like pickles?” Crawford gave him a look like he wasn’t sure what the fuck was wrong with him.