Page 42 of The Arrangement

“JV benchwarmer?” he guessed, and I burst out laughing so hard tears were streaming down my cheeks within seconds.

“Oh my God, no, but that’s so much better. Second-string shortstop. Luckily, he didn’t get a lot of playing time, and all the guys on the team werereallygood at catching.” I gestured to the drive we’d been previously angling toward, and we resumed walking. “You ever play a sport in high school or college?”

“Played lacrosse at the prep academy I went to. I didn’t, uh, go to college. My family wasn’t too happy about that.” I could see the dark cloud reforming above him and slowly shadowing his face.

“That sounds like a 'them' problem. And no offense, but I never in a million years would have guessed you didn’t go to college.”

He jerked and looked at me. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “First, it’s your life, not theirs. Live it how you want. Second, JD, you’re likeridiculouslysmart.”

“What makes you say that?”

Both of my eyebrows shot up. That sounded a lot like he didn’t believe me. What the hell? “Seriously? Uh, where do I even begin? Your vocabulary, you do mathin your head, you spout off random facts all the time, I swear I haven’t seen you use a measuring tape once, or… or… You just are, damn it,” I finished with an indignant huff.

“Whoa there, relax. Take it easy.”

“Donottell me to cool my grits,” I snarled back, mostly good-naturedly. How could the man not believe he was intelligent? They didn’t exactly let dunces lead Urban Search and Rescue units.

“I’m sorry, your what now?”

The question pushed the troubling thoughts aside, and I gave him a wide grin that for some reason made him look nervous. “Oh, my sweet, naïve Yankee. I’m about to introduce you tothe savory goodness that is shrimp and grits.” I stepped close enough that our chests touched, looked into his coastal blue eyes, and dropped my voice. “I promise you’ll love them, sir. And if you don’t, I’m sure you can come up with a way for me to make it up to you.” I stepped back as casually as my semi would let me and resumed walking toward Bay Breeze Cafe.

“Fucking hell, Marc,” JD hissed behind me. I couldn’t help but smirk. Typically, I hated losing, but this once I didn’t think I’d mind all that much. It was almost a shame that I was positive I wouldn’t.

Chapter 22

James

Dinner at Ravenite Pizzeria last night started off tense, but thanks in no small part to Mitch and Marc, the four of us eventually relaxed enough to have a good time. It seemed my little brother’s love affair with pizza and his weird obsession with sour cream and marinara was alive and well. And apparently now something Marc couldn’t live without. It also became glaringly, unavoidably obvious that Marc was basically the same age as my brother, which was… not something I wanted to think about.

“You’re thinking about it again,” Marc accused as he hip-checked me aside to get to the coffeepot.

“Am not,” I argued, hiding behind taking a sip and willing my face not to give me away.

“You totally are.” He finished topping off his third cup and turned to lean against the counter so he could face me. “I still don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like someone putting brown sugar in grits or something.”

Oh, thank God, he was talking about the gross dipping mixture for the mozzarella sticks.

Marc paused in the process of taking another sip to eye me dubiously over the rim of his cup. “Please don’t tell me that’s something you’ve done. If word gets around that I’ve been harboring a Yank who would commit such a travesty, I’ll be run out of town before I even reopen the shop.”

Smiling, I stepped forward and gently lowered his mug away from his face. “Easy, baby boy. I only had grits for the first time yesterday, and my man made sure I had them right.”

“Damn right he did,” Marc crooned, pure delight brightening his eyes as he angled up for a kiss, which I happily gave him.

I kissed him until his smile melted into a moan and pressed him against the counter. He skimmed his hands beneath the hem of my shirt, then tucked them into my back pockets and squeezed my ass, pulling me firmly against him. Not to be outdone, I slipped a hand between us to stroke his hardening cock in his unforgiving swim trunks. His gasp was music to my ears, and the reflexive tightening of his fingers on my ass made my dick jump.

“As much as I would like to continue this, we don’t really have time. We still have to pick up your brother and Mitch.”

I groaned and nipped at the side of his neck, though I stopped stroking him in favor of wrapping my arms around him. When his arms circled around me as well, it was as if whatever invisible string had been holding me up relaxed. I rested my head on his shoulder and trusted him to hold my weight as I leaned into him.

“Be honest with me,” he whispered, running one hand up and down my back while carding his fingers through my hair with the other.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this peaceful or cared for. Is this what it meant to let someone support you? It was alittle fucked up that it felt like such a foreign concept to me. But this wasnice. This was better than nice. This was everything.

“JD, did you hear me?”

I grunted in response. I liked it better when he called me James. It felt more natural. Besides, “JD” was the friend, the player, the soldier. I wanted to be more than that to Marc.