Page 90 of Two for Charging

“Sure, it was.” Phil clapped him on the shoulder. “That was a damn good save. You’ll be making highlight reels all week.”

“I’d rather a W,” Chris said with a grimace and turned to rummage in his bag. He wore the underwear with the geometric ice cream cones, the same ones he’d worn to Leonora’s shop the day Luca decided to abandon all reason and offer to coach him in bed.

Thank God he had to change or Luca would have to spend all of dinner with Chris’s family thinking about how Chris had stood almost entirely nude on a pedestal, while Luca watched and salivated over him.

He was a bad friend.

As soon as they stepped outside the locker room, Luca heard their voices from several feet away.

“…should’ve gotten a trade to the Wyverne when he could have. Now he’s locked in with these losers for three more years…”

“Dad, not everyone wants to spend their whole life in Montreal.”

“Chris does.”

“How would you know? Have you asked him?”

“I don’t have to ask him; he’s my son. I know what he wants!”

Chris sighed and muttered, “Here we go,” so quietly only Luca heard. He pasted on a smile as they drew near. “Hi, guys!”

Chris’s mom turned first. A smile lit up her face, and Luca could see the resemblance in the deep grooves of her dimples. She was shorter and stouter than both her sons, but Chris had her eyes and her cheeks.

“Baby!” she cried. “You were so good!”

“Thanks, Mom.” He bent down to hug her.

Chris’s dad snorted. “If he were so good, his team would be celebrating now.”

“It’s not his fault their goalie is so shit,” Matty said. “Uh, sorry, Chris.”

Ignoring everything he’d said, Chris turned to Matty with open arms and gave him a long hug as well.

“Don’t I get a hello?”

“Hi, Dad.” The last hug, Chris kept the briefest. “You all remember Luca, right?”

“Of course!” Chris’s mom beamed at him. “So glad you could join us again. And can I just say, thank you for taking our son shopping.”

As if drawn there by magnetism, Luca’s eyes wandered across Chris’s body.

The black suit had been perfect, but the gray one was sinful. It accentuated the breadth of Chris’s shoulders and the taper of his waist. It highlighted the curve of his ass and the thickness of his legs. The emerald shirt brought out the creamy paleness of his skin.

Luca would need a cold shower before the end of the night.

How was he right back where he had started, thirsting over his unavailable friend and roommate, now with the added knowledge of what Chris’s big hands felt like, how his plush lips looked wrapped around Luca’s cock? How had he made his own situation worse?

Next time he called home, he’d bite the bullet and ask Nonna if she knew which saint he could pray to for this; he was going to go insane otherwise.

Chris’s dad grunted in displeasure. “What’s wrong with your old suits? All this fancy NHL money you keep throwing around, better make sure you save some of it for when you’re my age.”

“You know I have an accountant, Dad,” Chris said calmly.

“Accountants. There’s another word for a guy trying to scam you out of what you earn.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about money, so it’s the best option for now. Are we ready to go?”

The ride to the restaurant continued in the same vein, with Luca squeezed into the middle of the family van, Chris on one side and Matty on the other. Up front, Chris’s mother heaped him with praise for his performance, and his father criticized every life choice he’d made up to and including which team had drafted him.