As usual, Reese’s expression remained neutral while his cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink. “Keep dreamin’, Navy boy.”
“Oh, I will. Trust me.”
With a laugh, he sauntered down the hall to his bathroom. It took him six minutes to complete his task of showering and getting dressed. When he returned to the kitchen, he found Reese on the back deck, flipping the hamburger patties.
“That was fast,” Reese said when he stepped inside, pulling the glass door closed.
“I’m efficient like that. What time is it, anyway?”
“Two thirty.” Reese skimmed a hand over his hair, his fingers finding the green paint. “You mind if I borrow some of your hot water so I can get this shit outta my hair?”
“Go for it.” Brantley nodded toward the hallway. “Guest bath’s stocked.”
Reese’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “You stock your guest bath, but you can’t buy a couch?”
Smiling at the jab, Brantley cocked an eyebrow. “Need me to wash your back?”
The barked laugh followed Reese as he spun around and made his way down the hall.
While Reese did his thing, Brantley cut up an onion and a tomato, chopped some lettuce, and grabbed a couple of pieces of cheese as well as a variety of condiments. By the time his friend had returned, hair still wet and his feet bare, Brantley had pulled the patties off the grill and set them on the island.
Without a word, the two of them prepped their burgers before digging in. Reese took a seat on one of the barstools while Brantley propped himself against the kitchen counter. As was the way of hungry men, neither of them said a word as they ate. Brantley downed one burger and a single patty without bread while Reese finished off one and a half before sighing contentedly.
“Man, next time I’m in the mood for a good burger, I’m gonna be on your doorstep.”
“You’re welcome anytime, just bring the meat.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he smirked.
“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a dirty mind?”
Feigning innocence, Brantley blanked his expression. “What ever do you mean?”
Reese rolled his eyes, then got to his feet. He walked around the island with his plate, flipped on the water.
“I’ll get that,” Brantley argued.
“You cooked, I’ll clean,” Reese countered.
“Is that right?”
“It’s called being a good houseguest.”
“So now you’re a guest?”
“Okay, friend. Whatever. Drink your beer, Navy boy.”
With his attention on his task, Reese didn’t notice the way Brantley was eyeing him. Of course, Brantley knew it was a wasted effort, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. From the moment he’d first seen Reese, the man had caught his attention. And since the morning when Brantley had intruded on Reese’s breakfast with JJ, they’d spent quite a bit of time together. A solid month had passed since that day, and their friendship was growing, almost as though they enjoyed one another’s company.
Truth was, Brantley did enjoy spending time with Reese. The guy was easy to be around. It required little effort, which was a plus as far as he was concerned. The problem was, Brantley couldn’t deny the intense physical attraction. One-sided, of course, but there, nonetheless. Had Reese been interested, there was no doubt they’d already have been naked together and likely tested every flat surface in his house for sturdiness. And at moments like this, when his body hardened with the urge to touch, to taste, to explore, boundaries meant very little.
“Expectin’ someone?” Brantley asked when he noticed Reese’s gaze continuing to dart to the back door.
“Just figured Cyrus’ll show up and chase me off with a stick.”
The mental image made Brantley chuckle. “Cyrus is harmless.”
Granted, Reese wasn’t aware that Cyrus enjoyed getting a rise out of him. He was pulling off the jealous lover perfectly, despite Brantley’s repeated requests for him to cut it out. It was a wasted effort, but Cyrus didn’t seem convinced.
“So, you two a thing?”
It probably shouldn’t have made him feel good that Reese was asking the question. Especially since he’d asked it before.
“Not a thing,” he said, leaving it at that. He knew it wouldn’t be wise to inform Reese that he and Cyrus were fucking. Or that the last couple of times Cyrus had been there, Brantley had fantasized the man was Reese beneath him. Yeah, he’d be keeping that to himself, thank you very much.
“Does he know that?”
Grabbing his beer, Brantley moved around the island so he could look at Reese while he finished up the dishes. “Are you jealous, Tavoularis?”
Reese didn’t look up, but Brantley noticed the smile. “Not even a little.”
“No?”
When those pretty brown eyes lifted, Brantley swore he saw a hint of desire glittering there.
“Hey, I’m not one to judge,” Brantley teased, holding up his hands. “You wanna admire this, who am I to stop you?”
Another eye roll was Reese’s response.
