Page 45 of A Hard Sell

“I missed yesterday and today. I do better sticking to routines, not letting the bad habits creep back in.”

“That’s why I prefer to not let them creep out in the first place.”

Thomas smiled. “Glad that works for you.”

“I don’t know if it works. It’s just how I’ve always done it.”

“I would say it does.”

Luka flushed as he swallowed his next bite.

They sat chatting until they were finished, laughing about Hanna terrifying the building manager and the near disaster with the wedding chairs, which seemed funny now with some distance and a bellyful of ice cream. Thomas thanked Luka for dessert again, Luka noticing that he even scraped the liquid from the bottom of his cup and licked it off his spoon.

Luka was staring at Thomas’ mouth again.

“Good work today,” Thomas said, reaching to collect Luka’s empty cup from him.

Luka shook himself. “You too. We did good.”

“We sure did. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

He watched Thomas climb out of his car, waiting until he vanished through the front doors of his building.

He could still taste the ice cream. Good day.

Really good day.

Chapter Twelve

Thanks

Later that week, they were huddled around Luka’s computer, watching some rough cuts of the commercial. It was a bit strange, editing footage of themselves on their ‘date’. It was only about a two-second shot in the current version, but damn, they looked good together.

Finn stuck his head in the door as Luka was clicking ‘send’ on the update for Ilona. “Moreno! What are you up to for Thanksgiving?”

Luka leaned back in his chair. “My mom’s trying to get me to come for the weekend, but I’d love to have a good reason not to.” He had put in an appearance last year, and felt like he had earned a year off from another visit consisting of relentless questions about why he was still single and refereeing spats between his mom and sister.

“Then you’re in luck! Come to my place for dinner on Saturday. You too, Wolf. Rory and I are cooking.”

“Lovely! I’m in. Thank you.” Luka was already composing the text to his mother in his head. She’d get over it…by Christmas, hopefully.

“Thomas?” Finn lifted an eyebrow.

Thomas nodded once. “What can I bring?”

* * * *

Luka climbed out of the cab with great care, an apple pie balanced in his hands and a bag of rolls tucked under his arm. He had made three separate trips to the grocery store and spent the entire day making this piefrom scratch.He was not risking it on a subway ride.

Another cab pulled up right behind him. His heart gave a flutter when Thomas’ broad shoulders emerged. Thomas held a pumpkin pie with one splayed hand and a small potted plant with the other. He smiled when he saw Luka. He was wearing dark gray trousers and a black polo under a matching blazer, and Luka was having trouble deciding where to look first—the way the soft-looking fabric was melting across his pecs, or the long swath of neck and chest visible where the buttons were not done up.

“Hi,” he said as Thomas approached him. “I like your shirt.”

“Thanks. It’s new.”

“It’s very nice. Looks soft.”

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