Page 38 of Refraction

“They are delicious, garlicky and lovely. I hope you enjoy them.”

“I will.”

Truthfully, he could go for a nice, juicy steak. And after his shoot tomorrow, if he got home at a reasonable hour, he just might ask Tucker to take him out for one. Or a few bites of one at least. Something about that cowboy made him hungry.

He popped the other half of the olive in his mouth and savored the salty flavor. “So I had a pretty good handle on what most of what I saw the other night was about, but you didn’t talk much about the little gray one.Hope?”

“That one’s at all of his shows. It’s not for sale. He painted it… ten years ago? Fifteen? A long time.”

At every show. So it was what? A good luck charm? Some kind of talisman? There were a lot of demons in that gallery, after all. “Hm. I don’t guess either of you wants to tell me what it means?”

“I haven’t asked, to be honest. Every artist has something, don’t they? That’s a tiny thing for him to need.” Marge chuckled softly. “I guess I just never wondered. Sometimes I think he’s still a little boy in my head, and this is his touchstone.”

“He is still a boy in some ways.” Calvin shook his head. He’d known the man for a couple of days. He really had no basis for an observation like that, even if he believed it. “I mean, it just seems like that, I don’t know.”

“I’m not that innocent, y’all. Shrimp is done. What else do you need? The bread basket and the veggies?”

“Don’t you love it when people talk about you behind your back, only it’s kind of right in front of your face?” He chuckled and leaned up to kiss Tucker’s fuzzy chin. He was digging the thick stubble; he wasn’t as sure about the emerging beard. “We were talking about that tiny little gray piece,Hope. I wanted to know what it means to you.”

“I love how the light is pushing through the corner, how it’s a spark.”

Would that be Tucker’s answer if they weren’t here? Would Tucker say the same thing if they were in bed together, naked in the dark?

Well, he would just have to find out, wouldn’t he? He’d play along for now, but he wasn’t going to let Tucker get too comfortable with that response. “Mmm. Yes, the spark. Of course.”

Tucker pinked, then winked at him. “Do you have a busy week coming up? I’d like to show you the studio space.”

“I’ll know tomorrow. I’ve got the 2(X)IST shoot, and that will run at least a day, could bleed over into Tuesday. And Michael will let me know what’s coming up next.” He shrugged. “I’ve never really asked for my calendar in advance, but… maybe I should for a while, huh?” Maybe he should? Hell yes, he should. How else was he going to make plans with the cowboy? “I want to see it. And you should come along on one of my shoots sometime.” That was possible, right? He’d ask Michael.

“Oh, I’d like that. I’ve never watched a photo shoot. What’s a 2(X)IST?”

He gave Tucker his best flirty smile. “It’s hot underwear, baby. What else?”

Tucker’s eyes went blisteringly heated, the throb of naked desire making him flush.

“Boys, be good. No longing glances in my dining room.”

“Sorry.” Jesus Christ, he wasn’t sorry at all. Still, it seemed like a good idea to look anywhere but at Tucker at the moment. “Um. You wanted bread? I’ll go get it.”

He scooted past Tucker and into the kitchen. There was a basket of different little bread, so he grabbed it.

“Marge says she wants the oil and the shallow bowl with spices and garlic.” Tucker came in, wrapped one hand around his hip, and pulled him in close. “Kiss me, honey. Please.”

That required no thought at all. He went up on his toes, and his lips found Tucker’s like there was nowhere else they belonged. That “please” sent a bolt of lightning up his spine every time. It was offered over so freely, without any artifice.

Tucker sighed for him, tongue sliding in to taste him, to lap at him, and he answered with his own.

He was a little surprised to discover that the rational part of his brain still had any hold over him at all, but it did, and it reminded him about the basket of bread in his fingers and the nice lady in the living room. Calvin put a hand on Tucker’s chest and stepped back, breaking contact gently. “You’re… going to have to hold that thought.”

Breathless already. None of this made any fucking sense.

“I know. I just wanted to taste, to say thank you for coming to meet her. Hell, I just wanted you.”

“Every second.” Sending Tucker home alone tonight wasn’t going to sit well with either of them, was it? “She’s sweet. She loves you so much. I’m glad you invited me. Or she invited me.” He laughed, not quite able to escape the pull of Tucker’s eyes.

“Come on. We’ll have supper and visit, and then… can I bring you to the hotel, or do you have to get ready to work?”

“I need to go home tonight.” But he didn’t want to. “I can’t be all puffy-eyed in the morning. I have to sleep. And the car is coming for me at seven.”

“I get it. You’ll tell me when I can see you again, and I’ll see you.” God, it felt good, how much Tucker wanted him. “I’ll just have to work until I see you again.”

“Could be Wednesday….” He knew that was apologetic, even though Tucker didn’t seem to need that from him. “But I’ll text.”

“Good deal. Come on. Bread. Oil. Weird little garlic plate.”

“Plate’s over there.” Calvin scooped up the oil in his free hand. He’d let himself have a couple of the shrimp, a little bit of wine, and see if he could get some of Tucker’s other embarrassing childhood antics out of Marge.

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