Page 47 of Doing Life

But now Lance had everything necessary to spend the night. If he didn’t need it, fine, but if he did, he had it.

He thought maybe he was going to use it. Even if they didn’t have sex. Even if they didn’t try, it would be nice to sleep together.

He thought he was ready for that. To hold Sloan while he slept, and to let himself be held for a little while. Hopefully he knew Sloan’s house well enough to get up and go pee in the middle of the night if he had to.

But he knew if he didn’t, Abby would help. Hell, Sloan would help.

Those were the important things after all.

“If you want to stop at the store on the way back, I can buy something for dessert.”

“I have a cherry pie in the freezer. I thought that would work. I mean, we’re already going to be a mess.”

“Sounds great.” There was no one else he’d rather be a mess with. “You enjoying the bubbles?”

Sloan’s laugh was warm, happy. “You know what? I’m totally getting us one of these for the house, the one outside of Santa Fe.”

He’d heard that“us”. “What’s it look like?”

“It’s an adobe. Not fancy. One story, a little rambling. I’m on three acres. I’m not keeping more animals because I just don’t have time, but there’s plenty of room to put in a hot tub or an infinity pool or something, you know? Plenty of room for dogs to run. I really like it though. It’s comfortable. Homey. Simple though. But I think a doggy door and an infinity pool, those are going to be my next two big salvos.”

“I can get behind that.” Was he really talking aboutmoving up with Sloan when he was out of training with Abby and all?

Maybe he was. Sloan was sure campaigning hard.

Shit, he didn’t know what to do. Some days he wanted to wind his butt and scratch his watch.

A couple of hours later, he was sitting in Sloan’s little rented house, smelling spaghetti sauce and garlic bread, and willing himself not to drool.

Maybe he would take leftovers to Will out of the kindness of his heart. Because everyone deserved to eat something that smelled that good.

“Supper is almost ready,” Sloan told him. “You want that trash bag?”

Lance had to chuckle. “Nah. But I’ll put a napkin in my lap and my shirt collar.”

“Fair enough. Come sit at the table, honey.” Sloan didn’t help him make his way over. He let Abby do it, and that was too cool. It was great to feel as if he knew his way around Sloan’s house, and that he knew Sloan never moved anything, that Sloan was keyed into his needs.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, I would say grab a beer, but I got wine. Now, I did get a couple of those stemless wineglasses. I figure that way you would worry less about dumping it over.”

“What kind of wine?”

“A good little chianti. The guy at the beer and wine place recommended it.”

Lance snorted as he sat, letting Abby go lie down on her bed at the corner of the room. “You mean you don’t drink Franzia anymore?”

The sound of Sloan dishing up was broken by soft laughter. “A woman I work with at the Santa Fe office? Her brother owns a winery. I’ve learned a lot from them.”

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that Sloanhad left a whole life behind in Santa Fe to come down to be here with him. It was at once weird and also super cool. He felt… less guilty today and more wanted.

“That’s cool. I’ll have to see how it goes. I might want a beer or tea anyway.”

“Sure. That’s cool. But this wine will go really well with the food.”

“Goes with garlic, huh?”

“Hell, yes. The Italians kind of invented that gig.” Sloan put a plate in front of him. “I put the spaghetti in the middle with the sauce. Salad on the three o’clock because you said a bowl is harder. And garlic bread up at twelve.”

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