Page 7 of Drunk Dialing

“Absolutely. I can’t wait.” Treat was altogether too tickled for his own good.

They sat down, and Jake was tempted to kick Treat under the table, just out of meanness. Not only was he stuck here because he’d been a fool, but now he had to put up with candles and weird little hearts on the table and shit. At the fucking Barn Door.

He had no idea these folks even knew about Valentine’s Day.

“They have a heart-shaped fillet. That’s totally what we’re getting.”

“We are not!” He shook his head. “We aren’t Valentines.”

“No? You sure about that, honey?”

“Stop it. Don’t mess with me. We never have been. We’ve just been?—”

“Only because I went along with you, Jake. You would go on and on about friends with benefits, and I reckoned you’d figure it out at some point.”

God knew he had, hadn’t he? He ached for Treat. He wanted those hard hands on his skin. He wanted Treat’s mouth, his cock, his laughter, and his stories.

He didn’t even hardly remember why they’d broken up—except that wasn’t true, was it? A year ago, two years ago, he’d been riding high, and he had been scared to settle down, to lose his edge.

And Treat was a rancher, not a rodeo man. He was all sunk into the earth.

He was a dipshit rodeo man. Nothing more, nothing less.

“So humor me with the steak.”

“You’re buying,” he snapped.

Treat’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but he just nodded. “I am at that.”

Okay, that was bitchy. He wasn’t a bitch. He was a bit of a psycho, but not a bitch. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jake. I know this is awkward. But I want us to have a good night, okay?”

He nodded because Treat was here. And Treat wanted to be here with him.

“Cool.” Treat gave him an arch look. “You can have your own steak, though.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it. Asshat.”

“Don’t push me, Jake.” Treat’s chuckle was low and sexy as hell. “Or I’ll order you the cannoli and watch while you suck it.”

“That’s got a downside for me? Are you sure?” He was not going to get hard. Not.

“Hmmm. Maybe not. Though this is the Barn Door.”

“Yeah. Not appropriate. I know.” Treat made him want inappropriate things.

“Later.” That look was going to burn him alive. if he made it through supper without coming in his pants…

What the hell was he doing here? He knew that they were oil and water. He knew they just ended up fighting every time. He knew that he was living in his travel trailer while Treat was eating sixty-dollar steaks.

Okay, that helped kill the boner.

“What’s the matter?” Treat peered at him over the menu. “You’re scowling.”

“Am I?” Shit. He was so fucking confused. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to piss you off with the steak.” Treat touched his leg under the table with one booted toe.

---