Page 32 of The Barn: Frost and Q
“Hmmm. Well, I will just say that you two need to talk about it. Okay, so I want to leave you some open concept with the kitchen, so how about like this?” Carson paced it again, and he got the idea. “This will give you a king and two nightstands. You have plenty of storage space since you’ve been sleeping in the closet, and you can still crawl in there when you need to make the world go away.”
Some kind of tightness in his chest eased. “You’re a good man, Carson. No matter what they say about you down at the jail.”
“Thanks.” Carson came back to sit, tapping out some numbers on his phone. “Okay. Let’s set up the board.”
“What do I get if I win?” he asked again, grinning some.
“How about I do all of this on my dime?”
“Deal.” He could take that bet, and he was so kicking Carson’s ass. The man had way more expensive tastes than Quentin did, anyway.
Ten
Frost cracked his neck, glad that run was over.
He’d taken a fancy-ass client back to Victoria, Canada, then gone down to California to pick up a friend of theirs, the owners, who also donated a shit-ton of money to special events at the club.
Ethan had rocked on the way up, but the weather had sucked. And on the way to Victoria, the client he would rather never see again had bitched about everything.
Ugh.
He’d spent the night in Cali, had a few drinks, relaxed, and chafed all the time about getting back to Quentin.
They were gaining ground. The last thing he wanted to do was to give Q too much time to think.
So, he hoisted his go bag over his shoulder and ran the four flights of stairs, needing to make up for the PT he hadn’t done yesterday.
He hit the top, proud that he was only breathing a tiny bit hard, and he headed to Quentin’s door, knocking with his foot so he could hold his bag and use his other hand to text down for some food. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was almost suppertime.
The door buzzed, popping open, and he grinned, knowing Q had seen him on the camera. “Hey, baby, I’m back—Wow. Look at you.” Quentin was standing next to his wheelchair, maybe wobbling a little, but holding out both arms to him.
Not leaning.
“Come kiss me, babe.”
“Hell, yes.” He dropped his bag with a thump, then rushed over to take Quentin into his arms. He gave his husband that kiss, really letting him have it. Not holding back.
“Mmmm.” Quentin wrapped both arms around his neck. “Good.”
“Uh-huh. Fuck, I missed you, baby.”
“I missed you so much.” Q beamed at him. “Come sit on the couch and tell me. Did you eat?”
“I was ordering supper. Let’s sit, and I’ll finish.”
“Cool.” Q moved pretty slowly, but he left the chair. When he got up to get the food, Frost would bring it over. He never wanted Q to think he needed to leave behind any assistive device in order to impress him.
They sat, and he pulled Q into his arms. “What should we eat?”
“I called down. They had a pot roast on tonight, or salmon.”
“Pot roast then?” He did love his meat and potatoes, and he knew Q loved the potatoes and gravy and carrots.
“Sounds great. So how was the trip?”
Frost groaned. “Oh my God. DeVries was a dick. The booze was cheap. The sheets sucked. I’m a shit pilot. Blah blah. Ethan is all settled, and the subs are vying for his favors.”
“Good for him. I know he loves to be courted for his strong spanking arm.”
