Page 30 of Brett and Rowdy
“I do love the way you think, darlin’.” He might need three shakes.
That had been pretty fucking amazing, and he sure as shit wasn’t twenty anymore.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, darlin’.”
Brett turned around to see Rowdy standing in the doorway to his kitchen, Barney at his side, cane in hand. Barney wasn’t suited up yet, and Rowdy just wore a pair of boxer-briefs.
Damn. He looked amazing, even with the little bruises and beard burn from their amazing night of acrobatics.
Hell, maybe because of it.
“Morning.” He grinned, because he liked how Rowdy looked in his house.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”
“Cool. What do you take in it?” The few times they’d gone to the Huddle or Waffle House back in the day, they were both teenagers who were drinking it black and occasionally smoking clove cigarettes.
Which were illegal now or some shit.
“Splash of milk if you got it, otherwise black is fine.” Rowdy stood there, and Brett realized that he needed to get Rowdy toa chair, so he grabbed a mug, poured another cup, then headed over to help Rowdy to the table.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Didn’t it feel amazing to see Rowdy sitting all gentle like?
“A little tender, are you?”
“Shut up.” Rowdy grinned at him, though, not looking the slightest bit ashamed. “I think you have chapped part of my dick. You know that thing where it’s all bent over and shit? You may have given me that.”
Feeling sexual as all get out, Brett shrugged. “I’ll use the other hand next time.”
One of those dark eyebrows winged up. “Oh? You gonna straighten me right out?”
“Well, now,” he dared to tease. “Out of the two of us, I am the one who is the least straight…”
“Bullshit.” Rowdy shook his head. “Now, I know that you slept with Vicki Terrance back in the day. You are not a gold-star gay.” Those dark eyes rolled—literally, and that was weird as hell. “So stop with the dick measuring. It’s too early in the morning, and besides that, I’ve measured yours, and I approve.”
Man, Brett wanted to be an ass about it. He wanted to poke and bitch, but as Rowdy kept saying, it was twenty years ago. Who slept with who twenty years ago when they were broken up wasn’t really any of his business.
Ashley had been a damn good friend. She had just caught Rowdy at a point where he’d been needing and…
Well shit.
Brett guessed that he hadn’t been available. He’d been pissed, he’d said some shit he hadn’t meant and some that he did, and he’d thrown the first punch.
Man, that was an aggravating thought. That they’d lost twenty years for what?
Because when he’d gone to apologize, he found out Rowdy had to dip his wick and catch somebody pregnant. He had thought that Rowdy was smarter than that, though. They’d even talked about it once upon a time?—
“Hey, where’d you go, huh? You got all quiet.”
“Oh, I was just thinking.”
Rowdy blew a hard breath out. “That’s bad for you.”
