Page 33 of Grind
They both froze, lost in what they should do, until Frank mumbled, “Ah, it was from Ezra.”
Shane’s brows lifted. “Someone has expensive taste.”
Frank’s gaze darted to Ezra, who cleared his throat. The belt was actually custom-made, but nobody needed to know how much attention he put into this final gift meant to remind Frank of their brief and unusual relationship. And now? He didn’t know where he stood with Frank anymore. And he hated it. “I chose it because it reminds me of his tattoos,” he said, not wanting to discuss money.
“It’s the best one I have,” Frank said, offering Ezra a smile that had his chest going hot. But before he did something he might later regret, Ros cut in.
“We got some takeout for everyone. Wanna come to ours?”
Real food! Even if it was some shitty chain restaurant pizza, at least it had been made fresh, not reheated.
“That’s so nice of you. I’d love to get to know you two better,” Ezra said, ignoring the fact that Shane watched him with a half-smirk. Maybe he knew of Frank’s visits after all?
“Yeah, but you made the stew… I don’t want your work to go to waste,” Frank said, glancing toward the house with an unreadable expression, but Ezra was intent on chatting to Ros and seeing if they’d get along. Maybe he could even give him some gym pointers, because his calves were slightly too slim in proportion to the rest of his body.
“Come on, it’s just pre-prepared stew. It would be a crime to forgo fresh food to eat something that probably has enough preservatives to not get moldy for a week on the counter.”
Shane started laughing and pushed at Frank’s bicep. “He’s got you there! Come on, we’ve got rotisserie chicken and roast potatoes from that new French place Ros likes.”
Ros’s smile widened and he paced in place to his dog’s happy bark. “Oh, and the sourdough baguettes with wild mushrooms and gruyère cheese? Di-vine!”
Ezra’s mouth watered. It looked like Ros was a man of much finer tastes than his surroundings would suggest.
“Of course we’ll come,” Ezra said and sent Frank a bright smile. “Ilovea bit of Gruyère as a treat!”
Ros grinned and whistled at his dog, turning to the van. “Well, today, you can have as much as you want.”
Not really, but Ezra wouldn’t argue when there was real food on the line. So maybe it was on the fattier side, and the baguettes were carb-bombs, but they’d be likely healthier than the processed junk he’d been eating since arriving here.
“Cheese is cheese. Just feels wasteful,” Frank grumbled as if he hadn’t brought Ezra a Rolex less than a week ago. The same Rolex that still sat on Ezra’s left wrist, reminding him that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t starve.
“Quality food isnevera waste,” Ezra told Frank, meeting his gaze. “And Gruyère offers a completely different experience than Brie, or Port Salut, or Gouda, to name a few. There’s a reason people came up with so many varieties.”
Frank raised his hands in defeat and grabbed his T-shirt off the fence. “As long as you guys don’t mind I’m sweaty after training. Oh, and Ros?” Ros turned back, already opening the door to his van. “Ezra can’t really access his clothes right now. Can you lend him some of yours? You seem to be of similar size.”
It was… actually pretty sweet of him to inquire, even if Ezra had way more muscle on him than Ros. Still, Shane’s partner was just a bit shorter than him, so maybe some of his more oversized clotheswouldfit? Joggers or a T-shirt that hadn’t been given away as free merchandise?
A smile stretched Ezra’s lips as he looked at Ros, and relief filled his heart when the guy nodded.
Maybe life was taking a turn for the better?
Chapter 11
Frank
Ezrawasbeautifullikea prince made of ice. His skin might not be pale, but its olive coloring was cool, and the dark brown hair fell onto his nape as if it were light as snow. Only his eyes shone like two candles, torturing Frank with their judgment.
Nothing Frank did was good enough. His food was subpar. His home—a ruin. And yet, despite all the snide comments Frank couldn’t help but desire Ezra so fervently he didn’t feel at ease spending too much time in the same room. He couldn’t let himself accept the offer Ezra had extended to him that first night, not when it meant using Ezra’s terrible situation against him, and especially not after he'd learned how far below him everything in Frank’s life was.
It was obvious Ezra hated being here and despite trying to hide it, every now and then his distaste showed in one way or another. Hiding him here was like stabling an award-winning Arabian stallion in a dirty old pigsty with holes in the roof, but what was Frank to do when that was all he had to offer?
He’d worried the prolonged stay at the junkyard would transform Ezra’s distaste into loathing, but when the careful smile frozen on the handsome features melted at the sight of puppies, Frank’s chest filled with warmth too. He’d seen the smile Ezra had for them before—during their trip at the lake and on the rare occasions Ezra truly relaxed around him—so seeing it now felt like a glimmer of hope for a future where the two of them learned to coexist in peace.
“I’m being ripped apart!” Ezra shrieked, rolling to the floor as the litter of Rottweilers climbed all over him while their parents watched with the remaining three dogs.
For once he didn’t care about his shirt getting wrinkled or his pants becoming a new home for dog hair. Frank never wanted a puppy more than right now. Maybe then he’d see more of those lovely smiles around his home.
At least for as long as Ezra stayed, which was only as long as was absolutely necessary.
