Carlo’s dark eyes before his face went smooth again. Garrett vowed right then that The Little Shit was history. No one hurt Carlo.
“Sounds like an ass. I thought you wanted to settle down. What do you see in a guy like that?”
Surprisingly, a ghost of a smile crossed Carlo’s face at this.
“He’s hot, passionate, very charismatic, and ambitious. He’s a lot like you, actually.”
Screw that.
“Except that I would never treat you like that.”
“Really, Garrett? All those men? You do it every day.”
“Not to you.”
“The situation is not so different.”
Garrett didn’t know what to say to that. What a shit comparison. Carlo was nothing like Garrett’s exes. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Anyone who couldn’t see it didn’t deserve him for a second.
“Anyway,” Carlo said, “he does care for me, in his own way. Sometimes I think he cares more than he knows. One day he’ll realize it.”
He looked up, straight into Garrett’s eyes.
Everything Garrett had been about to say was swallowed up by that look. It seeped into his soul. It spread through the dark cracks and crevasses with the warmth of aged whiskey. It was a look that had all the answers, and he couldn’t remember the question.
Carlo pulled out of his grasp and finished laying out the place settings as if nothing had happened.
Garrett sat down and tried to work out where the conversation had gone sideways and how he should get it back on track. The only thing he could come up with was, “I don’t like him.”
Carlo laughed. “No?”
He sounded truly amused, and this truly annoyed Garrett, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He let Carlo serve the pasta while he mulled over his options.
“You’re eating. I’m flattered.”
The words snapped him out of his own head. He looked down at his half-eaten food.
“You served food. I was hungry. What did you expect me to do?”
“It’s not up to your usual standards.”
“Why do you put down your own cooking like that?”
“You’ve just been extra…finicky lately.”
Yeah, “finicky.” That was a nice way to put it. He knew what Carlo was getting at, but he wasn’t here to discuss his own growing list of idiosyncrasies.
“You’re a good cook, Carlo.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, “You know I’d eat anything you offered me.”
His voice came out lower and huskier than he intended. Shit. Had he just loaded that last sentence with innuendo? The slow flush that crawled up Carlo’s cheekbones told him that yeah, yeah, he had. He waited for Carlo to make a joke, or change the subject, or tell him to go bugger himself. But Carlo just stared at him, face flushed and eyes dilated. After way too long, he dropped his gaze back to his own plate and resumed eating without saying another word.
Well. You could seduce him away. What if he really could?
And wouldn’t that be a brilliant move. He was bound to muck the whole thing up.
I would never treat you like that . His own words from earlier bounced around in his head, feeding a growing compulsion to do something, anything, to make sure Carlo was safe, happy. Yeah, Garrett knew he was complete ass and sucked at relationships, but at least he cared about Carlo. At least he would try to keep from hurting him. And it wasn’t as though they didn’t have a track record. Hell, they were already in a relationship. They had done everything but screw. How hard could it be to add that one extra dimension?
Not hard at all. His mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the plate of pasta in front of him. It’s not the screwing that will be the problem. But he wanted a taste, damnit, just a taste of Carlo. Later, when the inevitable twitchiness set in, he would ease away gently, back to their normal friendship and let Carlo find someone who was more suitable, more worthy, someone who would stay with him forever.
They finished eating in silence. Garrett was hyper-aware of every move Carlo
“Sounds like an ass. I thought you wanted to settle down. What do you see in a guy like that?”
Surprisingly, a ghost of a smile crossed Carlo’s face at this.
“He’s hot, passionate, very charismatic, and ambitious. He’s a lot like you, actually.”
Screw that.
“Except that I would never treat you like that.”
“Really, Garrett? All those men? You do it every day.”
“Not to you.”
“The situation is not so different.”
Garrett didn’t know what to say to that. What a shit comparison. Carlo was nothing like Garrett’s exes. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Anyone who couldn’t see it didn’t deserve him for a second.
“Anyway,” Carlo said, “he does care for me, in his own way. Sometimes I think he cares more than he knows. One day he’ll realize it.”
He looked up, straight into Garrett’s eyes.
Everything Garrett had been about to say was swallowed up by that look. It seeped into his soul. It spread through the dark cracks and crevasses with the warmth of aged whiskey. It was a look that had all the answers, and he couldn’t remember the question.
Carlo pulled out of his grasp and finished laying out the place settings as if nothing had happened.
Garrett sat down and tried to work out where the conversation had gone sideways and how he should get it back on track. The only thing he could come up with was, “I don’t like him.”
Carlo laughed. “No?”
He sounded truly amused, and this truly annoyed Garrett, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He let Carlo serve the pasta while he mulled over his options.
“You’re eating. I’m flattered.”
The words snapped him out of his own head. He looked down at his half-eaten food.
“You served food. I was hungry. What did you expect me to do?”
“It’s not up to your usual standards.”
“Why do you put down your own cooking like that?”
“You’ve just been extra…finicky lately.”
Yeah, “finicky.” That was a nice way to put it. He knew what Carlo was getting at, but he wasn’t here to discuss his own growing list of idiosyncrasies.
“You’re a good cook, Carlo.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, “You know I’d eat anything you offered me.”
His voice came out lower and huskier than he intended. Shit. Had he just loaded that last sentence with innuendo? The slow flush that crawled up Carlo’s cheekbones told him that yeah, yeah, he had. He waited for Carlo to make a joke, or change the subject, or tell him to go bugger himself. But Carlo just stared at him, face flushed and eyes dilated. After way too long, he dropped his gaze back to his own plate and resumed eating without saying another word.
Well. You could seduce him away. What if he really could?
And wouldn’t that be a brilliant move. He was bound to muck the whole thing up.
I would never treat you like that . His own words from earlier bounced around in his head, feeding a growing compulsion to do something, anything, to make sure Carlo was safe, happy. Yeah, Garrett knew he was complete ass and sucked at relationships, but at least he cared about Carlo. At least he would try to keep from hurting him. And it wasn’t as though they didn’t have a track record. Hell, they were already in a relationship. They had done everything but screw. How hard could it be to add that one extra dimension?
Not hard at all. His mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the plate of pasta in front of him. It’s not the screwing that will be the problem. But he wanted a taste, damnit, just a taste of Carlo. Later, when the inevitable twitchiness set in, he would ease away gently, back to their normal friendship and let Carlo find someone who was more suitable, more worthy, someone who would stay with him forever.
They finished eating in silence. Garrett was hyper-aware of every move Carlo
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