Chapter 8 #2
“You think because you’re pretty, I’m just going to accept you stealing the cookie for yourself?”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Saint blew him a kiss. “Thanks, Chief. You’re still not getting your hands on this cookie.”
Then he’d have to get his hands on something else.
Val moved in fast, and because Saint had no idea what Val was up to, Val saw his chance and took it, grabbing Saint and picking him up in a fireman’s carry.
“Holy shit!” Saint cried out in surprise, then laughed when he found himself draped over Val’s shoulder. “Fuck, Chief.”
“I’ve carried guys much heavier than you.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot about that.”
“Give me the cookie, Sailor.”
“I guess you deserve a piece for creativity.” Saint broke off a piece and held it out in front of Val’s mouth. He took it and chewed it with a happy hum. “You planning on putting me down?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Ass. Speaking of….”
“What are you doing?”
“Staring at your ass.”
“You shit.” Val dropped Saint to his feet, not realizing Saint would end up almost pressed against him. He had his hands on Saint’s waist, and the thing was, it felt right. So right. Not that he’d thought it wouldn’t. He’d never felt comfortable so quickly with someone as he did with Saint.
As if holding one another, being this close, was nothing new, Val didn’t think anything of it when he pressed his lips to Saint’s without a second thought.
His heart leaped in his throat because Saint didn’t hesitate.
He closed his eyes and parted his lips. Holy hell, it was even better than he’d imagined.
Despite Val’s overwhelming desire for Saint, their kiss was slow and sweet.
Val cupped Saint’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against his stubbled jaw, smiling when Saint slipped a hand behind Val’s head to keep him close.
No other thought entered Val’s mind other than to savor this moment, to enjoy the softness of Saint’s full lips and the warmth of his mouth.
“Mm, you taste sweet,” Val murmured against Saint’s lips.
“I’m always sweet,” Saint replied, his voice low and husky before he pressed his lips to Val’s once more.
“You didn’t kiss Vic.”
Saint brushed his lips over Val’s. “He wasn’t you.”
Well, damn. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
Nothing. Instead of talking, Val kissed Saint again, deepening their kiss, heat exploding through him at the feel of Saint’s obvious erection against Val’s leg.
The low moan Saint let out told Val he wanted more, reminding Val of his words.
With a sigh, Val stopped kissing Saint and let their heads rest together.
“I’m sorry. I told you nothing could happen between us, and then I kissed you.” He couldn’t be that guy. What was wrong with him? He’d been in Saint’s place, been the one to get strung along, hoping for something that was never meant for him. He could never do that to Saint. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a kiss, Chief,” Saint said with a smile and a shrug. “No big deal.”
Val pulled away and blinked at him. “Yeah?” Relief washed over him. Saint’s smile was genuine. “I wouldn’t blame you if you told me to fuck off for giving you mixed signals.” Can’t have it both ways .
“It’s fine. Really. Not a big deal.” Saint stepped back. “You’ve kissed guys before that you haven’t hooked up with, right?”
“Well, yeah, but they were strangers.” Val frowned. Saint was unlike those guys in so many ways.
“True. But neither of you thought it was a big deal. It was a let’s-have-fun-no-strings-attached moment.”
Saint wasn’t wrong.
“So we’re good,” he said. He waggled his eyebrows at Val, then stuffed the rest of the chocolate chip cookie in his mouth and moaned in pleasure.
“You little shit,” Val laughed.
Saint shrugged, returned to his bucket, and picked up his putty knife. “Come on, Chief. Time to get to work.”
If Saint said they were good, Val would take him at his word. They were both adults. A little kiss wasn’t a big deal. Just because they both wanted more didn’t mean they had to act on it. They got back to work, and a few minutes into the silence, Saint removed his phone from his pocket.
“How about a little music?”
The familiar beat of drums and a guitar riff accompanied a Latin rock beat, and Val smiled. “Santana.” He remembered the song’s popularity back when he was in college.
“Ooh, yeah.” Saint spun on his heels and started dancing, his footwork impressive.
“Is that salsa?” Val asked.
“Yep.” Saint shimmied his shoulders, and Val laughed.
“Where did you learn?” It’s not that he hadn’t seen Saint dance before. Val had seen him enough times to know he was a very good dancer and knew various styles. But there was something about Saint dancing to Latin music that mesmerized Val. He couldn’t help but watch.
“My mom and various family members. I knew how to dance salsa and merengue by the time I was in junior high.”
“Really?” Val wasn’t about to mention the dances he did in junior high, namely the Running Man and the Sprinkler Dance. He wanted to cringe just thinking about it. Although, as ridiculous as he and his friends had looked doing the dances, they’d still had a hell of a lot of fun.
“Are you kidding? Do you know how many quinceanera parties I participated in growing up? A terrifying number, that’s how many.” He sang along as he swayed his hips and moved with the beat.
“I’ve never been to one. How did you participate?
” Val had a general idea of what the parties were.
Sort of a sweet sixteen, a coming-of-age celebration with a long history steeped in the Latinx tradition.
He remembered one of his firefighters asking him for overtime because his daughter’s quinceanera party was coming up.
Val knew they were expensive, but he’d had no idea some of them cost almost as much as a wedding until the man had told him.
“There are usually three traditional dances,” Saint said.
“The father-daughter dance, the waltz, and a surprise dance. The surprise dance most often involves choreography. You have a certain number of couples, usually friends of the quinceanera, sometimes cousins or family members of roughly the same age. It’s a whole thing. ”
Val studied him. “Is there video evidence of you participating in any of these?” Once again, Val was grateful social media hadn’t existed when he was a kid. So grateful.
“There is, and you will never, ever, ever see them.” Saint gave him a pointed look.
“Okay, but you gotta tell me something. Come on.”
“Fine. I once participated in a choreographed dance number of Dirty Dancing ’s ‘Time of My Life,’ wearing a tuxedo with a pink bow tie.”
Val blinked at him. “I need to see this.”
“No, you don’t.” Saint turned back to the wall and started mudding again.
“Yes. Yes, I do. I need to. I might not survive if I don’t.”
“You’ll live.”
Val put a hand on his chest. “Saint, help. Please.” He gasped. “Need. To. See. Video.”
“You’ve been spending way too much time around Ace. Also, not going to happen.”
“So you’re just going to let me expire?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Harsh.” Val chuckled and turned back to his wall. If he really wanted to see the video, all he had to do was ask Ace. He’d probably have it within seconds. Hm….
“You’re not asking Ace for it.”
Val peered at him. “How did you…?”
“Because if there is any embarrassing video evidence out there of anyone he knows, Ace will suddenly become Liam Neeson, develop a particular set of skills, and find it.”
Val snorted. “That sounds about right.”
“So what comes after the mudding and sanding is done?”
“The bricks.”
Saint looked confused. “Bricks?”
“Yep. Brick veneers. I found a company that sells thin bricks salvaged from buildings demolished in New York. It’s a pretty ingenious system. The metal panels, bricks, and supplies get delivered tomorrow morning. I’m going for an old New York City firehouse look.”
“That’s going to look so cool.”
“I think so. It’s gonna be a lot of work, but it’ll be worth it.”
“I’m happy I can help.”
Val was happy Saint was here, though he decided it was best not to say anything. They continued to work until it got dark, and Val was done looking at these walls.
“Okay, I’m done. How about we go home?”
“You still need to feed me,” Saint said, grin wide.
“How about I make you some pasta? Oh, and I ordered these mint chocolate brownies that are incredible.”
“Didn’t figure you for a chocolate mint person.”
“You found my Kryptonite.”
“Really? Chocolate mint.”
“Yep.”
“Good to know.”
They put everything away and cleaned up as best they could before heading outside. Val locked up, and before Val climbed into his car, Saint made sure to check it over. He really wasn’t taking any chances.
“Meet you at mine. Tomorrow we can carpool,” Val said.
“Sounds good. Right behind you, Chief.” Saint climbed into his truck, and Val got into his SUV.
Was it silly to get excited about having dinner with Saint at his house? It wasn’t like he hadn’t made dinner for friends before. No big deal, right? He’d made pasta for Frank before. Who was he kidding? Making dinner for Frank was nowhere near the same as making dinner for Saint.
“Holy shit, I kissed him.” Val sat at the red light at the end of the block and glanced in his rearview mirror at Saint behind him.
He was drumming his steering wheel and singing along to something.
Why did he have to be so damned cute? And holy shit, they’d kissed.
He did exactly what he’d said he wouldn’t do.
But fuck, Saint had tasted so good, and the way he felt in Val’s arms… like he belonged there.
Nope . No thinking about it. It was a one-time thing that wouldn’t happen again. Saint was a friend, a good friend, who was helping him with his tavern. They’d shared one kiss, which was no big deal, they both agreed and now it was time to move on. No problem. He could do this.
At least that’s what he’d thought before he had Saint moaning and making all kinds of sex noises in his kitchen.
When he’d offered to make Saint dinner, he hadn’t expected it to test his resolve, but he should have known better.
Because the more time he spent around Saint, the harder it was to ignore everything about him that Val longed for.
“Fuck, Chief. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Val shook his head and chuckled. “It’s just gravy.” He finished up rinsing the container and stuck it in the dishwasher, then took a seat next to Saint at his kitchen counter.
“Gravy? What?” Saint looked down at his plate. “It’s pasta sauce.”
“Yeah, we call it gravy. Or at least that’s what my nonna used to call it.
Never really figured out why.” He shrugged and twirled a forkful of spaghetti.
Sometimes he wondered what his nonna would have done if she’d still been alive when he came out.
She’d been an amazing lady, and the only one who’d been able to put his father in his place.
Val liked to think her love for him would have kept her in his life.
“Oh. Well, it’s the damned best gravy I’ve ever had. I can eat a bowlful of this all on its own with just bread.”
Saint did love his bread, though it had to be good bread. Otherwise, he had very strong opinions about it, which Val found hilarious. How did a guy who ate that much bread stay so fit?
“It was my nonna’s recipe,” Val replied. “She taught me how to make it when I was little. I make it in big batches and freeze it so I can have it for dinner any time I want.”
“You a meal prep kinda guy?” Saint asked before shoving another forkful in his mouth.
“I got used to it from my days at the firehouse. We worked long shifts, so everyone took turns bringing in food or cooking, which meant making a lot of food. When I made chief and was taken out of the cooking rotation, I kept doing it for myself and just freezing stuff. Made dinner a lot easier, especially after a long day.”
Before Val knew it, they’d both polished off their plates.
Working at the tavern all day must have made him hungrier than he thought.
Saint cleared their dishes, and once again insisted on washing them himself rather than using the dishwasher.
Val shook his head and went along with it, taking the clean dishes from him and drying everything off so he could put it away.
“Watch your head,” Val said, reaching over Saint who ducked so Val could open the cabinet and put away the dry glasses.
His arm was still up when he closed the door and Saint lifted his head.
You know, you could have just waited to put the glasses away.
If he had, he wouldn’t have Saint pressed against him, his back to Val’s front. Fuck, he smelled so good.
Val put his chin on Saint’s shoulder and slipped his arms around Saint's waist because he just wasn’t strong enough not to. “You’re going to fucking kill me, Sailor.”
Saint turned his head slightly, his lips quirked in a smile. “Me? I was just standing here washing dishes.”
“I know,” Val groaned. He needed to step away, and yet he didn’t move.
He brushed his lips against Saint’s temple and closed his eyes, his body thrumming with how badly he wanted Saint.
His bedroom was just down the hall. Because that made sense.
You kissed the guy once, tell him nothing can happen, and now you’re going to ask him to join you in your bedroom ?
“Hey,” Saint said softly, moving Val’s arms so he could turn in them. His sad smile broke Val’s heart. “It’s okay.” He cupped Val’s cheek, his thumb stroking his skin. “You don’t need to overthink this.”
Val sighed and covered Saint’s hand with his. “But I do, because I don’t want to hurt you, Saint.”
“Then don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Even if Val had no intention of hurting Saint, he couldn’t say the same about Saint not hurting him.
Not that Saint would do it intentionally.
He wouldn’t. But unintentionally? It was a huge risk.
And if Val felt like this now, how would he feel if he let Saint all the way into his heart?
“Don’t worry about it, Chief.” Saint dropped his hand and moved out of Val’s arms. “Come on. Let’s watch some TV for a while. I’m not quite ready to turn in.”
Val ran his hands over his face and sighed. What was he doing? How long could this go on? Something told Val that no matter what he did, his heart was still in for a world of hurt.