Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
S loan was just about nervous as fuck.
He couldn’t believe Lance had agreed to come over, let him cook, spend time alone in this house together.
He wasn’t complaining, but he had honestly expected Lance to say no, to blow him off.
It didn’t matter, because Lance had said yes, and Sloan was pulling out all the stops.
He’d cleaned his house top to bottom, cleaning, dusting, and he’d put on stinky candles. He’d gotten all the things for enchiladas along with beers, Cokes, tea, milk— anything that he could think Lance would possibly want to drink. Chips, guacamole, salsa. Lots of wipes for spillage.
Maybe he should have gotten those scoop chips, maybe those would have been better. Sloan thought they were a little crumbly though, so he got the thicker ones because he thought that would work better.
Shit. It didn’t matter. It was too late. He didn’t have time to run to the store again, and God knew this little town did not have DoorDash .
It didn’t have anything dash. It was a dash-less town. Even where he lived in New Mexico, he could get DoorDash.
It took forever, but he could get it.
What was he missing? Oh, water for the dog. He filled the new dog bowl with water. He’d already made sure the fence was good enough for Abby to go outside and go to the bathroom without getting out, getting lost.
He didn’t have a doggy door, but he wasn’t going to put a doggy door in a rental house because his ex-boyfriend was coming over once. Maybe if he decided to come over more than once he’d put one in.
Sloan wondered if the house Lance was living in had a doggy door. Maybe he could volunteer to put in a doggy door… It would get him a chance to see the house at any rate.
That was probably skeezy, but the benefit might outweigh the skeeze.
He really had to think about this.
Sloan damn near jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang, and he smoothed down his shirt, made sure he was fine before he hurried over to answer it.
Lance stood there wearing a dark T-shirt, with the gray button-down open over the top of it. Pair of blue jeans finished the outfit, and the man looked just about as hot as anything he’d ever seen in his whole life.
“Sloan?”
“You know it. Come on in. Hey, Abby.”
He got a single wag from the German shepherd.
“Abby, forward.”
They walked in the door, and Dan Riviera was standing there behind Lance holding a six-pack of Coronas and a box of fudge.
“His hands were full,” Dan explained, handing over the goodies. “I told him I’d bring him in. I’m not horning in on your date. ”
“It’s not a date,” Lance said.
“Yeah, thanks.” It was definitely kind of a date.
“Absolutely. Text me when you’re ready to come home, buddy, and I’ll be here. I’m just gonna head back to the house and watch some terrible TV. I wish it was football season.”
Lance snorted and rolled his eyes. “Soon, grasshopper. Soon the leaves will begin to fall, and the pigskin will begin to fly through the air again.”
“Promises, promises.”
Sloan chuckled. “Who’s your team man?”
“Longhorns. Hook ‘em.”
Of course. Sloan chuckled. He was a Colorado man. He couldn’t bring himself to root for UNM. “Figures. Thanks for bringing him, man.” He grinned, waiting for Dan to head before he closed the door. “Come on and sit. Thanks for the goodies.”
“Sure. Just point me and shoot me.” Lance seemed a little unsure about what he was supposed to do now.
“No problem.” He’d read about this online. “Do you want to take my elbow, and I’ll take you over? It’s real simple. There’s a recliner and a couch. The recliner’s about four or five steps to your left, and then the couch is in an L-shape right in front of that.”
“I’ll take the couch, thanks.” Lance reached out with his free hand and took his arm.
The touch was electric, literally sending static shocks up his arm, and his entire body shivered, goose flesh jumping over his skin.
“Come on then, let’s do this.” Sloan walked Lance over to the sofa and helped him sit.
The couch was brown leather and super normal—nothing, no amount of spilling or anything could harm it.
“Is it all right with you if I take Abby’s harness off? I mean, just let her be off work for a minute. ”
“Of course! I got her a water bowl, and I checked the fence so she can go in and out the back door at will.”
Lance grinned for him, the expression natural and honest enough that he wanted to cheer. “Oh, rock on. That’s cool. Thanks.”
Lance got Abby’s harness off, and Sloan showed her the back door, the water dish before he dished up the chips and guac and salsa. “You want a Coke? A beer?”
“I’ll take a beer.”
He grabbed two Coronas, putting wedges in the mouths of the bottles. “Here you go—would you like a plate for the chips and stuff or?—”
“Do you have a stinky candle?” Lance asked, sniffing.
His cheeks heated. “Yeah. It’s some kind of boy smell.”
Lance tilted his head. “Like Axe body spray?”
“I was thinking more, you know, sweat and spray starch.”
Lance grinned at him. “Now, that’s cowboy smell. This does not smell like that.”
Okay, now he was curious. “What does it smell like?”
“Black pepper and leather.”
“Are you sure? Who would make a candle that was black pepper and leather?”
One blond eyebrow raised. “You bought it. What does the label say it smells like? It has to say, right?”
How the hell did Sloan know? He had never bought a stinky candle in his entire life. He’d bought this from the grocery store because some lady told him it was good and would be nice if he was having a date. “I’ll go look.”
Sure enough, right there on the label under the name Gentlemen’s Enchantment , it said scents of leather and black pepper . Okay, that was creepy. “You’re totally right. Leather and black pepper.”
“Excellent, let’s blow it out before we eat, because that is not a food smell. ”
“Hey, black pepper is a food smell!” He was having a ball. They were having a conversation about nothing in his house—or his rental house wasn’t his real house, but they were having a conversation together, and laughing.
Stinky candle for the win.
“Not with leather and undertones of musk.”
Sloan chuckled. “Gotcha. Okay. I’ll blow it out.” He puffed out some air on the candle and went out, leaving that weird burning smell coming from it for a moment.
“Thanks, man.” Lance waved a hand. “It didn’t go with guac, I don’t think.”
“You ready for my guac, honey?” he teased. Lance had always loved his chunky avocado New Mexico-style guacamole.
“I am. Lay it on me.” Lance felt around the couch, then the coffee table, checking out the surfaces, the splash factor, he thought. That was cool. Hell, he’d lay down a towel if Lance wanted him to.
“You mind if I put something on your coffee table?” Lance asked. “I know this is a rental.”
“I’ll get one of my old bath towels. I brought a bunch down because I wasn’t sure what the house would have.”
“So it came furnished, right?” Lance waited, face turned up to him.
“Yeah. I mean, I changed out the chair. The recliner. The one that was here is in the garage, wrapped all in old blankets and a tarp.” He went to grab a towel, but he kept talking. “Anyway, I also got some cooking stuff from Walmart. The things that came with the house are all pretty worn.”
“Wow. So you’ll put that all back in the cabinets when you leave?”
Sloan stiffened. He didn’t want to think about leaving without Lance, but he wasn’t going to go there right now. So he forced himself to chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Let me get that guac.”
Abby’s nails clicked on the floor as she followed him to the kitchen. She was totally a dog when she was off duty, looking for a handout. And curious as hell.
He came back with a bowl of chips and one of guac.
“That smells so good,” Lance sipped his beer. “I love that onion and jalapeno thing.”
“I do too.” He thought guacamole smelled green. But maybe that was because it looked that way too. Who knew what Lance thought of it.
“So tell me where everything is?”
“The guac is at noon. Like right in the middle of the table. And the chips are off to your three.”
“Thanks. Is it okay to direct dip, or do you want me to do a plate?”
He didn’t care. “What’s easiest for you?”
“I don’t suppose you have some sort of a wide bowl or plate with a big lip situation that I could kind of hold and dip at the same time? It’d be easier than having to find the bowl each and every time.”
Look at Lance telling him what he needed. He liked that.
“No problem, I can do that.” And he could. Weirdly, Sloan felt as if he had handled this situation. He’d done this. Lance had asked him for what he needed, Sloan provided it. There was no drama. It was easy-ish. Cool.
Lance started eating, so he did too, trying hard not to watch.
“So how do you like it here?” Lance asked him, in between bites.
“It’s humid. Uh…the flowers are pretty.” He needed to try harder. “Actually, all the green is very pretty. And the people are amazing for the most part. It’s a lot less dangerous here to wo rk as a cop than it is in Santa Fe. This is much more, you know, low-key.”
The actual answer was he missed home. He missed the sky being so blue and being able to see the mountains.
He missed the colors at home, the browns and the reds and the tans and the blues so different from here.
He missed green chile and less stress and arroyos and acequias.
He missed adobes. And feeling like he was home.
He’d missed Lance worse.
“How about you? Do you like it here?”
Lance shrugged. “It’s a place. So the people are good, and I like the ranch. I like the guys that I’m in the house with. I’m still kind of in that space where sometimes I just hate everything, but that is not as much as it used to be. So I’ll take it, you know?”
He didn’t, but he wanted to. He wanted to know everything. “So tell me about the guys that you live with.”