Chapter Four #3
“Let’s get a bucket then,” Wyatt suggested. “We can share. And I definitely want to try those authentic shrimp tacos. And the al pastor.”
When they were about to get to the register, Ryan shooed him away, with directions to find a table.
Wyatt decided that he didn’t care if Ryan bought him some tacos and a beer.
It was fine. It didn’t mean this was a date.
It didn’t mean anything, necessarily. It was a guy welcoming his new employee.
Except it hadn’t felt precisely professional when they’d been pressed together on his bike earlier, and it wouldn’t feel that way on the way home either.
Especially with Wyatt desperate for Ryan to pull over for every dark corner.
Ryan ventured over to the table Wyatt had found with his very capable hands filled with plates and the bucket of beers dangling from one finger.
It shouldn’t have reminded Wyatt of the other night, but pretty much everything reminded Wyatt of the other night. The way Ryan walked, the way he smiled—brighter now, and more spontaneously—the way he bit his lip or wet it with his tongue, and definitely his strong, calloused hands.
“Food,” Ryan crowed with excitement, sliding the paper plates across the table. “And beer!”
“Do you think there’s anyone on the planet who doesn’t like tacos?” Wyatt asked, digging a chip into the salsa verde, heat prickling his tongue as the jalapenos hit his taste buds. “Tacos are god’s food.”
“Tacos are amazing,” Ryan agreed.
“What else do you like to eat?” Wyatt asked, squeezing a lime over his shrimp tacos.
Ryan glanced up, attention distracted from the food in front of him. “Is this part of the interrogation? Should I find my handcuffs?”
Wyatt thought Ryan would be sufficiently pleased at how his heartbeat picked up at the mention of his handcuffs.
“No,” he scoffed wryly. “I promise, it’ll be fine.
Just a few questions. I definitely find that food is a personal thing.
Besides, I want to prevent you from tossing your meal at me, and keep your broken-plate rule intact. ”
“It’s not going to be hard,” Ryan said. “I’m really laid-back about food. Most of the time, I don’t really care, honestly. Just put it in front of me, and I’ll eat it.”
Wyatt was skeptical but maybe that was from a history of working at the most exacting restaurant in America. “Okay, tell me this. When it’s just you, what do you eat? Start with breakfast.”
“A banana? An orange? Sometimes a mango or a papaya if I can get my hands on it. I like to buy those pre-boiled eggs from the store for protein. Maybe a frozen turkey sausage or two, if I’m feeling like making the effort.”
Wyatt had seen Ryan’s kitchen and how pristine it was. He had a feeling Ryan very infrequently “made the effort.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t mention any protein shakes,” Wyatt said, swallowing a big bite of fantastic fresh and spicy shrimp. He’d done a little research, and the shakes seemed to be the ubiquitous item that most athletes imbibed.
Ryan’s grin was too cute, all lopsided and embarrassed. “Those go without saying. I like to put low-fat peanut butter in mine.”
“Smooth or chunky?”
Ryan choked on his beer. “Oh, smooth.” An unholy glint lit his dark eyes. “Very smooth.”
Wyatt had to swallow hard, even though he wasn’t even eating at that moment. “Noted.”
“But you’re not writing anything down?” Ryan teased.
“I have a feeling I won’t have any trouble remembering any of this. So far, it’s not exactly complicated. What about lunch or dinner?”
“Eric is going to be really happy that I hired someone who takes his job so seriously,” Ryan said.
“I don’t really care, honestly. Feed me something.
Whatever you feel you want to make. October and November, I don’t worry too much about what I’m eating, though towards Thanksgiving, I’m going to have to watch it a little, because I have an Adidas commercial shoot.
And knowing Eric, who’s arranging the whole thing, they’ll have me mostly naked. ”
Wyatt’s cheeks heated at the thought of all that bare skin. Except he wasn’t picturing it on an Adidas set, he was picturing it in his bed, with Ryan raising his eyebrow the same he had the night they’d met. Daring Wyatt to do everything he wanted.
Maybe a pair of those handcuffs of Ryan’s thrown in for good measure.
He was all quicksilver heat, hot and swift but possibly not lasting. Considering that Wyatt already wanted more, he wasn’t sure he could settle for what Ryan might give him.
Who am I kidding? Wyatt asked himself. He was going to take anything Ryan would give him, love every second, and then somehow deal with it when it ended.
Maybe if he did a really great job, Ryan might keep him on after, no matter how wretched that would feel. It wasn’t something to look forward to, but Wyatt needed the money.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asked, pulling Wyatt out of his depressing thoughts. Thinking about flings ending before they even began, worrying about fallout and finances.
Wyatt grimaced. “Sorry, just got distracted.”
“I must not be entertaining you enough,” Ryan insisted, and suddenly, there was his foot, his boot nudging Wyatt’s.
And even through two layers of leather, the impact blasted through him.
It wasn’t the first time Ryan had touched him since he’d arrived, but this wasn’t just a simple touch. It had a purpose and intent.
I’m going to touch you a lot more tonight.
“I don’t have any complaints so far,” Wyatt said, a little teasing edge to his voice.
“You’d tell me if you did, right?” Ryan asked.
Wyatt toyed with a chip, crumbling it onto his empty plate. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The truth was Wyatt was curious why Ryan had suddenly decided he needed a private chef when he didn’t even have a personal assistant, but that wasn’t exactly a complaint. Besides, Wyatt had a feeling he’d discover the truth eventually, even if he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear it.
The secrecy alone should turn him off, but he was in too deep. It was that blasted attraction, rearing its head again.
“You would,” Ryan confirmed. “I’m just . . . maybe you’re not being entertaining enough.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “That’s something you’re going to have to get used to, unfortunately. I’m pretty boring.”
“You like to cook, but what else do you do for fun?”
“In high school, I surfed,” Wyatt said. “I’ve been wanting to get back to it.”
“I know a lot of good spots. Maybe we can go together sometime,” Ryan said. “I don’t get to go during the season much, so I need to get all this in before spring training starts. So, cooking, surfing. And your bike. What else makes Wyatt Blake tick?”
If Wyatt hadn’t already acknowledged this felt like a first date, he definitely would have thought it now. “The first thing I try to do if I have any free time is see my nana. We’re really close.”
“Cooking, surfing, your motorcycle, and Nana’s boy.” Ryan sounded approving, and he was smiling. “Never mind that sound you make when you lose control. How is a guy like you single?”
Wyatt didn’t want to talk about it. He definitely didn’t want to talk about it with Ryan, who had taken the chance to come out at the most impactful moment in his career.
“You finished?” he asked, getting to his feet. His voice sounded rough, a little of his desperation leaking into it. Desperation to avoid the question. Desperation to get Ryan naked underneath him, on top of him—whichever, Wyatt didn’t even care.
Ryan’s dark eyes were knowing as they stared up at him. “With the food, yeah. With you, not quite.”
“Then let’s go,” Wyatt said.
He never would have dreamed of voicing that sort of demand to his old boss, but it was becoming very clear that his old job and his new job were fundamentally different.
Ryan kept saying he was nothing like Bastian Aquino, and maybe it was time to hold him to that.
Ryan had also claimed they could keep their professional and personal lives separate, and had driven that point home by taking him out to dinner tonight. So, he was off the clock, right?
Wyatt scooped up the empty plates and tossed them in the trash on his way to the parking lot, hoping that Ryan was trailing after him.
He could hear footsteps behind him, and it was all the confirmation he needed to drop his helmet on the seat, and wrap one hand around Ryan’s waist and pull him close. “This what you had in mind?” he demanded, right before he kissed him.
He hadn’t been able to forget how intensely Ryan had kissed him the other night, and even though at the time he’d believed he’d given as good as he got, it was impossible not to catalogue every missed moment.
This time Wyatt wasn’t going to miss a thing.
His mouth covered Ryan’s, his arm pulling him tight against him, and he let him know explicitly, with his lips and his tongue, just how much he’d wanted him the last few days. That he hadn’t stopped wanting him, that he’d wanted him even before he’d dropped him off at his front gate.
All Ryan’s teasing had done was push him to a point of desperation—a point of no return. He didn’t care if it was over tomorrow morning or next week or next year. He just wanted as much of Ryan as he could get, in whatever time they had.
Ryan broke away, panting, but Wyatt didn’t let up.
His lips only shifted to his neck, feeling the pulse point there racing.
Ryan definitely wanted him just as much.
His cock was a hard, burning pressure against Wyatt’s thigh, and he kept shifting a little, like he was just as desperate to take the strain off.
But Wyatt wasn’t going to let him go that easily.
“You didn’t even let me finish my beer,” Ryan said, and his voice was breathless.
“I’ll buy you another one,” Wyatt said, between kisses against the soft skin just behind Ryan’s ear. Soft and sensitive, if the way Ryan kept squirming was any indication.