He wondered if Mr. “I’ll tell you if I need the ER” understood how much that little concession meant to him. Or if Sky had even done it consciously. Either way, Sky was trusting his judgment and it felt good. “One glass, and you don’t tell on me.”
“Fair enough. Are you going to get noodles?” Sky bounced a little bit, not too much. “I’m loving being able to eat carbs.”
“I don’t know. Probably. Maybe the cream sauce…um. Alfredo. With veggies. I’ll share.” He had to admit, as much as Sky was hot at fighting weight, his off-season lover, with a little bulk alongside that muscle, was even better. Sky wasn’t there yet, with having been hurt and the surgeries and the meds, but would be soon. Especially if he kept going for the carbs.
“Mmm…I love it when you make that. I never eat Alfredo out because yours is better.”
“Really?” Well, that was nice. He’d had no idea. “This winter we’d have some people over for your chili.” Sky had to meet everybody first, though. Adam and the paralegals at work, Paul and Danny, his buddies at the marina. The neighbors. His skiing friends. Everybody. “There are people you should meet sooner, of course. Adam’s been asking.”
“I like folks, and I’m walking now, even if I have tennies on.” Sky wasn’t in boots yet and it was bothering him. Kevin said that might take a good while before that happened, so Sky would have to be patient.
He stopped them outside the restaurant and looked at Sky. “I think you’d like the friends I’ve made here.”
He hoped it wouldn’t be weird, but it might be at first. All he’d ever said about Sky was that he was married, and his husband was traveling with the rodeo. He let people work the rest out for themselves. Except Adam. Adam had picked him up off the floor a couple of times, literally and figuratively. Still, he’d never said a bad word about Sky. He hoped everyone would be happy that he was happy.
Sky was a charmer, seriously. The man could make friends anywhere, right?
Feeling brave and young, Beckett kissed Sky—just a peck, right out on the street before opening the door and holding it for his husband. “Let’s get that hot cowboy butt into a chair and order some wine, Stud.”
“Works for me. I think I’m doing pretty good, huh? I’ve been up a while.”
“You’re a rock star, babe. You’re doing better than good.”
The restaurant smelled amazing, like garlic and fresh bread, and they were seated at a great table where they could people-watch and see some of the square out the window.
Sky settled in with a sigh, grinning at him. “Man, I’m ready for a nice, long supper with you.”
“This was a great suggestion, I’m glad you insisted we go out. We deserve it. Especially after our crazy day.” He opened his menu and had a look. “So what kind of dog do you want?”
“Fuzzy. Big and fuzzy. Someone to keep Walter warm.”
“Walter.” He laughed. “Fuzzy. Like…a Bernese? Aussie shep? Both of those are great snow dogs too.” Bernese were a little drooly but they were so sweet.
“I’m easy. We need to see who we fall in love with, right?”
“We do pretty well with that.” Beck ordered the wine. Sky liked to pretend it was torture but really, he thought Sky had acquired a taste for it.
At least he had a few years ago; that was all Beck had to go on.
“Wine is still okay, right? You’re sure?”
“One glass, babe. I can milk it all evening with a glass of water.”
Beck grinned. “I was asking whether you’d rather order a beer, or if wine was still okay with you. I know you were okay with it before—I wanted to be sure you still were.”
“Ah. No, wine works. Beer would fill me up.” Sky reached under the table, touching his knee. That made him smile and he covered Sky’s hand with his own.
“Okay. Good. What did you decide to eat?” He was rethinking the Alfredo because there was a ravioli Florentine that looked amazing.
“Chicken parm looks good, and there’s this one with sausage and olives…” That look was so close to sex, it wasn’t even funny.
At this point, he wasn’t sure if this was dinner or foreplay.
“Well, you better make up your mind, cowboy, because here comes the server and the wine.” He tasted the wine and approved it, a ritual that was completely wasted on him because he didn’t know good wine, he only knew what he liked. Then he ordered his ravioli and looked at Sky. “Decision time, babe.”
“I’ll take the sausage and olives. That sounds…delicious. I bet you can make chicken parm.”
“I bet I can.” He was a little shocked to discover that he’d forgotten how much Sky liked Italian food. Hopefully whatever else he’d forgotten wasn’t important. “Where was it we had that crazy huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs for two? Remember that?”