Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You can come over and watch it with us if you want,” Ford said as quietly as his powerful bass-filled voice would let him. The sound still rattled Dana’s chest. That voice could be the death of him.
Dana walked the few steps back, needing to see if Ford was extending the invite out of pity or if he genuinely wanted Dana there. Last time he’d been in the man’s space it hadn’t gone well. He did see uncertainty, but he didn’t see pity. “That sounds good.”
“What sounds good?” Brian gestured, appearing back beside his brother with ease. One would think those big men would have a time moving their bulk through the throngs of people, but they didn’t, they moved with quiet precision… scarily.
“Watching the game with you guys tonight. I’ll bring some nachos.” Dana smiled, feeling so lightheaded it was funny. It was crazy how even the smallest, most platonic invitation from his partner could make him high. It’s just a ballgame.
Brian didn’t let his shock show, but Dana imagined there was surprise somewhere in the man’s calculating mind that his brother had invited someone to hang with them on their night. Ford’s time with his brother was sacred. They all knew that.
“Actually. I forgot that I do have other plans tonight.” Brian signed with mock seriousness, having a hard time hiding his classic smirk.
“Fuck you.” Ford turned and glared at his not-little-at-all brother.
Dana had to admit that Brian was being pretty obvious. This was clearly a lame attempt to get them alone.
“Really, I do.” Brian’s charming grin was contagious and Dana began to join in while Ford stood there looking really uncomfortable. “But you guys still chill out and watch. Make sure to text me the score.”
“Yeah, whatever, Brian,” Ford hissed.
“Starts at eight.” Ford turned and walked away, leaving Dana beaming behind his back.
“He likes DiGiornos on game night.” Brian signed hastily. Dana didn’t catch it the first time, and Brian signed it slower.
It took a second for Dana to piece it together but he got enough to interpret what Brian said. “I’ll bring the pizzas!” Dana yelled at Ford’s hastily retreating back as he smoothly maneuvered his huge body through the aisle, but not before earning himself the finger over Ford’s broad shoulder. This was getting more fun now.
There’s no way the looks he just received from his partner could be interpreted as simply casual perusal. No, Ford was sizing him up and liking what he saw. Dana knew that look, especially on a man. He looked over at Brian and thanked him for the backup. He was going to need every ally he could muster if he was going to snag Ford’s stubborn ass.
“Ball’s in your court.”
Dana gave Brian a one-armed hug and walked off.
Ford
Ford got up from his chair again – fifth time in twenty minutes – he couldn’t sit still. He alternated between wanting to choke his brother for ditching him and making him look stupid, not to mention desperate, and wanting to text Dana and tell him a lie that they’d turned off his cable. His eyes were usually glued to Sports Center before it was time for the game to start – him and Brian arguing stats – but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about them right now. He checked his watch again. It was four minutes past the last time he’d checked it. He looked around at the meager furnishings in his home, grimacing at the lack of hominess. Decorating was never his strong suit. On the mantle he had a couple pictures of him and Brian as boys on the farm and one with him and his SEAL team. That was the only thing of value in there. He kept his high-end gadgets in the vault at the office. Then of course, he had a few weapons in his home. Ford could care less about the tiny dinette set he’d got from a thrift store or the loveseat and mismatched recliner, Dana would probably hate it.
Ford tightened his jaw and fisted his hands. This was exactly what he’d been referring to when he said he was worried about complications. Already he was questioning if his place was good enough. If he doesn’t like it, then screw him. Ford dropped back down in his chair, determined not to get up again. The game would be starting in fifteen minutes and Dana better not be—
A sharp knock at the door cut off his thoughts. “It’s open,” Ford barked from across the room.
Dana peeked around the door before he stepped fully inside. He had a twelve pack under one arm and two DiGiorno pizzas in the other.
How much does he think we’re going to eat and drink?
“Hey. What’s up?” Dana automatically headed towards the kitchen, looking at home in only five seconds flat. “You want me to put these in the oven?”