Home > Burn Zone (Hotshots #1)(38)

Burn Zone (Hotshots #1)(38)
Author: Annabeth Albert

   “Thanks. Can I help?”

   “You can take a shower.” Linc’s nose wrinkled. “I’m betting you just came back and collapsed?”

   “Something like that.” Jacob gave a self-conscious laugh. “And I’d invite you to join me, but it’s barely big enough for me. Your master shower has spoiled me.”

   “Well, I’m glad someone appreciates it. Tiling in there was a bitch.” As usual, Linc shrugged off the praise. “Go. Shower. And we’ll see what you’re up to after the food.”

   “Is that a proposition? Please?” He grinned at Linc as he grabbed a towel.

   “We don’t want you worn out for tomorrow...”

   “Then you can do all the work.” Winking, he headed for the shower before Linc could come up with more reasons why they shouldn’t fuck. Now that Linc was here, he was feeling way better, and sex sounded like the perfect distraction from all the ways he’d screwed up.

   Despite the cramped quarters, he took his time in the shower, not jacking off, but doing plenty of thinking about what they could do after dinner.

   “Are the dogs going to be okay?” he asked Linc when he emerged, not bothering with clothes beyond a pair of briefs. If his lack of dress bothered Linc, so much the better.

   “Yeah, I stopped off there for some herbs for your soup and fed them early, checked the water, and made sure they had access to their run. They’re fine.” Linc dished up the soup into the only two bowls Jacob owned, both castoffs from his mom, one with snowflakes and one with superheroes. “Eat slow, okay? I don’t want you puking up my hard work.”

   “I won’t. You really brought herbs for me?” Somehow that touched him even more than the rest of it.

   “Didn’t trust you to have dried stuff on hand.” Linc shrugged. “And it’s nothing that special—chicken breast, couple of vegetables, a little rice for body.”

   “Well, it smells great.” He took the seat opposite Linc at the table. “I’d praise you for figuring out my kitchen setup, but this probably wasn’t your first time cooking here, right? Is it too weird being here?”

   He hated bringing up Wyatt, but he didn’t like dancing around the fact that this was his old place either.

   “I probably made a hangover cure here a couple of times. Not sure. We didn’t hang out here a ton—I was gone a lot back then. And it’s cramped. Wyatt was always one for having his whole crowd together. Can’t really fit more than two in here.”

   “Not comfortably at least. I’ve tried.” Jacob laughed before tasting the soup. Linc was right—it was simple, but good. Creamy with the rice, subtly seasoned with rosemary and onion, and soothing on his stomach.

   “Don’t tell me that.” Linc made a sound that might as well have come from a prissy maiden aunt for all its self-righteousness.

   “I didn’t mean an orgy. God. Just friends hanging out.” He took another bite, then added, “Honestly, you’re the first date I’ve had over in a long time. I’m not nearly as wild as you seem to think I am.”

   “This isn’t—”

   “A date. Yeah, you tell yourself that, but generally a guy shows up to cook for me, brings a beverage and doesn’t mind me being in my underwear, it’s a date.”

   “A sports drink is hardly the same as wine.”

   “That’s your defense? You brought me four flavors. Come on. Admit it. This is a booty call with a side of you wanting to check up on me.”

   Linc cared, Jacob knew he did, and with his eyes, he tried to dare him to admit it.

   “I told you. Everyone was worried about you. Me included. We can’t afford to be down a person, not this late into training.”

   “Oh, come off it. You’d be relieved if I dropped out, and you know it.” Now he was back to the same exasperation, knowing full well that Linc wouldn’t shed any tears if he couldn’t pass the test on a second try.

   Huffing out a breath, Linc took his time answering. “That’s not fair. Yeah, I’d rather you not put yourself in danger, especially when your mom’s been through so much. That hasn’t changed. But I also know how much this means to you. I get it now. You’re not simply being a reckless kid here. You want this. And I respect that. Not saying I like it, but I respect it.”

   “You do?” Jacob’s chest pinched, Linc’s respect even more satisfying than his praise, soothing a need he hadn’t even known he’d had.

   “Yeah. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit you’re good at the job, today notwithstanding, and you’re hardly the first rookie to tap out on their first pack-out test. Like you said, puking with extreme exercise isn’t that uncommon. I’ve done it myself and battled heat exhaustion more than a couple of times.”

   “I’m going to pass the next time,” he said firmly.

   “Yeah, you are,” Linc agreed with a sigh. “And so I’m trying to make my peace with you being on the job. I didn’t come here to gloat or to try again to change your mind.”

   “Then why’d you come? Really?” He kept his voice soft, wanting to coax out a real answer.

   Groaning, Linc set down his spoon and pushed his bowl aside. “Fine. I needed to see for myself that you were all right. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I saw how you were doing. That okay?”

   “Yeah.” Jacob liked knowing Linc was there for his own reasons, not just because the others at work were worried or because he felt responsible. But he cared. And maybe Jacob wasn’t ever getting him to admit that, but he did. “I’m glad you came.”

   “You just like my cooking.”

   “That and I want to get laid.” Jacob let himself make light. He knew the truth, and that was enough for now.

   “I noticed.” Linc dropped his eyes to Jacob’s lap and his red briefs, desire clear even if he refused to say it.

   “You like it and you know it.”

   “Maybe. Finish your soup.”

   “Yes, sir.” Jacob gave him a mock salute before digging back into the soup. “I promise I’m feeling better. More than up for work tomorrow. And you tonight.”

   “Don’t wear those to work.” Linc’s eyes still hadn’t left his briefs.

   “You like them.” He preened and let his legs fall open as he took the last bite of his soup.

   “You look ready to accept tips at some Portland go-go bar.”

   “Ah. You’re worried if I wear them to work, people might start slipping fives in my waistband?”

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