Fucking stupid head. Fucking stupid body. Why the hell did they have to react to a guy? To this guy? To Saint’s younger brother. Saint would have my balls if he knew I was thinking of his brother. Shit, there were twelve years between us. I shouldn’t even have been thinking about a guy that age. A guy in the first place.
“Ah, good,” he squeaked. I would have found it cute, but I didn’t, not with the thought of him with another guy swirling around in my head.
“Then I don’t need to hunt him down?”
I did.
Lucas laughed, but it was forced. “No.” He clapped his hands. “Dinner. I’ll get it. Now.”
Saint’s brows dipped. He looked over his shoulder to Lucas, but his brother was already clattering around in the kitchen. Saint glanced back to me. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“About what?” I growled.
Saint’s brow rose at my tone.
“Sorry, just had a shit day.”
“Yeah, all right. But about that guy? That he had a good time?”
“Dunno.” I shrugged, even when it hurt to move because my body was tense.
“I can hear you,” Lucas called. “Remember what I said about my private life? You don’t need to talk about it.”
“Fine,” Saint called. I went back to looking at the TV. I didn’t watch it, just stared as I listened to Lucas in the kitchen. He hummed when he cooked. Yet another damn cute thing he did. Would it ever stop? I was sure he did this stuff to get me to like him more.
It was some time later when Lucas called, “Dinner.”
Shit, I had to go.
Standing, I said, “I’ll catch up later.”
A throat cleared. I glanced at Lucas. His hair was tied up, and I wanted to reach out to let the curls loose. His cheeks were tinged pink, and he looked everywhere but at me as he stumbled through, “Ah, there’s, um, yeah, enough.” He shrugged, turned, and then went to the table.
Saint’s hand slapped to my shoulder. “Brother, when you taste the shit Lucas cooks, there’s a chance you’ll want to kidnap him.”
Was that a choice?
Lucas coughed, then choked. “Ha, it’s not that good.”
We went to the table and on it sat marinated lamb chops, mashed potatoes, and a bowl of mixed vegetables.
Goddamn. “Looks good,” I said gruffly. I hadn’t had a homecooked meal in a damn long time. Saint was right. I’d already imagined kidnapping Lucas, but after this, I’d want to keep him.
“Thanks,” Lucas whispered. I took a seat opposite him, while Saint sat at the end of the table. We piled our plates. Actually, Saint and I did; Lucas only had two chops and a small number of vegetables.
“You should eat more,” I said before thinking. Lucas’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth as he stared at me with what could be shock.
Saint chuckled. “He’s just a wittle boy still.”
Lucas glared at him. “If you want my food again, you won’t say that. Ever.”
“Got it.” Saint grinned.
“Saint ever cook?” I asked Lucas.
He glanced at me and then down to his food. “No. Not if we want to live. On his days of cooking, it’s always takeout, which is why I try to cook on my days.”
“How’s that gonna go when you start med school?”
His wide eyes lifted to me. I’d heard Saint and Kylo talking about his degree. Didn’t he think I’d be interested? Lucas straightened, cleared his throat, and then shrugged. “I’ll make it work, even with the crazy hours.”
“Thank fuck,” Saint said, rubbing his stomach.
“What made you want to be a doctor?” I asked, and Saint gave me a funny look, which I ignored.
“It’s always appealed to me. Helping people,” Lucas said in a soft voice as he used his fork to play with his food.
“What else do you like to do?” I asked, and it was Saint’s turn to pause with his fork in his hand. I ignored him again, let him think what he wanted because I could easily say he was Saint’s brother and wasn’t it good to get to know him?
Lucas took a sip of his can of soda. “Um… stuff. What’s your real name?”
I smirked but wiped it away. He was deflecting, but at least he was asking me things. “Wade.”
“How did you get Wreck?” He glanced at his brother, and I wanted to punch Saint for taking his gaze away. “In fact, how did you get your club name? You’re no Saint.” Lucas smiled.
Saint chuckled and winked, pointing his fork at his brother. “You know it. I got the name because I look like a saint with my charming self. Little do they know I can turn dark in a second.”
“You? Dark?”
Saint reached out and patted Lucas’s arm. “You just keep believin’ I’m the awesome older brother.”
Lucas laughed. “Awesome? Yeah, okay.”
Why did I fucking feel left out? It irritated me enough to interrupt with “My club name is Wreck because I crashed my ride when I was a prospect.”
“Heard about that,” Saint said. “You wrecked it completely.”
I nodded. “Yep. Was lucky I only got a broken arm from it.” Lucas made a noise and I asked, “What was that?”
His eyes flashed. “What?” He actually looked beside him and over his shoulder.
“That noise. What was with the noise about my accident or my club name?”
His face turned red. “Nothing.”
“Oh, it was somethin’,” Saint said with a chuckle. “He wouldn’t turn that red if it wasn’t.” Saint cursed. “Shit, don’t kick me, bro.”
“It was nothing,” Lucas said again.
“Lucas,” I said low.
“Anyway, how about the weather?” He tried to change the subject, but I wasn’t having it.
“Lucas,” I growled.
“Would you look at the time. It’s getting late.” He stood.
“Lucas,” I clipped, leaning forward in my chair.
Lucas groaned, ran a hand down his face, and said, “Fine.” He sat back down, his eyes to the table.
