He was trying. Gage liked that about him.
“Do you need help with anything else?” O’Neil asked.
Gage shook his head. So O’Neil turned to leave, except Gage stopped him. “How was the cake?”
O’Neil’s ears turned pink. “It was fine.”
“Just ‘fine’?”
O’Neil frowned. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Ben’s cakes are some of the best around.”
The alpha stared. “You sound like you know him.”
Gage shrugged. “It’s a small town. You’d be missing out if you haven’t had his buns.”
For a second, O’Neil looked as though he’d been punched. Then Gage remembered—maybe O’Neil liked him. And this talk about Ben made him jealous. Even though Gage was talking about Ben’s confectioneries, instead of his bottom.
It made Gage wonder, though—how riled-up could he make O’Neil?
“He’s a pretty sweet omega,” Gage said mildly, his instincts rumbling. “Did you meet him when you went? He’s kinda pretty.”
O’Neil tensed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
Gage put a bit of fondness into his voice. “You’ll recognize him. He’s about this tall, blond—”
The alpha scowled and turned, heading for the door. Yeah, he was jealous, all right.
Gage wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t into alphas. He’d never dated them, never slept with them. But this felt like a challenge somehow.
He followed O’Neil into the hallway, his pulse thumping in his ears. “You like me.”
O’Neil spun around so fast, he surprised Gage. But the look in his eyes—that stopped Gage in his tracks.
Gage expected many things of other people. But he hadn’t expected Ulric O’Neil to look so brittle in that moment, scared and vulnerable and defensive.
“No, I fucking don’t,” O’Neil snarled.
Then he stalked away and slammed the door to his own room, and for the longest moment, Gage couldn’t move.
8
Why Does Gage Have To Make The Perfect Breakfast, Too?
“Let’s be friends,” Gage said, surprising Ulric the next morning.
Ulric almost dropped his spatula. “What?”
All he’d intended was to fry up some bacon, scramble eggs for his breakfast, and retreat upstairs. He’d thought Gage had left for work. He should’ve put on some decent clothes. And styled his hair. And shaved.
Gage stepped into the kitchen wearing his gym trainer clothes, a towel slung across his shoulders. His hair dripped from a recent shower, and... well. He looked as handsome as always. Ulric wanted to taste the water droplets trickling down his neck.
“Friends,” Gage said. “You know, we become bros. We watch TV and have game nights and everything.”
Ulric stared suspiciously at him. Surely Gage had discovered Ulric’s feelings after yesterday’s outburst. Why wasn’t he scrambling the hell away? “You already have friends.”
Gage shrugged. “I can make more friends, right?”
“With me?”
“Why not?” Gage glanced at the coffee machine on the counter. “Mind if I grab some coffee?”
“Sure. There’s plenty of mugs.”
Gage peeked into the cabinets, his gaze locking onto the mug that stood out against all the rest—the one with rows of little cartoon ducks all the way around it. Ulric’s favorite.
For a moment, Gage looked as though he might grab that mug. Ulric stopped breathing and just stared, wondering if he wanted Gage to use it. Wondering if he wanted Gage’s lips on where Ulric had put his mouth.
Gage glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ulric’s eyes with a smile. “Nah, I won’t give you a heart attack.”
He took the next mug instead, but Ulric’s heart had stuck on that quick thump-thump-thump. He watched as Gage poured himself coffee—black, no sugar. Gage gulped some down, his eyebrows lifting. “This is good stuff.”
Ulric shrugged. “It’s freshly-ground beans.”
“No, like. It’s expensive stuff.” He took another sip, his throat working. “I’ve had this once before. At a fancy restaurant. It cost twenty bucks a cup.”
Ulric looked back at his bacon. Gage was right, actually. It was one of the priciest coffees you could get your hands on—it had a rich, dark flavor, earthy and smooth, slightly bitter. Ulric had figured he’d need something special to get through today. “Well, don’t waste it, then.”
“I won’t.” Gage grinned and wandered over. Ulric tried not to breathe in that pine scent. He tried not to fixate on Gage’s smile.
He didn’t know what had possessed him to invite Gage here, but this still felt like a dream. Gage in his house, drinking his coffee, smiling at Ulric and asking to be his friend. Gage smelled like soap and pine, and his skin looked soft. His lips, too.
He’s going to hurt me. Ulric flipped the bacon and turned on the burner for the other pan. “I’m making scrambled eggs. You want some?”
“I’ll cook them. Can’t let you do all the work.”
Ulric frowned. But Gage only winked, in that suave way that weakened Ulric’s resolve.
“I make a mean plate of scrambled eggs.” Gage pulled the egg carton from the fridge. Then the cream and butter. “We could do a cook-off, but maybe another day. I have to get to work.”
“Maybe.” Ulric wouldn’t say no to Gage making him food. “Pot roast?”
“Ribs.” Gage grinned. “Juicy, pluck-the-bones-out ribs that are so tender, it’s better than sex.”
“You can make food better than sex?” Sex with Gage would already be incredible. “I doubt it.”
Gage bumped his arm, looking smug. “Yeah, tell me that after you’ve eaten my food,” Gage growled. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks you’ll groan like you’re about to come.”
“I’ll bet you a hundred.”
Gage’s smile grew, a confident slash of pink that just about dropped Ulric’s pants.
Ulric made himself focus on the bacon. Next to him, Gage melted some butter in the pan. He cracked eggs into a bowl and beat them up, adding generous pours of heavy cream.
It was going to be a decadent meal—Ulric could already tell. “That’s what you make for your morning-after breakfasts, isn’t it?” he muttered.
“How’d you guess?” Gage poured the eggs into the pan. “I haven’t had a single person complain about it.”
Ulric didn’t want to think about Gage’s one-night stands, either. He
