On a Roll by Beth Bolden (best historical biographies TXT) 📕

“I could do that,” Sean said.

“You think you could convince me with really, really good sex that I should change the name of my truck?” Gabriel heard how high and wrecked his voice was. “You think you could seduce me?” Oh, he could. So easily. They both knew it.

But that knife cut both ways, and Sean’s own eyes were glassy and unfocused. As he’d been winding Gabriel up, he’d hardly been unaffected himself.

“I think I could,” Sean said. “I think I’m already doing it.”

He was, goddamn it.

“Even if you could,” Gabriel said, “you’re not that kind of guy. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself afterwards.”

Sean shrugged.

“It won’t matter,” Gabriel vowed, though he wasn’t quite as sure as he sounded. “I’m not going to be led around by my dick.”

“Me either,” Sean said, his voice hardening, the steel edge back in his tone. He took a step back and then another, and Gabriel resisted the urge to drag him back. To prove to both of them that they could keep it separate. But maybe Sean was right. Maybe it was impossible.

But then maybe he was right too, and they were inevitable.

“I guess we’re settled, then,” Gabriel said. “It’s back to fighting, and not the fun, sexy, mock kind of fighting where I try to rub your dick every five seconds.”

Sean’s lips compressed into a tight line. “Like I’d actually enjoy that.”

“I actually think you might,” Gabriel said thoughtfully.

“You don’t know me,” Sean said. “Just because you’ve had your tongue down my throat doesn’t mean that you know me.”

“Right, of course not.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. He extended his hand, waving it towards the empty sidewalk. “Well, I apologize. I interrupted your carefully choreographed huffy exit. By all means, continue.”

Sean shot him one last scorching glare—Gabriel felt it down to his toes—and then finished storming off, like they’d never been interrupted by the hottest goddamn kiss he’d ever had in his whole life.

Gabriel wished he could leave it behind so easily, but he already knew he couldn’t.

———

Sean told himself that the next time he saw Gabriel, everything would be exactly the same as always.

The flirting that had happened inside the bar and the kissing that happened outside of it had been a random aberration brought on by his longtime celibacy and too much alcohol.

The next time he saw Gabriel, he would be just as annoyed as he usually was. Then Gabe would say something rude and infuriating, and Sean would hate him like he always had.

The good and bad news was that now that they’d both joined the lot, they saw each other nearly every day. There would be no reprieve for Sean to mentally re-stuff Gabriel back into the same box he’d been in from the beginning. Hopefully, Sean thought as he locked up his bicycle behind his truck and walked up to the back door, pulling his keys out of his pocket, Gabriel would make it easy on him by saying something particularly rude today.

That’d make it . . . not exactly easy . . . but, Sean decided, easier.

He unlocked the back door and walked up the single step to the interior of his truck. It was small, but it was cozy, and two years in, he still loved working here as much as he had the very first day.

This was everything he and Milo had wanted to build together; the dream just looked a little different after his death, but it was still the same dream. With the same name, Sean thought with pride as he pulled his favorite apron off the hook in the corner.

Buried beneath it was one other—was the very first apron he’d worn in this truck. The one that was permanently stained with a big red circle, thanks to Gabriel.

Sean fingered its starched cotton fabric, and nearly put it on instead. Maybe he couldn’t wear armor, but he could protect himself with the knowledge that Gabriel was not a good guy.

Maybe remind Gabriel too, while he was at it.

But his perfectionism wouldn’t allow him to wear something so obviously stained for customers, so he left it behind, pulling on the pristine white one instead.

He’d just begun his prep for the day, when he heard an all-too-familiar voice.

The day was already warm, so he’d opened up the big window that ran the length of the truck, and flipped the little mini fan on, hoping for some circulation. Which meant he couldn’t help but hear everything Gabriel said.

He was talking to Tony. Loudly. Of course, this was Gabriel, did he ever talk at a lower volume? He did last night, Sean’s uncooperative brain supplied. He was practically whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“So, did you guys work it out?” Tony asked.

Gabriel looked right over, and his gaze caught Sean’s. He stared at him for a long moment, and then looked away. Aware now, though he probably had been before, that Sean was listening to every word he was saying.

“Not quite yet,” Gabriel said. “But I’m working on it.”

“You’re working on it?” Tony wondered. “What about Sean?”

Sean was rewarded a thousandfold for his eavesdropping when Gabriel’s face flushed bright red. “Oh, I mean, of course he is too,” he said, nearly stuttering. “He’s definitely . . . involved.”

Tony looked confused. “Okay, then,” he said. “Remember what I said.”

“I know, we’re going to figure this out,” Gabriel said, sounding like he was chock-full of confidence.

“Good.” Tony clapped him on the back, and Sean knew both of them well enough to know that Gabriel didn’t really think they could, and Tony hadn’t believed a word he’d just said.

Ugh.

Why had he let his cock get so carried away last night?

It had made something that was already difficult even tougher.

And that’s on you, Sean’s conscience reprimanded him. You did that.

Technically it had been Gabriel that had incited him, but Sean had been the one to kiss him. Twice.

If Sean could kick himself, he absolutely fucking would.

“So, you’re lying to Tony now, huh?”