Hot Sauce (Suncoast Society #26)(6)

And that would have been a damn shame, because Reed was the love of his life.

Yes, they both played around with men and women at the club, and occasionally even fooled around in bed with women, but they weren’t interested in dangerous casual flings that might break them up. Some of their friends had gone from happy twosomes into gleeful threesomes, but that wasn’t really on their radar.

Although, never say never.

That weekend, they were going to the club again. They had been scheduled to meet up with another friend of theirs, Basco, last Saturday night to play, but the man had been a no-show without so much as a message why.

Which was unlike Basco, but sometimes life intervened. They knew Basco lived with his sister, who had no idea about the kinky and bi side of her brother’s life. He’d warned them that there might be times he’d have to ditch them at the last-minute, without warning, if she needed him.

Before now, that had rarely happened. Also, Basco was always good about sending them a note via FetLife or Facebook if he had to cancel on them.

Basco was an acquaintance and play partner, but they hadn’t taken things farther than that with him, yet. Not that they wouldn’t have liked to, but they knew Basco was still struggling with keeping his vanilla life separate from his kinky life because of his sister, and even because of his job, to a certain extent. Basco didn’t like to lie to his sister any more than he had to about his activities and time spent away from home.

Basco had never given them the impression that his sister was a ballbuster or nosey. In fact, what he had revealed about her to the men had indicated he was very protective of her, worried about her, that she was a workaholic. Basco didn’t want to add more stress to her already stressful life.

Lyle and Reed had, however, discussed talking to Basco about stepping up their play to a sexier level, maybe even sex, if he was open to it. Nothing permanent, more a play partners with benefits kind of dynamic.

Maybe he’ll be there this weekend.

Although Lyle had a slightly funny feeling in the pit of his stomach about that. A hunch that maybe something big had happened. Maybe even something bad.

It was unlike Basco to totally go off the radar for several days in a row and not even answer private messages sent via Fet or Facebook within a few hours. They didn’t have his cell number, but he hadn’t given them that and explained he also used it for work and rarely gave it out to anyone, which Lyle could understand. Basco had told them he’d be getting a prepaid phone he could carry with him, but just hadn’t had time to do it yet.

Trying to shove those thoughts out of his mind, Lyle thought about dinner. Fish meant a variety of things. There was plain and simple, baked with a little lemon pepper, or he could try something fancier, depending on the kind of fish Reed brought home. Light and flaky fish were different than heavier, oilier fish.

Maybe I could use the smoker.

Now he was just getting ahead of himself and he knew it. He’d have to wait until tonight to find out. It was sort of like Christmas, in a way.

A fishy way. Well, maybe not exactly like Christmas, but a surprise. The fun kind of surprise, not the “hey, you’re getting an IRS audit” kind of surprise.

Fish for dinner. Nom!

Maybe Reed would even be in the mood to have him for dessert later.





Chapter Three


Reed texted Lyle when he was on his way home, the freshly-cleaned grouper filets safely stored in a zip-top baggy and chilling on ice in a small cooler he kept for just that purpose. Lyle would, no doubt, work some magic with it.

The man always did.

It wasn’t that Reed didn’t like to cook. He did, but he didn’t have the patience or finesse Lyle did. Reed would make big pots of spaghetti, or a large meatloaf, or a slow cooker full of pulled pork, or something like that.

Quantity with a stick-to-the-ribs aspect.

That’s how he’d fed himself after his divorce, before he met and moved in with Lyle. He’d cooked large, had leftovers, and usually got away with cooking only once or twice a week. Nothing fancy, but good, in a large enough batch he could portion it out over several days.

Or sometimes he’d stop at the grocery store on the way home, buy pre-bagged salad and some cherry tomatoes, pan sear fresh fish on the stove, and cut it up for on top of the salad.

Again, leftovers for a couple of days, at least.

When they’d moved in together, Lyle, already well aware of Reed’s cooking habits, declared he’d be the primary chef. It only made sense, because Reed nearly always returned home later than Lyle.

Lyle met Reed at the door with a kiss and an outstretched hand, ready to take the cooler from him. Already, Reed could smell the aroma of something yummy wafting through the house.

“What’s cooking?”

“Broccoli casserole to go with the fish.” He headed for the kitchen. “Get your shower. I’ll have dinner ready in about twenty minutes.”

Reed did just that. By the time he emerged, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, Lyle was ready to serve dinner.

Reed leaned in and kissed him. “You take such good care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Lyle’s whole face lit up, his brown eyes full of joy. “I love you. Why wouldn’t I take care of you? You take care of me.”

“Yeah, but not like this.”

“Hey, you take care of me in other ways. You help out with the house, and you pay your own way.” He grinned, cupping his hand over Reed’s bulge, which started hardening under his partner’s palm. “And like that.”