Page 47 of Stealing Home

“I said it was,” Dom muttered.

“We can see that now,” Evan replied. “We should head out. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No,” Gavin said before Dom could speak. All three men looked at him, and he shifted slightly. “Don’t leave on my account.”

Dom studied his face as if trying to decide whether Gavin meant it.

He did.

Mostly.

The initial disappointment lingered, but beneath it was something that felt a lot like relief. Four people around a table was less complicated than two. There would be fewer silences to misread. Fewer opportunities for Gavin to forget this wasn’t a date.

Evan hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” Gavin handed the wine to Dom. “My mother would kill me if she found out I let people leave a house when there was dinner cooking.”

Dom’s mouth curved, and he took a step to the side to let Gavin inside. He leaned closer as Gavin passed.

“My mother would do the same thing.”

Their shoulders brushed. It was barely a touch, but it sent a shiver all the way down his spine.

He followed Dom into the kitchen before his body could make anything more of it. Evan and CJ disappeared back into the living room, and Gavin stopped in the kitchen doorway to take it in. It had only been a couple of weeks, but the room looked lived in now. A counter was dusted with flour and a pot simmered on the stove, fragrant steam curling from beneath the lid. Fresh pasta rested in loose nests on a baking sheet and a cutting board held a pile of chopped basil beside a wedge of Parmesan.

Dom set the wine on the counter. “You really don’t mind?”

Gavin leaned back against the island. “I wouldn’t have said it if I did.”

Dom gave him a look that suggested he didn’t fully believe that. “I know this isn’t exactly what either of us expected.” He paused. “At least I didn’t expect there to be four of us.”

Gavin could have lied. Instead, he glanced toward the living room where Evan and CJ were having a quiet conversation on the couch, completely at ease in Dom’s house.

“I expected dinner,” he said instead. “There’s still dinner.”

Dom’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Right. Dinner.”

Gavin jutted his chin toward the stove. “Need help?”

“You’re a guest.”

“I know how to chop things without supervision though,” Gavin said.

“I don’t know if that’s something to brag about.” Dom grinned.

“I also wash dishes,” Gavin boasted.

Dom’s gaze flickered toward the sink. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Gavin smiled.

Dom pointed at the knife block on the counter by the stove. “You can chop some basil and parsley for me.”

Gavin spotted the cutting boards near Dom, and he moved to stand beside him at the counter. Dom reached across him for a ball of dough, one hand using Gavin’s arm for balance, his chest brushing Gavin’s arm for half a second before he quickly stepped away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s your kitchen,” Gavin said.