When I Need You (Need You #4)(67)

Because the type of adult conversation you want to have is inappropriate in front of your son.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway because I realized . . . I had an entire night to do whatever I wanted. And what I wanted to do most in the world? Jensen Lund.





Sixteen



JENSEN



I'd just finished my Schell beer when my doorbell rang.

Couldn't be Coach Buzzkill since she always knocked.

Maybe she wants to apologize for all but hiding out after that kiss . . . four days ago.

Right. I might as well imagine she's offering that apology on her knees.

"It's open."

My cousins Ash and Nolan strolled in.

"Hey, cuz," Nolan said. "Surprise."

"Hope you don't mind us dropping by," Ash said. Placing one hand on the edge of the couch, he vaulted over the side, landing ass first on the cushion directly across from mine.



       
         
       
        

"By all means, make yourself at home," I said.

Ash gestured to my bottle of beer. "See if Jens has any more of those before you join us in the 1970s pit couch."

Nolan said, "On it," and disappeared into my kitchen.

I looked at Ash. "So you were what? In the neighborhood?"

"I doubt either of us would venture into this neighborhood without a specific reason." He smirked. "Or a loaded firearm."

"Ha ha. Asshole."

"We haven't hung out in a while. So thanks for keeping us on the permanent visitors list so we can just ‘drop by' your humble abode whenever we want."

"I knew that gesture of goodwill and family solidarity after I bought this property would come back to bite me in the ass," I muttered.

Nolan returned with three bottles of Schell. After he handed us each one, he threw himself into the corner of the couch. "Seriously, Jens, you could have an orgy in this thing."

"You say that every time you're over here."

He shrugged. "My mind gets stuck on one track."

"Never have him house-sit," Ash deadpanned.

"No kidding. So you showed up to drink beer? Get your sorry asses kicked at Grand Theft Auto?"

Ash and Nolan exchanged a shocked look.

"What?"

"He doesn't know?" Nolan said.

"Apparently not," Ash replied.

"Know what?" I demanded.

"That when you turn thirty, your right to play video games is revoked," Ash said.

"It's the universe's way of telling you it's time to move on and do something productive with your free time," Nolan added. "Since both Ash and I have passed the three-oh mark, we're banned for life."

I sipped my fresh beer. "There's nothing wrong with gaming."

"Name one person who spends his leisure time with his ass glued to the couch and a joystick in his hand that maintains a successful, fulfilling life."

"Axl."

"Is under thirty."

Shit. "The guys on The Big Bang Theory are all rocket scientists, astrophysicists and engineers, and they're big-time gamers," I pointed out smugly.

"Dude. Those are fictional characters. I guarantee if you ran across a guy like Sheldon Cooper in real life you'd beat the fuck out of him," Nolan said.

Yeah, I could see that.

"Besides, we're pregaming here with one beer," Ash said. He spared my sweaty workout shorts and tank top a quick look. "Then we're going out."

Don't groan and whine that you just got home. 

"Hit the shower and dress casual-in anything besides athletic clothes with a Vikings logo," Nolan advised.

Nolan had a hard-on for fashion in a totally hetero way. He was a Lund Industries executive and his daily uniform was a suit, so his idea of "dress casual" differed from mine. Even slouched on my sofa he maintained an aura of cool sophistication. He wore dark denim and a slim-cut, pale blue shirt with a subtle stripe; the cuffs had a contrasting checked pattern in red. His loafers were funky-unique without being eye-rollingly weird. His style was on trend but not like he was trying too hard to be hip. Or worse, dressing like a hipster, attempting to convince others a stupid fashion statement looked cool.

My feeling of fashion inferiority arose. I'd never developed a sense of style, mostly because I hadn't needed to. I spent eighty percent of my time in workout gear or in uniform. I'd hired Brady's tailor to craft custom suits for me-a guy my size couldn't just buy off the rack-but my closet sorely lacked clothing for casual social occasions such as this.

"Stop staring at him," Ash said to me. "Nolan is already full of himself."

My gaze moved to Ash. As COO at Lund Industries, Ash also lived the suit-and-tie existence. His off-the-clock style was preppy outdoorsman. In terms of cars, I thought of Nolan as sleek and showy like a Ferrari. And Ash-understated power, a workhorse in stealth mode like a Viper.