Page 3 of Scorched

Tidy’s goofy smile never dimmed. Asshole. “Oh, I never said I haven’t tried. Have you ever been with a Frenchman? Holy shit, they have passion. Fabrice is a pretty fiery guy. I imagine he would be one hell of a ride.”

Kirkland punched him. His knuckles colliding with Tidy’s face felt damn good. He felt young again. “Oops.” Kirkland didn’t even try to keep the malevolence from his tone.

The hit only made Tidy more obnoxious. He laughed like a hyena even as he held his eye. “I knew you were into him. You might be good at hiding your expressions, but everything else about you screams how much you want him.”

Now Kirkland was pissed off at himself. “You know nothing about me.”

Tidy dropped his hand. His eye was already starting to bruise, to Kirkland’s satisfaction. “You’re right. I don’t, but I know Fabrice. He’s a romantic, and he doesn’t give a fuck about your age. If you really have no interest in the guy, you should just say that and stop acting aloof. His life has been hard enough.”

Kirkland didn’t know how to react.

“What’s going on in here? Did you start sparring without me?”

Relief poured through Kirkland when Atticus strolled into the room. He gave Kirkland a reason to ignore Tidy. “You’re late.”

Atticus smirked.

Kirkland knew that smile. Foster had delayed him.

Tidy headed for a different area of the gym.

Atticus closed the distance between them and bumped fists with Kirkland. They put on their gloves in silence. Kirkland had been the first person to teach Atticus how to box. He had gotten a good look at Atticus’ life and known Atticus would need to know how to defend himself.

Atticus didn’t say a word, which was unusual for him, until they bounced and sized each other up. Kirkland threw the first punch. Atticus dodged and swung. Kirkland barely got out of the way in time. Their dance lasted several rounds before Kirkland called it quits.

“I’m done in. You know I’m too old for this.”

Atticus snorted. “I know no such thing. You’re just distracted. Let’s talk about it.”

Kirkland hated sharing his feelings, and Atticus knew it. But he taught Atticus to stand tall, proud, and dominate every room he entered. An expensive suit and arrogant attitude got people much farther than being real or nice would ever be. Then to come home and unburden himself with Kirkland. For many years, they had only had each other to talk to.

Kirkland made a dismissive gesture toward the weight room in which Tidy had disappeared. “It’s nothing. I just dislike that guy.” As soon as Kirkland made the claim, he regretted his words. He forgot how close Atticus' husband was with Tidy,

Atticus nodded, taking him seriously. “Do you hate him? Or are you jealous of his friendship with Fabrice?”

“Can’t it be both?” Kirkland growled. “I don’t even know why I’m entertaining this. He’s too young for me anyhow.”

Atticus shot him a death glare. “It’s not like you’re marrying the guy. You have to stop playing the old man game. That life is behind us. This is a fresh start. Hell, just join me in therapy.”

“I am old.” Kirkland practically yelled the words.

“Fabrice obviously doesn’t think so. Trust him to know his mind.”

Kirkland rolled his eyes.

Atticus shook his head. “Fine. Throw away the rest of your life. But now I have a new thing to talk to my therapist about. You wasted your life on me. I have to live with that.”

Atticus walked away, leaving Kirkland alone with his anger. Atticus hadn’t stolen anything from Kirkland. His rage was the thief.

Chapter Two

When the sun disappeared, Fabrice made his way outside with his dinner. The food had been served. The kitchen staff could handle the rest. This was his favorite time of night. He could eat his dinner in peace with a little candle and wine. Fabrice might not have a man, but he could still give himself the best date nights ever. He could spoil himself. Fabrice was his own sugar daddy. He smiled at the thought and cut into his food.

Kirkland appeared, carrying a plate and wine glass. A wine bottle was between his arm and torso. Fabrice wondered if he planned to eat in his room alone. The question got its answer immediately. Kirkland headed his way.

“May I join you?”

He couldn’t have shocked Fabrice more if he had slapped him. “Oui. Please.” Fabrice popped to his feet and pulled the chair out for Kirkland. “Have a seat.”