Free Prince of the Playhouse by Tara Lain Page A

get the hell over here.” Both dogs looked over their shoulders like, Aw, do I have to? then stopped jumping and bounded over to Ru. He pointed at the ground. “Sit.” For seconds they contemplated the relative advantages of compliance—poodles were too smart for their own good—then both curled their haunches and sat. Ru looked at Gray, who still stood back from the canine attack squad. “Don’t like dogs?”
    He shook his head and walked forward. “No, I like them fine. Sorry. I just can’t see much from under this hoodie, and when things come at me fast, I get spooked.”
    “You get spooked a lot?”
    “Yeah.” He grinned.
    “Ruuuuuuu.” Mrs. O waved from her front lawn, dressed in a long flowered skirt and floppy beaded blouse, holding her purse. “I was going to call and see if you’d babysit the monsters. I’ve got rehearsals for the pageant.”
    He glanced at Gray, who had turned away so Mrs. O couldn’t get a good look under his sweatshirt. Ru muttered, “Do you mind two dogs slobbering on you?”
    Gray shook his head.
    He called to Mrs. O, “Sure. I’ll keep them here for a while.”
    “Thanks so much. See you later. Have fuuun.” She waved as she walked down the street away from Ru’s place. Flopsy let out one big bark but didn’t break his sit.
    Ru held open the screen door. “Okay, monsters, come on in.”
    The dogs bounded through the door, and Gray grinned. “All three of us?”
    “I suppose we can close them inside and apply sleeping gas, but they’re not too bad.”
    “They’re cute. Flopsy and Mopsy?” He pointed at the curling black fur surrounding the bouncing balls. “Would I be correct in assuming that’s Flopsy?”
    “A+ in observation.” Which made Ru think of Gray’s photos. He turned and opened the hall closet door to cover his blush. “Want to hang up your hoodie?”
    Gray pulled off the sweatshirt and thrust it at Ru, who hung it in the closet. When he turned back around, he took a breath. Under the sweatshirt, Gray wore another T-shirt, old and lived-in, that stretched across his shoulders and pecs so lovingly it made the onlooker want to do the same. Or at least this onlooker. Whew. Most works of art looked better from a distance. Not this one. That skin—like melted caramel. If Ru licked him, would he taste sweet? God, I feel faint.
    Gray walked into the small living room. “Nice place.”
    “Thanks.” It might be small and comfortable, but the house had style. The sectional couch—his one major investment—accommodated even a big man like Gray, but the sunny yellow color he’d had special-made screamed Ru. At the moment the yellow was decorated with a healthy application of black and white fur, as the dogs made themselves comfortable. Every other chair, table, and ottoman in the living and dining rooms came from secondhand stores and secret furniture haunts he’d found with Shaz, but the fabrics and unique objects gave it an eclectic and arty look. “Make yourself at home if you can fit in between the canine cushions. What can I get you to drink?”
    “How about some iced tea or just water.”
    “Sure.” He walked into the old-fashioned kitchen. No open concept. Still, the house was small enough that he could be heard in the living room. “Ice? The tea is cold.”
    “No. Cold is fine. By the way, I have dinner being delivered.”
    Hopefully not by his fiancée. “Great.” He leaned back against the cool fridge door. Okay, so you knew having Gray in your house would be challenging. Just be cool. Be a friend. Probably not many people he can trust.
    Shit, he can’t trust me. I might jump his bones at any moment.
    He snorted, took a deep breath, and carried the glasses into the sitting area. Gray sat on the yellow sectional, which looked amazing against his brown hair and golden skin. He’d removed two copies of the Hamlet script from his hoodie. Ru set the tea on the big coffee table made from a slab of old barn wood covered with a piece of