Free Max and the Prince by R. J. Scott Page A

that?”
    “I think the chance is that this might be connected to the
case. I’m following it through. I have a tech guy trying to chase down who may
have sent it so we know for sure.”
    “Thanks, Ross.”
    He went back in and he and Lucien ordered another drink
each. Sitting here people-watching was a calm interlude and bit by bit Lucien
was relaxing.
    And there was no way that Max was ruining that by telling
him about Tommy.
     

Chapter 7
    Lucien stood in front of the mirror in his underwear with his
arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed in a tight line. Every single
shirt he owned was on the bed, and this was just for the post-meet party. What
the hell would he be like for this stupid double date shit he had agreed to?
He’d only done it to wind Max up, but damn the man, he’d just turned around and
said okay. Then he’d held Lucien’s hand as they walked away, then again in the
coffee shop.
    He was taking this fake boyfriend thing too far with the
touching and the smiling and the friendliness. Way too far considering Lucien’s
reaction to the wholly innocent touch. With a curse, Lucien relaxed his stance
and pulled the dark red T-shirt from the bed. This was the best of a bad lot.
At least it fitted nicely, hugging in all the right places, and it didn’t have
some stupid logo or slogan on it. He didn’t want to stand out for the wrong
reasons, hell, he didn’t want to stand out at all. Finally he hung it on a
hanger on the outside of the door. He needed to pack it because they were going
straight from the meet, but he would leave it until the last minute. Jeans were
easy. He only owned a few pairs and he packed his favorite ones into his bag.
Butter soft and worn, they hugged him like a second skin over his ass and he knew
he looked good in them. He’d had enough people tell him that, both other men
and girls who pinched his ass and told him he was cute.
    Finally he packed his expensive shower gel and deodorant and
the T-shirt, which he laid as carefully as he could without it creasing.
    “Ready?” Max asked from the door. Lucien twisted to face
him.
    “Jeez, knock,” he snapped.
    Max quirked an eyebrow and looked him up and down. “Transport
is picking us up at the pool in thirty, you know.”
    “It only takes ten to walk there,” Lucien countered.
    “I take it you’re going to wear clothes?” Max glanced over
at the bed, and Lucien nearly died on the spot. All his clothes were out,
strewn this way and that in untidy choice piles: yes s, no s, and maybe s.
    “I’m having a clear out,” he defended. Lying was an easier
than facing the potential embarrassment of Max thinking he was worrying about
what the hell to wear to a party where everyone was going to be off their faces
with alcohol. Well, all except him and Max, he guessed.
    “I’ll be downstairs,” Max said. He left, and to Lucien’s
relief, he pulled the door closed behind him. Lucien dressed quickly in
sweatpants and a sports tee and considered hanging up at least one or two of
his shirts before deciding he’d sort it before bed. A knock sounded on the door,
and he yanked it open, ready with a sarcastic reassurance that he was ‘coming the
fuck now’. Instead of Max, though, Jamie stood there.
    “Hey,” Jamie said.
    “Hey, what’s up?” Lucien picked up his clothes bag and swung
it over his shoulder, then grasped his swim bag.
    “Do you have a fiver I can borrow?”
    “Hang on.” Lucien opened his drawer and pulled out a note
from his small stash of fives and tens and passed it over. He closed the door
behind him, then he and Jamie went downstairs companionably.
    “I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Jamie said, then with the
quickest of hugs, he disappeared into the kitchen. Lucien didn’t have time to
worry that something seemed a little off with Jamie, and instead he and Max
left and walked fairly briskly to the pool and the waiting bus. The meet was
only a short ride away but Lucien was going to use the time