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Scott stroked the backs of his fingers over Kip’s face. “It’s completely selfish, actually. I want to see you in a tux that was tailored to your gorgeous body. I might not be able to dance with you that night, but you’ll know I’ll be wishing I was.”
“No. But if he does come over here—Okay, he sees you.” “How can you tell?” “Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
“Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.
“What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.”
The Kingfisher now had named a drink after Scott. Only Kip and Scott knew why it had blueberry juice in it.
