Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
My mouth went bone dry. “Uh, I’m straight. Mostly straight, anyway. I mean, they say no one is totally straight or gay, but I’m definitely on the straight curve. No offense to the gay curve, but it’s not me. I’m not gay on any curve…I’m—straight.”
My heart thumped in time with the roll of thunder as silence stretched and folded around us.
I rubbed my parched lips together, powering through a bite of my sandwich to keep myself from opening my gob and adding anything else to the stupid column. I wanted to assure him I didn’t mean any insult. One of my best buddies was gay…or bi. I wasn’t putting up the straight shield as a reminder that I wasn’t interested in him “that way.”
But I was interested. And I wasn’t sure what that meant either, so…eating was safe.
The air crackled, buzzing with heat and yearning and questions I hadn’t formulated and feelings I didn’t know how to label. My cock swelled in my joggers, my pulse raced, and still…he was quiet.
And undeniably masculine. And sexy.
But quiet.
“I am gay.”
“I know,” I said softly. “You mentioned that.”
Damn it, this was getting more awkward by the second. I needed help tearing my gaze away from his and steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Since you are very…straight.” He hesitated over that last word before continuing, “You must have many women worried about you. I’m surprised they all haven’t followed you here.”
“No, I haven’t had a girlfriend in a while.”
“Oh? How long?”
“Eight years, I think. Maybe nine.”
Jean-Claude did a double take. “That is shocking.”
I snorted. “Why?”
“You’re not ugly and you play hockey.”
This time, I guffawed. “Gee, thanks. I should put those on my Tinder profile.”
“I’m stating the obvious. I’m sure you have no trouble finding partners, so maybe you aren’t the type who likes to settle down.”
“That’s not it,” I replied, unthinking. “Dating feels like a second sport. It’s fun at first, but then you realize you don’t know the rules. I don’t have time for mind games. I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t feel like work…and that’s on me. I’m too focused on my career, and it’s not going particularly well at the moment. Maybe I’m better off single. You?”
“Better off? No. But I live in Elmwood, so I’ll be single for a while.”
“Will you stay here? It seems like you could go anywhere, open your own restaurant, and make a name for yourself.”
Jean-Claude inclined his chin as he crunched on the last bite of his sandwich. “Maybe I will someday. I’m not in a hurry to leave, though. I like it here. It feels…cozy, yes?”
“I guess. Maybe too cozy. I mean, c’mon…it’s gotta be weird working with your ex. Especially now that he’s married.” I wiped my mouth on my napkin and stacked our empty plates.
“Why? Nolan and I are friends. I have nothing but good feelings for him and Vinnie. Jealousy is a pointless emotion. When you give in to it, you are the only one who is hurt.”
“You’re a more evolved human than I am.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a nice way to say I’m old?”
I pulled a funny face. “Well…forty is officially over the hill.”
He flipped me off. “Find your own tuna. I’m out of here.”
“Hey, forty is the new thirty! I think that makes thirty-five the new twenty-five, so we’re both in luck.” I carried the plates to the sink and moved back to the table as he stood. “Want more wine?”
“No, thank you. I need to go home, take out my dentures, eat Jell-O, and watch Golden Girls. Au revoir, Riley. You have enough tuna for breakfast. Disgusting, but have fun with that. Maybe not enough for lunch or dinner, though. Next time, I’ll teach you how to make it yourself. Bon?”
“Merci,” I replied. “I don’t want to make this weird, but I want to pay you for—”
“Weird. Stop,” Jean-Claude intercepted. “I don’t need money. Call it a neighborly favor.”
“Well…thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced up when the light flickered and wind rattled the window. “Do you know where the flashlights and candles are in case you lose power?”
“Uh…no,” I admitted.
“I do. Come, I’ll help you find them…just in case.” He milled about the kitchen, opening drawers and pulling out flashlights, candles, and matches. He set everything on the table, then ushered me into the hallway and pointed at the basement stairs. “The fuse box is next to the washing machine. You may not need to touch it, but you should know that all the buttons on the panel should click up. It’s an older box, and it gets temperamental in outages. And before you ask…I lived here with Nolan for a year.”
“Ah, right. Would you mind showing me?” I asked.
Okay…I’d done it again. It was as if my mouth were operating on its own steam and I was just along for the ride. I didn’t need help finding a stupid fuse box, candles, flashlights, or matches. I could figure out which buttons turned lights off and on, for fuck’s sake.