Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Ah, hell. I can’t let a friend do that. “I’ll drive you home,” I offer.
Nate doesn’t live far, and it’s the right thing to do. We hop into my wheels, and on the way to the Marina, we chat about the game this weekend. As the bay comes into view, dark and inky at night, Nate blows out a long stream of air. “So, anything you want to talk about?”
He’s too damn perceptive. I don’t think the Seductive hat was the giveaway. My friend knows I hang with my buddies unless there’s a guy I’m into. So, of course, he’s added up the clues of my disappearance after our last game and, now, tonight.
It’s a good thing it’s only Nate who’s sleuthed it out. I’m supposed to be a team leader, and role models don’t mess around with off-limits guys. My teammates wouldn’t like it if they knew. Coach would think I was sharing plays or some stupid shit like that. Fans would lose their minds and call me a traitor. It’s an unwritten rule—don’t mess around with your rival.
I tighten my grip on the wheel and slap on a smile. “What’s on your mind?”
“Jaybird,” he says, a gentle warning. “Be careful, okay?”
My shoulders tighten as I pull over in front of his house and weigh my options—deny, lie, or evade.
I’m tired of lying, but there’s no way I’m serving up the truth. I’ve got to protect Beck, so I choose avoidance. “Appreciate that, man.”
Nate gives a crisp nod and goes into his home.
Maybe I’m not such a role model after all. But for tonight, I’m more than fine with just being me—a guy who wants to take care of his guy.
At home, I find a sexy man stretched out on my couch with a cat curled up on his chest, both of them sound asleep.
My heart clutches. Like a happy fool, I gaze at the pair of them as I pad to the couch, sinking down on the other side. Maybe I’ll read here till he rouses. Check my messages. Play a word game.
I set Hazel’s book on the coffee table, and Beck stirs. Rubs his eyes. Blinks them open. “Hey,” he mutters as Taco leaps off his chest like his furry ass is on fire and hightails it to another room.
“Hey, you,” I say softly.
“Sorry again,” he says, then sits.
I slide over next to him, threading my hand through his hair, savoring the soft strands. “Don’t apologize. I’m where I want to be.”
“I owe you a blow job. Or maybe fifty,” he says, guilt threading through his tone.
“I won’t turn one down, but no, you don’t.”
“You knew what to do.”
I cup his cheek and turn his face to make him meet my gaze. “I care about you.”
I know he believes me. I can see it in his eyes, all vulnerable and bright. But I know, too, this is hard for him—this secret thing between us.
“What can I do for you, Jason?” he asks, his voice stretched thin. “I was going to cook you something amazing, but I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten dinner. And I thought maybe I could train your cat to shake paws, but then he decided to sleep on me.”
I laugh, stroking his hair. “Baby, you already did something for me.”
“Were you looking for an excuse to get out of the drinks? Bennies of me being anti-social, I guess,” he says, poking fun at himself.
“No,” I say, not taking the humor bait. We can only be like this in these stolen private moments. I want us to be as authentic as possible. “What you did tonight was a big fucking deal.”
He scoffs. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not. You told me what was going on with you. That means a lot to me. That is a big deal.” I take a beat and blow out a breath. “Thank you.”
A sliver of a smile shifts his lips. “You mean it?”
I kiss the corner of his mouth. “It takes a lot of guts to be honest. You were, and I’m really glad.”
Beck kisses me back, and it’s a devastating kiss. I want to read so many things into the possessive way he holds my face and strokes my jaw. I want to read words into his touch—scary and wonderful words.
When he breaks the kiss, he squares his shoulders. “Are you hungry?”
I laugh. “Always.”
“Then let me cook for you.”
He’s determined to repay me, but he doesn’t need to. Still, I won’t turn down a good meal, especially when it will make him happy. “Let’s do it, Chef Cafferty.”
He stands, reaches for my hand, and takes me to the kitchen. There, he makes me sautéed chicken and asparagus, along with shishito peppers—my absolute favorite food. As he whips up the meal, he tells me his favorite parts of Hazel’s latest book. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to show me he can be easygoing. Pretty sure he needs to show me, so I let him have the floor.