Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“The cat.” Rolling his eyes, Esteban shooed both cat and Russ into his condo.
Despite the familiar layout, it was a far cry from Russ’s white walls and utilitarian furniture. The living space was dominated by a large white leather sectional covered in colorful throw pillows. The far wall had been painted a lime green and in its center was a large painting of a stylized rural marketplace scene. The dining table was red with what appeared to be deliberately mismatched painted chairs. A basket of kid toys jockeyed for space with a cat climbing structure in the sunny corner near the front window.
The whole effect was very Californian and what Judy would have called flea-market chic. Russ found very personable and welcoming. Very Esteban.
“I like your place. Lots of color.”
“Yeah? Not too much for you? I’ve seen your place, remember? Beige doesn’t count as an accent color, my friend.”
“I don’t dislike color. I just… Neutrals are easy. And I’m not into shopping.”
He wasn’t sure how to explain that he envied people with a natural ability to make a space a home. He could fit pieces in a room, maximize cabinets, and create aesthetically pleasing arrangements, but the ability to create a warm, welcoming place like Esteban’s was something he was still working on.
“I do enough ordering and comparison collating at work,” he said. “For my place, I pretty much got the sturdiest-looking pieces in my price range and called it good.”
“More of that decisive spirit. Which I like, even if it does result in a Swedish camping store vibe.” Chuckling, Esteban led the way to his kitchen. “We’ll add some teal dish towels or something to the list for our Kitchen Kaboodle outing.”
“We have an outing?”
“Well, your skillet isn’t going to replace itself.” Esteban set the bakery box on the table as they passed it.
His voice was light, like all these proposed trips weren’t suspiciously close to actual dating. Or maybe Russ simply didn’t have enough experience with how adult, non-military friendships worked. Maybe Esteban would make these offers to any acquaintance, but it certainly felt…personal. Like Esteban cared.
“Okay. Maybe you can help me make an actual list.” No matter what this was, Russ would be a fool to turn it down. “And wow. Are you sure you want a remodel? Even a hypothetical one?”
Esteban’s older cabinets, possibly original, had been painstakingly painted robin’s egg blue. And, in lieu of the more typical tile backsplash, he had hung a line of what appeared to be ceramic coasters. The refrigerator looked older, but the newer stove had a simmering stock pot of something that smelled amazing.
It was clearly a DIY space, but it had a certain charm. Like anyone who visited could tell that someone who liked to cook lived here.
“Unfortunately, yeah. Eventually. There’s only so much that fun paint can hide.” Esteban started opening cabinets, revealing several that, on closer inspection, had structural problems. And he could see now how the older design wasn’t an efficient use of space, not enough well-allocated storage space for someone as into cookware as Esteban. “And this was a nice stopgap, but I could use a real backsplash, easy to wipe down, and better lighting. And the layout…I’m not sure exactly what I want, but it feels like there has to be a more efficient layout that would have more continuous counter space.”
“Got it.” Digging out his sketchbook, Russ started taking notes. “I can work with that.”
“You’re cute when you concentrate.” Laughing, Esteban stirred his soup.
“You can save the fake compliments for when we’re around other people.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing again, but he probably was.
“You skip the mirrors at your place along with the color?” Esteban gestured with the spoon, like he was scolding Russ. “You’re fishing for me to extol all your good qualities.”
“Says the guy who looks like he deserves his own Hollywood star.” Russ realized too late that he might have revealed too much with that, but Esteban simply smiled.
“Thanks. And trust me. Plenty of people dig the whole ex-military badass look you’ve got going. And blond baby bears are always going to have a fan club.”
“I guess.” Not wanting to be accused of digging for praise again, Russ didn’t object to this characterization. But the truth was that he wasn’t quite in the same shape he’d been at eighteen when he joined the marines and that got him down sometimes.
“You could add a beard if you’re truly worried.” Esteban’s eyes sparkled.
“Or more plaid.” His uncertain mood fled as his body remembered how fun it was to banter with Esteban. “But the fact that I don’t drink coffee or wine…that might be a more serious barrier to pulling around here.”
“I won’t tell.” Esteban’s smile was downright mischievous as he removed two large ceramic bowls from a cupboard. The stretch made his soft blue shirt ride up and his jeans hug his perfect ass. “Do you want to get your measurements first? Or are you hungry?”