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)
“You’re nuts.” Russ exhaled hard. “And that’s possibly why I like you so much. Nuts. And nice. Sure, be my date.”
“Maybe she’ll announce the promotion at the party?” Esteban lightly bumped shoulders with him.
“Don’t remind me,” Russ groaned. “I’ve gone through five different ideas for your kitchen. Nothing feels perfect yet, but I showed Connie my progress. And she gave me some other sample spaces to work on. But no decision.”
“You’ll get it.” Giving his hand a fast squeeze, he pulled him toward the stage. “And look. Our director is about to speak. And then Santa arrives. I hope you’ve got a wish ready.”
“Think I can come up with one.” Russ’s voice was almost pained, so Esteban loosened his grip.
“Good. Wish big.”
“You think maybe—”
“Esteban! We’re running low on gingerbread men.” Nancy, his volunteer friend, came bustling over.
“Duty calls.” Handing his water cup back to Russ, he gave him an apologetic look.
“It’s okay. It’ll keep. What else do you need done?” Russ straightened, like he was steeling himself for battle on Esteban’s behalf.
Damn. Someday he was going to make someone else an amazing boyfriend. And someday Esteban might be across the courtyard watching them, and he might have to smile, and… Fuck. That moment was going to suck.
Rebound, he reminded himself, even as his chest pinched with wanting impossible things. It was bad enough that his body couldn’t stop reacting to Russ, but apparently his heart had taken notice too. Damn it. Resisting was getting harder and harder. Worse, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted anymore.
Chapter Seven
Russ couldn’t even fake being annoyed at being greeted by Esteban’s escape-artist cat lurking by his door.
The thing was docile enough, letting Russ pick him up and carry him over to Esteban’s place. Esteban opened the door, apparently mid-change out of his work clothes—gray dress shirt partially unbuttoned and no belt in his black pants. He looked deliciously rumpled, and Russ wouldn’t mind messing him up further.
Meow. Oh, yeah. Right. The cat. He was here about the cat. “Your cat.”
“Thanks. He must have gotten out as I came in.” Esteban sighed and motioned for Russ to come in with the cat.
“I don’t know why he always goes straight for my place. It’s not like I keep kibble or something for him.”
“Maybe he can’t stay away from your rugged good looks,” Esteban said lightly. “Or maybe it’s the frozen food containers in your trash. Speaking of, have you eaten?”
“Not exactly,” Russ hedged.
In the nights since the fundraiser, they’d had dinner twice, once because they’d been intending to make fudge and ended up lingering too long talking, and the other time because they’d run into each other parking their vehicles and Esteban had claimed he had a surplus of some chicken and rice dish.
“Good.” Esteban nodded decisively. “It’s not a bad night to try for the fudge. And I was just about to make fish tacos.”
“You don’t have to feed me.” Russ’s protest was pretty weak, even to his own ears.
“Nonsense. I was craving them all day, but they’re a lot of work to go through for one person. You can help, and we’ll share. Then maybe a batch of fudge afterward.”
“All right. If you’re sure. You look tired. Long day?”
“Yes. Sorting through all the donations from the fundraiser, making sure all the winners got their silent-auction prizes, and setting up our post-Christmas campaign. Lots of time on the phone.”
“Poor you. Same with the phone at my job. I hate being on hold. And everyone is trying to put off big orders until after the holidays, but we’ve got a few jobs trying to finish by Friday, so I had to get firm.”
“Oh. Mean Russ came out. I like it,” Esteban teased, fingering his shirt buttons. Russ swallowed hard against a surge of lust. “Let me go change into something that I won’t care about getting messy. Make yourself at home.”
“Sure.” That wasn’t hard at all. Russ liked it here tremendously, almost more than his own place.
He wished he could put his finger on the vibe that made Esteban’s place so comfortable. It would help him with the sample designs for Esteban’s kitchen. He’d didn’t want just a certain look, but a feeling.
He’d looked at hundreds of kitchens online for inspiration, including some from other countries, walked the showroom floor at work, flipped through sample books, and still hadn’t found the perfect plan that adequately reflected Esteban’s unique style. But he wasn’t giving up.
Exactly like how he wasn’t giving up on this growing friendship with Esteban. There had been so many instances recently when a smoother player, someone with more experience maybe, would have made a move, tried to make their fake relationship real. But doing so could jeopardize the whole friendship thing they also had going, and as much as Russ enjoyed the moments when Esteban turned on the boyfriend charm for an audience, he liked the private Esteban even more, the little gestures and long conversations.