Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He put the noodles on to boil when he heard the shower go on—alone, Zack never took a very long shower. Together...well, that was another story. They still hadn’t made it as far as a bed or even the couch yet, and certainly no “Honey, I’m home” kissing, but Pike had invited himself into Zack’s predinner shower two days ago and scored a repeat of last week’s shower jerkfest, luckily without the heavy talk before. Other than that, though, they had the weirdest friendship of Pike’s life going on.
He’d pretty much decided that the whole friends-with-secret-benefits thing meant that he had free rein to flirt and touch as much as he wanted as long as they were alone at the house here. Which Zack tolerated, and occasionally seemed to really like, but Zack didn’t initiate anything himself, despite giving off waves of Alpha-man vibes. They hung out together after Zack got home, working on house stuff or playing video games, but they went to bed alone, Pike’s innuendo-laced jokes aside, and they only really talked casual stuff.
But even with all the awkward sexual tension between them, Pike was turning into his damn cats, counting down until the man walked in the door, ready to wrap himself around his legs. He simply liked hanging out with the guy, liked having him around and liked doing things for him, like this dinner.
“That smells amazing.” Sure enough, Zack had pulled on jeans but no shirt. Still barefoot. Pike was developing a serious thing for those feet—long and narrow and frequently a bit banged up, a reminder of all the hard labor Zack put in on duty. If Pike had Zack’s kind of muscle definition, he’d never wear a shirt at home either. Hell, he’d just stand in front of a mirror, admiring himself.
Without being asked, Zack grabbed two plates and silverware and set the table, even pouring a glass of milk for himself and some water for Pike.
“Do you want to try painting after dinner?” Pike asked as he set the pasta dish on a hot pad between them. “I did all the taping when I got home for my room and the spare room.”
“Yeah, we can paint.” Zack helped himself to a portion of pasta that would easily feed a buffalo. Pike had already had enough meals with the guy to know that he could pack away food—all that nonstop activity. “But do you want to sleep in the paint fumes?”
“I could always join Gizmo.” Pike winked at him. The cat had taken up permanent residence on the end of Zack’s bed ever since his daring rescue. Ask me to sleep in your room. Ask. Pike tried to beam the suggestion at Zack but he continued eating, oblivious as always, not even cracking a smile. “Or I could bed down on the couch if it’s too heinous, but they got that low VOC paint for us to use.”
The senior chief’s smiling pregnant wife had dropped off an industrial-sized paint bucket and supplies a few days ago. The whole interior of the house would be done in the same off-white shade. She’d laughed heartily at Pike’s suggestion that they could add some color. Accent walls or something. But she’d said the same thing his mom always did. “We’re not on HGTV. Rentals and flips always sell better with plain walls.” Blech. When Pike got a place for real, he was totally painting something magenta, just for kicks.
“This food is incredible.” Zack was chowing down like his mealtime was timed—he was the fastest eater Pike knew, probably as a result of his military training, but at least he was appreciative. “Seriously. I had no idea you could actually cook. Thank you.”
Pike resisted the urge to preen. “It’s nothing. And to be honest, I had to call my mom twice for tips.”
“You guys are really close, huh?”
“Well, it’s always been just the two of us, so yeah, we’re kind of a team.”
“Have you told her about the house?” Zack’s tone was cautious.
“Of course. We were talking while I was taping earlier. She’s all into hearing about the rehab.” And you. But of course Pike wasn’t adding that part. Zack’s leery expression and slowed-down eating said that he wasn’t ready to hear that Pike had dished to his mom about how hot Zack was and how twisted up Pike was. “And better I talk about the house than bitching about my job.”
Zack’s hand stilled as he reached for seconds. “Job not going well? It’s not because of the house stuff, is it? Because you’ve been doing a lot—”
“That’s not it.” Pike’s body heated as if he’d cuddled into an electric blanket. It meant a lot that Zack had noticed his efforts to make headway on the rehab list and that Zack actually cared about Pike’s work. That had to count for something, right? “It’s just hard being the youngest guy in the department by about a decade, and I’m not sure my syllabus is any good, and I’m not sure my students are actually learning anything—never mind.” Jeez. What right did he have complaining about his job to a guy who endured quite literal torture for his?