Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“It’s more than a side hustle. It’s my full-time job. Not that Gabe believes that, but it is.” He sounded unnecessarily defensive. “I put in way more than forty hours a week. I had to prerecord a bunch of content to get me through the holidays. I’ll still have to do some live streams, but I cleared enough space to help out.”
“I get no one taking you seriously.” Gentling my voice, I tried to banish my earlier skepticism. “Early on in my military career, I had to do a ton of justifying to people who expected a way different career choice for me.”
I wouldn’t say my parents were disappointed in my career choice, but they certainly weren’t supportive, and it hardly fit with their elite friend group and one-percenter entourage lifestyle. And conversely, military folks were surprised I hadn’t gone for a more status-oriented career in keeping with my privileged upbringing.
“Yeah. Everyone’s got opinions. Including that gaming isn’t a ‘real’ job. But it is.”
“Has Gabe seen your setup?” I gestured at all the blinking monitors and other equipment. “I’d believe you were running a NASA mission from here.”
That earned me a laugh, a real one, musical and genuine, and the sound did something warm and strange to my insides. “Thanks.”
“But where am I going to sleep?” Short of crawling under one of the desks, I wasn’t sure where I’d fit.
“My room. I’ll sleep out here.” Zeb sounded decisive, but I groaned and shook my head.
“Aw, man, I can’t take your bed.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept in my gaming chair, but I planned ahead.” Moving around me, he dragged a large box out from under the closest desk. “I ordered an air mattress.”
The box promised “royal comfort,” but it looked like every other twin-size camping mattress I’d seen. However, I’d certainly slept on way worse.
“I’ll take that.” I reached for the box, but Zeb batted my hand away. Entirely unused to my orders being ignored, I tried again and was again denied.
“Told you. I have a plan. My bed’s undoubtedly more comfortable, and I already put clean sheets on for you earlier. And I don’t want to keep you awake by checking my messages and work stuff in here.”
He’d planned. My chest pinched with an unfamiliar twinge. I couldn’t say anyone had changed bedding for me in recent memory. It would be rude of me to continue to fight Zeb when he was trying to be a decent host.
“At least let me help you set it up.”
“Okay.” He shrugged off his coat, putting it on a hook near the door, and I followed suit.
Kneeling on the thin rug near the computer desks, we worked together to unpack the air mattress. I’d set up enough of these that I didn’t need instructions, so I tossed that paper aside and helped Zeb unroll the mattress. Turning, he plugged in the built-in electric air pump.
The movement made his black pants stretch across his ass. Couldn’t say I was in the habit of noticing asses on anyone, but Zeb’s seemed unusually plump and…there. I looked away and waited for the mattress to start inflating.
And waited.
The pump hummed to life, a croaky sound that wasn’t particularly hopeful, but no matter how hard the pump whirred, the mattress didn’t budge.
“It’s not working.” Zeb frowned at the mattress like it had personally offended him.
“Flat as a pancake,” I agreed and reached for the instructions. “There must be some trick to it. Let me take a look.”
Holding the instructions, I bent closer to examine the pump. Huh. Somehow, Zeb smelled even more like cinnamon after the long shift at Seasons and a walk in the cold. But I had no business sniffing anyone. I had no idea why I kept…responding to Zeb, a weird thrum to my pulse and awareness of him. It had to be jet lag because this wasn’t like me at all.
I busied myself with examining the plastic box that housed the pump. I checked around the casing for obvious defects and verified the intake and outtake air valves were turned in the correct direction.
“Let’s try again.” Zeb flipped the power button. The pump started churning again, fan huffing, but a metallic smell filled the air and the mattress didn’t inflate even a millimeter.
Disaster. “It’s working too hard doing nothing.” I flipped the pump back off. “The last thing we need is the motor to burn out.”
“Yeah.” Zeb’s voice was faint and hopeless. “What do we do now?”
Crap. He needed me to have an answer. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone always looked to me to have the solution, and usually I did. And I wished I could get an easy win here, like earlier with the cranberries. Not that I was trying to impress Zeb, but it would be nice to see him less down, maybe see a hint of that freewheeling dancer from Gabe and Paige’s wedding.