Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“I’m glad their lunch date went well yesterday, though,” I said. I’d seen Macklin’s photo update online. He and Lane had gone to a tapas place in Penn Quarter, and Lane had looked much happier.
“I was relieved, to be honest,” Walker admitted. “I was a little concerned Lane was going to make a run for it.”
Valid concern. Had Lane and I not hashed out the lie between us, it was highly possible Lane would’ve done something he’d regret.
“There’s definitely a runner in him,” I agreed. In the living room, I returned Tank to his terrarium with an extra piece of lettuce. “All right, I’mma set the table before Lane gets here. And I followed your advice on the journal thing. I wrote that down. I’m all about the intel.”
He chuckled. “I figured you’d appreciate that. You enjoy your evenin’.”
“You too, hon. Talk soon.” I ended the call and went back to work. The evening was gonna be all about comfort, so I’d opted for sweats and a tee after I’d showered earlier. I’d texted Lane too, to let him know he could dress down.
Since I’d only seen Lane once after the vacation, I’d had to rely on Macklin and Walker for some details, and I’d learned my future partner didn’t walk around in cargo shorts and tees in DC. The boy was prim and proper, as it turned out. Chinos, fitted shirts, and trendy blazers.
He had to have some flaws too.
All right, let’s see… I stopped at the coffee table in the living room and went through my mental to-do list. Ice cream was in the freezer, soup on the stove, fresh bread on the counter; I’d placed two notebooks on the coffee table, along with glasses and ice water—I should find a couple pens too.
I returned to the kitchen and brought out bowls and spoons. What else had Lane mentioned? We’d only discussed aftercare briefly in Florida, and sort of as a theory in general, but I recalled ice cream, comfort, “just chilling out,” and “maybe watching a movie.”
I had a fire blazing in the living room, so that should cover a fair bit of the comfort. Plus, my ma’s chunky tomato soup with vegetables and chicken.
Napkins—
Terra started barking, and just a second later, I heard a couple knocks on the door.
“You’re gettin’ better, sugar.” Before, she’d bark whenever someone passed by the door, and when you lived in an old house where your front porch was the sidewalk of a busy area in Old Town Alexandria, that was a lot of barking.
I followed her out into the hallway and opened the door, and there stood Lane. Little Mr. Prim and Proper. Hot damn, this was not the kid I’d met in Mallow Vista. Or the other night, for that matter. Lane looked like he could work for Walker. Not with the actual suits, but the way younger up-and-comers dressed. Nice chinos, fancy brand scarf, and a jacket that’d never left the city.
“Is this you dressin’ for comfort?” I asked with a smirk.
“I’m comfortable in this,” he replied, then held up a small paper bag. “Where I’m from, you’re not supposed to arrive empty-handed, so I brought snacks for Terra and Tank.”
Not their daddy?
“That’s sweet of you,” I chuckled. “Come on in.” I accepted the bag and peered inside. A nice, tasty marrow bone for Terra, and a mix of green beans and broccoli for Tank. Solid.
“Hi, sweetheart. Yeah, I see you. I missed you too. Let’s hug it out.” Safe to say, Lane greeted Terra a lot warmer and went down to her level for cuddles and kisses. “I can’t believe this is where you live. I pass your house every time my community has an event.”
Huh. I’d forgotten about that. He was part of another kink community too.
“All right, I’m ready to be your test subject.” Lane rose again and removed his shoes and jacket.
Fuck if he didn’t wear those fancy threads well, though. And I supposed the fitted pullover looked comfortable enough.
We started in the kitchen, and I removed my earbuds that I tended to forget. Lane glanced around himself as I filled two bowls of soup and topped them off with aged cheddar crumbs.
“You have a beautiful home. I know we’re all supposed to think Georgetown is better, but Old Town wins in my book.”
“Same here.” I grinned faintly to myself, in full agreement. Old Town suited me perfectly.
“Do you get a lot of tourists looking through the windows?” he asked.
I chuckled. “I sure did before I put up those protective films.” I’d lived here less than a week before I’d sipped my morning coffee by the sink, just looking out the window, when a group of tourists had stopped by and stared into my kitchen. Right there, where I’d stood. No fucking shame. So Marina and I had headed out to buy semi-frosted adhesive panels to put on the windows—or the bottom part—in the kitchen and the tiny one in the hallway.