Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
A nearby box held a stack of old dish towels, and I stretched to grab one, dabbing the mess on Denver’s stomach and cleaning both of our hands.
Back to myself, uncertainty rushed in as Denver took the towel from me and finished cleaning up. I supposed playtime was over, and I moved to climb off Denver’s lap, but he held me tightly.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His curly hair had escaped his ponytail at some point, and the long strands fluttered around his face. He looked as spent as I felt but far more content.
“I figured…”
“You figured you’d stay right here until I can feel my legs again,” he said sternly. The order relaxed me, made me slump against him and simply breathe for long moments as he rubbed my back. Neither of us spoke. I wanted to ask him what the hell we were doing because I was pretty sure we’d left hooking up in the dust, but I didn’t want to ruin this quiet perfection.
“What else needs doing tonight?” Eventually, when I was almost but not quite asleep, Denver’s voice rumbled me back awake. “Did you have a goal?”
“We’re talking cleaning?” Mouth and brain fuzzy, I stretched.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t come over only to fuck around.” He patted me like I should have known. “Doubt either of us is tired enough for sleep yet. Not gonna leave you to work when I could help.”
I smiled slowly, trying not to look too surprised. “I’d like that.”
I liked Denver too, probably more than I should, but right then, I refused to worry about anything other than making this happen again as often as possible.
Chapter Fifteen
Sean
As I snuck down Eric’s back stairs on a warm April Saturday morning, the sun was barely poking out of the grayish-blue dawn. I felt almost like one of the teens. Not only was I carrying my shoes to make less noise, but I’d been giddy for over two weeks now, the secret of carrying on with Denver not unlike a teen crush. Not that I’d ever tell Denver I was crushing on him, but I was up early yet again, hoping to catch him at the end of his shift, sneak in a little time at his place before—
“You’re up early.”
I nearly missed the last stair and narrowly avoided crashing into Eric standing at the counter, adding grounds and water to the coffee maker. Shit. Play it cool. Play it cool. I pasted on a casual smile.
“So are you.”
“Eh. I’m trying. Day off, so I figured if I was up early enough, I might be able to prevent more cooking experiments from Wren.”
“What Wren needs is lessons.” I’d been waiting for the chance to bring up this subject with Eric. “I’ve been thinking. The kids are all old enough to help with meal planning and prep, but they need supervision and instruction. What if we made a rotating chart for meal duty?”
“That’s not a bad idea. I do like a good chart.” Eric rubbed his bristly chin. He didn’t wear a beard, but like me, he sometimes skipped shaving on his days off. “I used to have the household on a really tight schedule. Chores. Meals. School. It’s been hard finding our footing again.”
“I know.” I waited until Eric hit the On button for the coffee maker to pat his shoulder. “And you need to let all of us help. Jonas is good at baking. I’m okay at breakfast food and firehouse meal basics like chili and spaghetti. And Denver offered to teach—”
“The short-order cook across the street?” Eyes brightening, Eric seemed far too interested in who Denver was. Danger. Danger.
“Yeah. He…uh…came by the day of the explosion.”
“Which one?” Eric groaned and shook his head before chuckling. “And I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about him.”
“What do you mean?” My voice was far higher pitched than necessary, and I had to brace a hand on the counter.
“You’ve sure been eating a lot of Honey’s hotcakes despite the house here having four boxes of pancake mix, five dozen eggs at any given moment, and at least three pounds of bacon.”
“Um. Yeah.” I cast a guilty glance out the back window to where my truck was parked. Change of plans. “Guess I keep forgetting. Sorry. Bad post-divorce habit of eating out. How about I help you put some of that bacon to use? Do up a big breakfast for the kids?”
“Sean, go get your breakfast out. This is my morning to do the dad thing, maybe get a run in with John, watch Rowan rehearse for the play, listen to Wren’s plans for world domination.” Eric’s tone was all-too-patient. “You’ll tell me about the short-order cook when you’re ready.”
“I…uh…” If there was anyone who would likely understand, it would be Eric, my oldest friend. Heck, he’d encouraged me to have a casual fling. Denver’s gender might be a shock. Or not. Perhaps Eric had guessed years ago when we’d lived together the first time and I still hadn’t known myself. Maybe that was why I paused. Eric wouldn’t judge me, but he might say something I wasn’t ready to hear. Also, this thing with Denver felt too new, too precious, too fragile to hold up to the light. We hadn’t agreed to secrecy, but my chest went tight at the thought of telling Eric, only to have the fling with Denver evaporate.