Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“For fuck’s sake, Terry. Those are limits and rules for a BDSM relationship. Not a reno contract.” I must’ve looked skeptical because he groaned and rubbed his face. “God. You make me crazy. Those are BDSM negotiations. A regular contractor would just make you pay more for being a pain in the ass. I bet you even say red if you have to stop something.”
Thankfully I could tell him no.
“Of course not. Everyone knows that’s the BDSM word.” I’d even gotten behind a dirty old lady in the grocery store the other day who been giggling into her phone and telling some kind of naughty story about a book she’d read. “I say stencil because frowning guy hates them and won’t do them in any projects because he’s not a bored little old lady with a fucking passion for goddamned flowers.”
I was pretty sure he had a traumatic story that would explain his strong emotions on the subject, but I didn’t want to trigger him, so I hadn’t asked for details.
No matter what Leander said, I did have some common sense.
“Safewords can be anything.” He said it so seriously I almost believed him. “That’s still a safeword.”
He just had to be right, so I shrugged. “We’re not going to worry about that.”
“I’m right, asshole.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he nearly pouted. “I’m right. It’s a safeword.”
“I understand that to you it’s a safeword.” Arguing with crazy people was never productive in the long run. “Thank you for letting me know your thoughts on the subject.”
It worked on the preacher guy who liked to lecture people outside the farmer’s market, but Leander rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re an asshole.”
And he was dramatic.
“If we could stay on the subject, please?” I needed to be helped and fed, not lectured about ridiculous things. “I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do or which one wants to do things with me.”
We had to narrow that down before I accidentally hurt someone’s feelings.
If I was going to be an asshole, I wanted it to be deliberate, and making my little giggler upset would be terrible.
Now, frowning guy…he made me wonder if I could get him to frown harder and tell me I’d been naughty.
I wasn’t sure how practical that fantasy was, though.
“Did the note give you any clues?” Leander stopped huffing and sighing and sat back in the booth, actually using his brain instead of his drama. “Any cute pictures or doodles on it? Any clues in the card itself? What about things the bear was wearing?”
How had it taken this long for him to finally be helpful?
“Those are very good questions, thank you.” And he rolled his eyes again. Some people just liked being ridiculous. “No pictures that he would’ve made. It was a standard, fairly blank card. You know, that’s kind of telling, though.”
“Why?” Reaching out, Leander took a sip of his beer. “Is one of them artistic?”
“The younger one. He’d definitely have made little pictures on it or done something like that.” At the very least he’d have put a smiley face on it.
He liked emojis and it was impossible to forget their conversation on that.
Some people were just too serious when it came to texting.
“Okay, so one down. What else?” Frowning, Leander looked a bit like he was a cranky detective in an old whodunit show. “There have to be other clues.”
He needed to watch more of the good kind of reality TV.
“Now that I think about it, Short Guy would be a bit more obvious if it was him. He’s got no poker face.” He’d thought the situation was funny, but he hadn’t looked guilty or overly turned on about the situation. “The body pillow comment got more of a reaction than my Build-A-Bear.”
Nodding slowly, Leander took my answer seriously. “Okay, that’s not as strong as the artistic information but we’ll move him lower down the list.”
I could see his logic, so I didn’t try to convince him he was wrong.
“Do you think a Daddy would be tall or frowning?” I wasn’t sure. “The only ones I’ve met have been either online or annoying, so I don’t have much to compare my Secret Santa to.”
Leander’s brain seemed to stop working because he stared at me with a confused, blank face for so long I reached over and waved my hand in front of him to restart his brain.
It worked.
Swatting at my hand, he sat straighter. “Stop that.”
No.
“Why are you being ridiculous?” Again.
He sighed, shaking his head and looking back up at the ceiling. “Really? This is the person you said should be my best friend?”
Had God told him to push me into the mud that day?
That was rude and it was no wonder I wasn’t more religiously inclined.
“Okay. I can do this.” Seemingly talking to himself that time, Leander took a deep breath and centered himself. “Why do you think your Secret Santa is a Daddy?”