Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
And apparently that included dinner, something he had neglected in his rush to get to Linc’s after work. Somehow, emerging from the bathroom to find Linc cooking was almost unbearably domestic, a level of intimacy they’d never had and probably wouldn’t ever again. Linc hummed as meat sizzled in a skillet, giving him a nod as he came into the kitchen.
“Steak okay? I got half a steer on the cheap after I helped a buddy with some brush hauling. You want to pick some greens so we can have salad?” Linc gestured at a line of plants in the dining area, little seedlings in neat rows on the table and more mature plants in planters in front of the window.
“Wow. Talk about farm-to-table service.” Grabbing an empty bowl from Linc, he headed to the plants. Luckily for him, neat white labels identified what each was, same cramped handwriting Linc used on equipment labels at work. “It looks great in here. Nice job with the cabinets and stuff.”
“Thanks. It turned out okay.” Once upon a time, this had been a dark tiny house forever trapped in the seventies with cramped rooms that stank of cigarettes and wet dog. Jacob had hated it the few times he’d had reason to be there, dropping off Wyatt or some food from his mother or whatnot. Helping Linc clean it out after his dad died had been immensely satisfying work. Sometime in the past few years, Linc had finished transforming the place, knocked down a few walls to open up the kitchen, living and dining areas, installed better lighting, and used light wood details to make the small space feel bigger. Nothing was high-end, but the overall effect was super welcoming and homey.
“Hey, you have the same bar stools as Mom.” Maybe that was why it felt so good here—there were a fair number of similarities to his mother’s much larger, more gourmet kitchen.
“Guess I spent enough time over at her place that it crept into my design choices.” Linc’s neck flushed like Jacob had called him out for doing something shady.
“I didn’t mean it was bad. It’s sweet.” And it underscored just how important his family was to Linc, how deep the bonds went, promises Linc wouldn’t ever break no matter how much he might want Jacob. “Although Mom always gets her vegetables at the store. Doubt you could pay her to take up gardening as a hobby.”
“It’s practical. That’s all. Nearly free food is a win even when it’s work.” Linc accepted the bowl Jacob had filled with baby salad greens from one of the planters. “And no store-bought tomato can compete with mine in August.”
“I bet.” Jacob’s throat grew tight with the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be invited back to taste the summer harvest.
Linc divided the greens between two plates, then plated sliced steaks on top, as effortlessly as a line cook at some upscale restaurant, drizzling the salads with some sort of homemade olive-oil based concoction. “Is it okay if we eat at the counter? I don’t want to move all the seedlings from the table.”
“Sure. Let’s not disturb your babies.” He laughed as the dogs followed them to the bar stools at the breakfast bar. “And you poor guys. Doesn’t anyone around here feed you?”
“Ha. Twice a day like clockwork. Don’t let them fool you into handing out scraps.” Linc leaned down to pat the bigger of the two dogs on the head. Both mutts, one had a shaggy brown coat, some sort of overgrown shepherd mix, while the other had short speckled black fur like a lab and a dalmatian found a hound lurking in the family tree.
“Damn. I miss our dogs growing up. We had some great ones.”
“Yeah. I remember that big chocolate lab you guys had for years. Sparky, right? And I’d say you could borrow these mutts whenever you want but...” Looking sheepish, he trailed off with a shrug. Jacob got it. There weren’t likely to be many opportunities after tonight, no more chances to play with the dogs or their stubborn owner either.
“Maybe I’ll move out of the trailer soon, get a place big enough for a pet.” He currently occupied Wyatt’s old Airstream trailer at an RV park near town with cheap space rent and decent utility hookups.
“Eh. Get yourself a hamster or something.” Linc’s teasing didn’t feel forced, felt more like they were settling into something they did all the time, talking and eating. “Making arrangements for the dogs at the height of the fire season is complicated. And last I heard, apartments were stupid expensive.”
“Good point.” The cramped quarters weren’t perfect by any means, but it beat living at home with zero privacy or trying to figure out pricier rentals. With everyone wanting to make money off the tourist traffic, locals could easily find themselves priced out of housing. “It would probably be a better idea to convince Mom and May to take on a dog for the kids.”