Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Wow.”
“It’s not like Mom needs them. She’s a great cook. Now me, on the other hand, without my grandmother’s recipes I can only make three things competently—eggs, pasta and barbecue.”
“That’s better than me. I burn water.”
“That’s probably why you’re in such great shape.” Connelly let his gaze heat as it roamed over Azariah’s bare chest and was happy to note the flush rising to his cheeks.
“Sure. It’s called the starvation diet. You don’t want to try it, trust me.”
“I guess that means I’ll have to cook for you. You can warm up leftovers at least, right?”
Azariah’s eyes shined. “Really? You’d cook for me?”
The question and the surprise in it reminded him how few people Azariah had in his corner. To distract himself he cut a piece of pancake with his fork. “I’ll make my special chili for you this week. You’ve got to taste it. I mean, as long as you don’t mind eating fire.”
“I add hot sauce to everything.”
Connelly smiled and met Azariah’s twinkling eyes. Even though his hair was a mess and he was rumpled from sleep, Connelly couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone quite as fascinating. It was in the shape of his face, the deepness of those dark eyes and the fullness of his lips. Each thing on its own might have looked odd and out of place on anyone else. Put together, they created a work of fucking art.
“You’re beautiful. I’m not sure I’ve told you that yet, but I’ve thought about it a million times since you ran into me that day outside the diner.”
Azariah’s lips twisted. “Keep that shit to yourself, Hot Fudge. I don’t want pretty words.”
Just as he’d thought, morning brought the fierce fighter back out, complete with biting wit and a barricade around his heart thirty feet thick. Too bad, Connelly was sick of playing it safe. He was ready to scale that wall and bring it crumbling down, even if it meant the end to everything he’d worked his whole life for.
* * *
“I meant to ask you earlier...” Connelly trailed off as they slowed down enough to search for a parking spot near Azariah’s building later that morning.
Azariah didn’t look at him. He was having a hard time keeping it together in the light of day with the judge’s verdict still hanging over his head. Apparently, being illegally evicted wasn’t a good defense for acting like a complete asshole to an eighty-year-old woman in the middle of the night. He’d been issued a $400 fine for disturbing the peace.
On the positive side, his ankle wasn’t hurting too badly now that he’d had proper rest and decent food to fill his stomach. His heart was another matter. It was still smarting from the vulnerability he’d allowed last night. Like a seldom-used muscle, it ached. Mostly because Connelly’s words had struck a chord, though he’d never admit it. He’d been touched more deeply by those pretty words than he had a right to be.
He didn’t deserve pretty. And if Connelly knew the truth, he’d most certainly agree.
So it was better if they chalked last night up to one last fling and shut the door on their...whatever it had been. Soon he’d be homeless, surfing couches just to avoid the shelters. If his friends would even have him. He’d been a bitch lately and wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want him around.
“The other day when Raoul and I were at the club we ran into Keller. Do you know him?”
“Yeah, he’s kind of new. I don’t know him well but I think Lirim was fucking him on the down-low.”
“Do you know his full name?”
“I guess I could ask, why?”
“Just curious. Lirim is a member of your dance group?”
“Yeah, Lirim Savage. The willowy one. Remember?”
Connelly cleared his throat. “No, sorry. I only saw you.”
And Z’s heart floated up out of the darkness like it was tied to a billion balloons.
Connelly finally found a parking spot. Before the car was put into park, Z flung the door open and scrambled out, catching himself at the last minute so he didn’t fall. He couldn’t sink into the softness Connelly made him feel. He needed to stay hard, keep his defenses. Keep his edge. Keep his control.
It was the only thing that kept the bitterness from eating him alive.
“Hey, Speed Racer. Wait for me.” Connelly came around the car and grabbed his elbow. “You don’t want to fall on that gorgeous face of yours.”
“Thanks.” But he didn’t mean it. He needed to get away from Hot Fudge quick. After last night, sleeping in his arms, waking up to a nice breakfast and conversation, he felt like he was sailing farther and farther out to sea and there was no one around to pull him back to shore.
“So, um, what makes you think this Lirim guy was screwing Keller?”