Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Michaels frowned. “Suffer. What do you mean?”
“I usually don’t eat late. Especially a big meal. It sits on my stomach like lead and I feel so sluggish in the morning.” Judge shrugged. “Side-effect of being old.”
Michaels scoffed. “You’re not old, Judge. What are you… thirty-five, thirty-seven?”
Judge looked at him for a while, his jaws working as he ate the juicy meat. Michaels began to think he’d insulted him until Judge smiled and shook his head no.
“I’m a little older than that. You see the gray.” Judge used his fork to point at his hair.
“What’s that have to do with anything? My dad’s been gray since he was twenty-seven. My mom always said she loved that about him.” Michaels’ laughed. “Premature graying runs in our family. I’ll start to get a lot more soon. The dirty blond makes it difficult to see sometimes, but I’ve got a few myself, and I’m thirty-two.” Michaels looked at Judge like he wanted to devour him instead of his food. “I find gray extremely sexy on a man.”
Judge returned the look before reaching down boldly and adjusting himself through the thin cotton covering his groin, then he continued eating in nothing but that fuckin’ towel! Michaels tried to keeps his eyes on the television that was playing… he had no idea what instead of on Judge’s thick pecs. After only a couple minutes he was back to staring hypnotically.
Judge’s deep voice abruptly broke him out of his trance. “It’s good.”
“Huh? What? Oh. Yeah. Great. Good. Thanks.” Michaels babbled crazily. What the fuck? He was a mess. A horny, scattered, crazy mess. Was Judge doing that on purpose? He looked cool as a cucumber.
Judge looked at him curiously before he continued. “What’s Book got over there?”
Michaels hoped he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. “An uh. A Milk-Bone. Is that alright? I thought he deserved a treat after his hard day, too.”
Judge was just staring at him quizzically as he silently dug back into his food. Damn. He hoped he hadn’t fucked that up. He was still kicking himself when Judge spoke up again. “The food is really good. Way better than some greasy burger or whatever. Who taught you how to cook?”
Michaels looked down at his half-eaten steak. It was cooked perfectly, so was the steamed broccoli with cheese and the mashed potatoes—although they were instant—they came out pretty good after he spruced them up. The pots and pans that were provided wasn’t as nice as his, but they didn’t burn the food. He wished he could really cook for Judge. He’d make him a meal fit for a king.
“My mom taught me some of the basics, ya know. I’ve lived alone since I was nineteen, couldn’t eat Denny’s every day.” Michaels smiled and Judge smiled back. “But having been to so many get-togethers, barbeques, game nights, poker nights at God and Day’s, I sort of hung out with Day in the kitchen and I’ve picked up on quite a bit. Day loves to show off too, some of the recipes I don’t think I’ll ever get right. But it’s fun trying. Besides, while all the other guys were hugged up with their partners, I had to entertain myself somehow.” Michaels shrugged like it didn’t matter much. But honestly, he didn’t want Judge to see his hurt. To see that he longed for his own partner too. Someone that complimented him perfectly.
God’s name was incomplete unless you added the “and Day” behind it. Green and Ruxs were practically combined identities. And he didn’t even want to get started on Syn and Furi, jeez. Anytime those two were together, the temperature in the room was like the Sahara Desert.
Michaels and Judge… hmmmm… Austin and Judge… Judge and Austin.
Well damn. Next thing Michaels knew he’d be doodling on the jacket of his romance novel, “Austin loves Judge” inside a heart with an arrow drawn through it.
“Day can cook, huh?” Judge said, shoving another heaping forkful of potatoes in his mouth.
Michaels pffted. “Can he? The guy should have a damn cooking show. Did you know he’s actually best friends with Prescott Vaughan, the master chef? It’s crazy. He and Day dated in college and he taught him how to cook.”
“I bet. I’m sure he and Day cooked real good together.” Judge winked again.
“Man.” Michaels warned, “You better not say that in front of God, he’ll go batshit.”
Judge and Michaels laughed as he continued to tell Judge some of the crazy stories about his old-time friend, and Michaels couldn’t believe some of the wild shit God did when he was an enlisted man. Judge was laughing so hard he was wiping the corners of his eyes with his napkin. He looked carefree and handsome when he was genuinely enjoying himself. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of those onyx-colored eyes that seemed to brighten and shimmer. When both of them were finished, Michaels stood and picked up his plate, reaching for Judge’s empty one, too. His wrist was grabbed before he could walk away with them.