Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
"Gideon?"
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I hadn't started the truck yet, so it was getting somewhat chilled in the cab. I glanced at Lex to make sure the coat he was wearing was thick enough for the elements and not that ridiculous long coat he'd worn on the first day. But of course, my gaze strayed to his face and I saw him looking at me. It was then that I realized I was still holding his hand. But when I went to release it, he held on.
"Yeah?” I murmured.
"Any chance Merv's sells cups of coffee?" Lex asked.
Something that had been really tight in my chest for the past week loosened considerably. I released his hand and reached for the key in the ignition. My truck rumbled to life and I found myself smiling when I realized how loud the damn thing really was.
"They do. But it tastes like shit and there's none of that fancy espresso stuff anywhere in Fisher Cove."
I chanced a glance at Lex and saw him smiling. "Then shitty coffee it is. I'm buying."
As I got the truck in gear and moving, I said, "So you're worth like a gazillion dollars and all you’re springing for is coffee? I don't even get a pastry or something?"
Lex laughed. "Pastries?" he asked. He looked my way and I swore I saw him wink. "If you want baked goods, you're going to have to put out, buddy."
On the surface, his line was absolutely ridiculous, especially with the added nickname of buddy. The problem was, Lex had no idea how intrigued I was by the idea of putting out. And I had a feeling I sure as shit would do it for a whole lot less than baked goods.
Chapter Eleven
Lex
Gideon had been worried about me and he wanted to be my friend.
I didn't even know how to process one of those things, let alone both.
Dwelling on either issue probably wasn't a good idea because the last thing I needed was to start having even stronger feelings for the man sitting next to me. Having realized I was gay at a pretty early age, I’d done what most gay men had at some point in their lives and found myself attracted on more than one occasion to straight men. Fortunately, I'd never actually gotten involved with one because there was no doubt how that kind of relationship would end.
With me nursing a broken heart.
Again.
As Gideon drove us into town, I couldn't help but wonder more about whatever event it was that had brought him back to a town that he clearly just wanted to disappear in. My gut was telling me it had something to do with his daughter's death, but I wasn't about to ask him about it. Even if we were friends, I doubted we were the kind of friends who told each other the heavy stuff. I figured, if anything, Gideon was mixing up the idea of friendship with the idea of obligation. He felt responsible for me because he’d found me that first day in such a vulnerable state. And even if he didn't want to admit it, there had to be at least a certain amount of pity in the whole thing. Hell, I'd pity someone like me. And the whole restocking the log pile and getting the generator going thing was just him doing his job.
Refusing to let the reality of my relationship with Gideon get me down, I focused on the little accomplishments I'd made in the past week. After Gideon had dropped me off, I’d explored the cabin in more detail and much more slowly. I'd found that things had changed from the first day when I'd arrived at the cabin. Gideon had mentioned that he'd moved items around, but that had been an understatement.
All the small knickknacks and furnishings that had probably been a nice touch decoration-wise but had been a nightmare for me to navigate around, had been removed. When I'd examined the countertop in the kitchen, I’d found only the bare necessities like the coffee maker and the microwave. The drawers had been cleaned out and organized in a way that I was able to easily feel out things like forks and knives. The other rooms had been transformed as well.
I’d spent the next several days just trying to acclimate to my surroundings. Getting from one room to another had been a painful process of feeling my way around and trying to remember certain things about each room that would help me figure out where I was at any given time. Like the living room having a large grandfather clock near the doorway. I hadn't yet made my way upstairs to try and figure out the second floor to the same degree, so I'd ended up sleeping on the couch each night. However, I had figured out how to get the fireplace working. Again, it had been a slow process, but I’d taken my time and instead of focusing on what I couldn't see, I’d focused on sounds and smells instead. I could still remember the little shout of victory I'd given when I’d started my first fire. I'd actually done a victory dance, but that was a secret I’d take to the grave with me.