Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Ros grinned and whistled at his dog, turning to the van. “Well, today, you can have as much as you want.”
Not really, but Ezra wouldn’t argue when there was real food on the line. So maybe it was on the fattier side, and the baguettes were carb-bombs, but they’d be likely healthier than the processed junk he’d been eating since arriving here.
“Cheese is cheese. Just feels wasteful,” Frank grumbled as if he hadn’t brought Ezra a Rolex less than a week ago. The same Rolex that still sat on Ezra’s left wrist, reminding him that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t starve.
“Quality food is never a waste,” Ezra told Frank, meeting his gaze. “And Gruyère offers a completely different experience than Brie, or Port Salut, or Gouda, to name a few. There’s a reason people came up with so many varieties.”
Frank raised his hands in defeat and grabbed his T-shirt off the fence. “As long as you guys don’t mind I’m sweaty after training. Oh, and Ros?” Ros turned back, already opening the door to his van. “Ezra can’t really access his clothes right now. Can you lend him some of yours? You seem to be of similar size.”
It was… actually pretty sweet of him to inquire, even if Ezra had way more muscle on him than Ros. Still, Shane’s partner was just a bit shorter than him, so maybe some of his more oversized clothes would fit? Joggers or a T-shirt that hadn’t been given away as free merchandise?
A smile stretched Ezra’s lips as he looked at Ros, and relief filled his heart when the guy nodded.
Maybe life was taking a turn for the better?
Chapter 11
Frank
Ezra was beautiful like a prince made of ice. His skin might not be pale, but its olive coloring was cool, and the dark brown hair fell onto his nape as if it were light as snow. Only his eyes shone like two candles, torturing Frank with their judgment.
Nothing Frank did was good enough. His food was subpar. His home—a ruin. And yet, despite all the snide comments Frank couldn’t help but desire Ezra so fervently he didn’t feel at ease spending too much time in the same room. He couldn’t let himself accept the offer Ezra had extended to him that first night, not when it meant using Ezra’s terrible situation against him, and especially not after he'd learned how far below him everything in Frank’s life was.
It was obvious Ezra hated being here and despite trying to hide it, every now and then his distaste showed in one way or another. Hiding him here was like stabling an award-winning Arabian stallion in a dirty old pigsty with holes in the roof, but what was Frank to do when that was all he had to offer?
He’d worried the prolonged stay at the junkyard would transform Ezra’s distaste into loathing, but when the careful smile frozen on the handsome features melted at the sight of puppies, Frank’s chest filled with warmth too. He’d seen the smile Ezra had for them before—during their trip at the lake and on the rare occasions Ezra truly relaxed around him—so seeing it now felt like a glimmer of hope for a future where the two of them learned to coexist in peace.
“I’m being ripped apart!” Ezra shrieked, rolling to the floor as the litter of Rottweilers climbed all over him while their parents watched with the remaining three dogs.
For once he didn’t care about his shirt getting wrinkled or his pants becoming a new home for dog hair. Frank never wanted a puppy more than right now. Maybe then he’d see more of those lovely smiles around his home.
At least for as long as Ezra stayed, which was only as long as was absolutely necessary.
And as much as Frank’s frugal nature fought against it, he had to admit that the rotisserie chicken was fresh and juicy, unlike the ones he bought frozen in bulk, and Gruyere cheese did add another dimension to the taste of mushrooms. Just like the meals Ezra used to make for him at his apartment, the dishes Shane and Ros offered them was delicious, nourishing, and prepared with care. Maybe it really was time to change something about the food Frank was eating? Because of course this was better than the ready-made stew, but he was usually far too busy to cook or arrange groceries on a regular basis. But if the current situation made Ezra so unhappy, then Frank had to do something about it, even if the boy wasn’t to become a permanent fixture in his life.
Ros sat on the carpet next to Ezra, dangling a plushie above one of the puppies. “Oh, they’re little monsters. I’m not getting any work done lately.”
“I can help,” Ezra said right away, flicking the ear of a puppy triumphantly standing on his stomach.