Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Later, indeed.” Cressida adopted a knowing tone. “I take it a lot happened in the mountains.”
“You could say that.” I kept my own voice neutral. I didn’t want to be baited into an argument right before our meeting.
“I hope you know—”
“No lectures. Not now.” I glanced around the lobby area, trying to remind her we weren’t alone.
“Fine. I’ll simply say I hope you’re happy.”
“I am.” I couldn’t hold back my wide smile. Despite all my doubts and insecurities, I was happier than I’d ever been, and I didn’t want to lose sight of that, no matter what happened at the meeting.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Harley
“Tell me all about the farmers’ market,” Ambrose asked as soon as we were back in my truck. I’d collected him from his meeting, which had predictably gone long, and now the afternoon sun beat down on us as we exited the underground parking garage.
“I’m thinking your morning was way more exciting than ours.” I hadn’t wanted to bug him in front of his sister or others, but the truth was, I was dying to hear about how the meeting went. And not simply because I wanted to see the show succeed. I wanted Ambrose to succeed. I wanted to hear all the little details of the meeting, an urge I couldn’t say as I had with many friends. But with Ambrose, I could listen to him talk forever.
“Possibly.” He shrugged like meeting with the network heads happened on the regular. “But tell me about you and Hercules and your outing. Indulge me.”
“Always.” Like I could deny him a damn thing. If he wasn’t ready to talk about his meeting, I could wait him out. “We had fun. Found you some purple cauliflower, white asparagus, and some oddly shaped orange squash.”
“Excellent.” He beamed over at me, and his wide, boyish smile made my breath catch and almost made me miss the stoplight flipping to green.
“Hercules found the booth selling organic dog treats,” I said as I navigated out of downtown. “And we collected steaks from a place with free-range meats and eggs in coolers. Oh, and I got that.” I pointed at the bag down by his feet.
“A French press?” His forehead wrinkled as he pulled the box out.
“It’s…uh…for my place.” The odd urge I’d had the night before for Ambrose to be there with me had led me to a stall full of kitchen gadgets. “I’ve got an ancient drip pot from way back in my barracks days. Figured it was time for an upgrade. You know. For if you and the beast ever want to visit.”
“We want.” Ambrose smiled and certainly looked and sounded pleased, but there was a wistfulness there that wasn’t usually.
“You gonna tell me why you sound so sad, or you gonna make me wait till after I feed you?” I asked as we approached his place. “I figured we could both use a late lunch. No sense in saving the steaks for dinner if we’re hungry now.”
“The Admiral of Delayed Gratification doesn’t want to wait?” He laughed, but that weary sadness was still there, a note I didn’t care for. I wished I had a better plan than steak for cheering him up, but short of blowing him in his garage, it was the best I had at the moment.
“Nah. I want you fed more.” I parked and pointed at the house. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll figure out your grill.”
“Yes. Perhaps a shower will help me get my head on straight.”
“I dunno, boss. It looks pretty good to me.” Exiting the car, I pulled him close for a kiss. A soft one to see where he was at. If he needed sex as a distraction, I’d happily go there, but he kept it featherlight and sweet and all too short.
“Shower.” I gestured at the side door. He didn’t request company, so I busied myself, figuring out his grill that undoubtedly cost more than my rent and had the capacity to cook for a dozen hungry sailors. Seemed like major overkill for the two of us. I kind of missed my old faithful grill at the cabin, but I made do. I found a nonstick grill basket for the vegetables, and the pantry yielded some promising spices.
By the time Ambrose emerged in shorts and a polo shirt, I had two plates of food almost ready. The top was typical preppy Ambrose, but the fact he wasn’t wearing a towel or swim trunks made him feel distant, more out of reach than he’d been the last week.
And I wasn’t sure whether the shower had worked because he still seemed unusually somber as we set his patio table. He fetched a Bordeaux that he said would be divine with the steak. I, personally, wouldn’t have minded a decent beer, but I could appreciate the way the silky and earthy red wine complimented the rich, beefy meat with its complex, grass-fed flavor.