Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
A long sigh. “So that’s the conversation we supposedly had yesterday.”
Carl smiled sheepishly, and then prodded Grayson’s arm. “I have a question.” Grayson motioned for him to go ahead, and Carl scooched closer, breathing in a whiff of oaky aftershave. “I drank a bit the other night. What did I do to trigger that conversation, exactly?”
“You sat alone in the corner of the pub moaning over your phone.”
Carl . . . vaguely recalled scrolling through a Remember This Day photo collection of him and Pete.
“Then you told the couple at the neighbouring table to make sure they weren’t mistaking their relationship. That it might just be friendship.”
Carl winced. There was a partial memory of a young couple . . .
“You said they should figure it out right away and not be blindsided years later when the other person meets the ‘true love of their life’.”
Carl smacked a hand to his forehead. The words were true, but the fact he’d said them . . .
“And then—”
“There’s more?”
Grayson smirked. “Something about getting accomplished. Being desirable and having journalistic integrity. It got a bit bizarre at that point—the beauty of boulevards and three-lane highways? And then—”
“Oh God.”
“—you said you’d ‘walk it off’.”
“I do remember walking.”
“Mm. I was afraid you might head up the hills again, so I followed.”
“Ah. Right.” Carl paused and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Did you weed-wack next door on purpose?”
“When I helped you home, I noticed the neighbour’s yard was due a trim.”
“Sure.”
Grayson winked, and Carl was hit with a thought that had him grabbing Grayson by his grey collar and gaping at his handsome face, suddenly only an inch away. “You helped me home?”
“You couldn’t find your keys.” Grayson pried Carl’s fingers off him. “They were in your pocket.”
“You reached into my pocket?”
“You really wanted me to.”
“Outrageous.”
“My thoughts exactly. I used a gardening fork.”
“I . . . I . . . honestly don’t know what to say to that.”
“You’re welcome.”
Carl laughed and buried his face in his hands. When he looked at Grayson again, he’d reined in most of his fickle feelings and spoke seriously. “Thank you. For helping me home. For having that conversation with me. For today, too.” He nodded. “Under it all, you’re a big heart.”
Grayson frowned, and all traces of vanity vanished. There was something raw and tender in the way he stared at the piano keys and shook his head.
“Why do you keep dismissing it when I say that?” He’d done the same thing coming down the hill that first night, too.
A sigh and tired pause followed, and Carl’s instinctive urge was to pat his shoulder. The instant his hand touched down, Grayson stiffened and rolled the slouch out of his shoulders with a hollow laugh. “A big heart would let you get away with these lies.” He leapt to his feet and grabbed his bag, flinging a misty gaze Carl’s way, masking it with another laugh.
On the one hand, Carl felt there was something deeper at play here. Something to probe beneath the reaction. On the other hand, he had to protect himself. “What do you mean you won’t let me get away with it?”
Grayson walked out of the living room. “I plan to extort you.”
Carl learned the next morning exactly how he’d be extorted. It wasn’t for money.
He sadly tucked his wallet into his back pocket and followed Grayson into Over The Raindough’s kitchen.
Grayson shook out a floor-dusted tin-foil-like apron, came behind Carl, and slipped it over his head. “Arms up.”
“Can’t believe you’d rather have me glaze your cupcakes.”
“I would rather.” Grayson tied a bow behind Carl’s back, murmuring cheekily in his ear. “And there’s a whole lot more you’ll have to swallow.”
“Aren’t you a master at doing these jobs yourself?”
“Always better with a helping hand.”
“Fine.” Carl picked up an icing pouch thingy. “Show me how.”
“Don’t squeeze so hard.”
“I didn’t think it’d shoot out so fast.”
“Try again. Gently. Until the tip glistens. Now start glazing. The cupcakes!”
“Your hand was in the way. Just lick it off.”
“You missed the cupcake again.”
“I want a taste too.”
“Let go. I’ll do it. What’s that look for? You didn’t want to do this to start with.”
“I changed my mind. I also really fancy biting into that cupcake.”
“Leave my cupcakes alone. Out.”
Carl rounded to the other side of the counter and plunked himself on a high stool. “Sure I can’t pay you to keep quiet?”
Grayson laughed from deep behind some ovens, making it sound somewhat maniacal. “You’re my PA for a week, Carl Birch. I’ll make sure you’re too busy to pretend to play piano.”
“About that . . .”
Grayson emerged from behind kitchenware and resumed glazing his cupcakes with a quick look Carl’s way.
“I have to be a professional pianist again tomorrow. Last time, and that’s it.”
Grayson stopped glazing and stared at him.
“This time it’s important,” Carl explained. “It’s for Leo’s school assembly.”