Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“Ew, I’m not a puker. I’m more of a clammy-handed, heart-palpitating panicker,” he assured me.
“Good to know.”
Theo grinned. “So…tell me about yourself. Please.”
The irony of me, the stalwart unfriendly traveler, falling prey to a personal interrogation was almost comical. But what difference did it make if I shared some basic tidbits of my life? I didn’t have any major secrets and once we landed in London, I’d never see him again.
And if I were being completely honest, now that we’d started conversing, the thin line between intimacy and anonymity was seductive here. We were huddled side by side in a dimly lit plane, surrounded by sleeping passengers, but it felt vaguely akin to meeting someone in a pub. Complete with an unspoken sexy vibe.
No, no. I wasn’t a creep, and my low-grade attraction to him wasn’t enough to act on in our current situation. However, if circumstances were different, I’d make a move on Theo in a heartbeat. He was so perfectly my type, it wasn’t even funny.
I’d always had a thing for petite women and pint-sized twinks. And nope, I didn’t discriminate, folks. But I wasn’t in the habit of prowling for hookups in midair. I also wasn’t a hundred percent sure Theo was queer. Or single.
Whatever. I was too old for him…and unless he was into big dudes with thick beards, I might not be his type. I mean, looks-wise, we were polar opposites. Theo was small and thin, and I was a big guy—six foot three and built like a linebacker. Or a rugby player who didn’t shy away from carbs.
Again, none of that mattered. This was one of those short-term acquaintanceships life threw at you once in a while. I probably wouldn’t remember his name next week.
So…why not tell him about the life and times of Scott O’Brien?
“Me? All right. I’m thirty-nine, originally from Seattle. My parents were high school sweethearts and have been married for forty-four years. I have one sister, Heather, and one amazing ten-year-old nephew, Emmett. I also have more cousins than the average Joe. Twenty-five and counting, and we’re all pretty close. As for London…I moved for a job seven years ago and stayed. I have a great group of friends there, a growing business, and…I like it.”
Theo inclined his head and shifted in his seat. “That’s nice. I live in San Francisco and I like it fine, but the cost of living is outlandish. Every time I turn around, one of my friends is moving away, so to be perfectly honest, it feels lonely. But I can’t really go anywhere since I just took this new job. I don’t know where I’d go, anyway.”
“Are you from the Bay Area originally?” I asked.
He nodded. “Napa Valley.”
“Wine country.”
“Yep. My dad’s a vintner. He worked for Conrad Winery for years before he decided to buy some land in Washington state and go out on his own. According to him, Belden-Bach Winery will put merlot back on the map.”
Color me interested.
“Wow. I think I bought a bottle of your dad’s pinot last week.”
He beamed. “You chose wisely. I’m not much of a merlot guy myself, but I do love a good pinot.”
For a while, we had a lot to discuss. We chatted about grape varietals, harvesting, and sommeliers, which somehow led to the restaurant business. We discussed our favorite bistros in the Northwest and our mutual love of seafood. I didn’t know how much time passed, but the skies were smooth now and Theo’s ghostly pallor had given way to rosy cheeks, a pretty smile, and a sunny disposition.
He was unassuming, charming, easy company, and very fucking cute. He had a habit of grabbing my hand when he was excited about a subject.
A sunrise on the Bay. Hand grab.
Avocado toast with salt, hot pepper flakes, and lemon. Hand grab.
His dad’s sheepdog, Benedict. Double hand grab.
“You really like Benedict, eh?” I teased, squeezing his fingers playfully.
Theo blushed as he pulled his hand away. “He’s six months old, but he’s absolutely ginormous. Here. I’ll show you a picture.”
He dug his cell from his bag, leaning against me as he flipped through his photo album. The sweet smell of peppermint drifted between us, stronger than ever. It had to be his shampoo. Was there such a thing as peppermint shampoo? Or peppermint cologne?
I inhaled deeply…not quite sniffing, but when you were inches apart from someone, deep breathing was kind of awkward.
“You smell like Christmas,” I blurted. “I mean peppermint.”
Theo’s smile was a sunbeam, all light and bright and beautiful. “Why, thank you. It’s the last of my holiday blend shampoo…and my lip balm.”
“Oh.”
He wrestled a tiny red-and-white striped tube from his pocket and uncapped it, liberally applying it to his lips. Sure enough, peppermint permeated our section.
“Now I really smell like Christmas.”
“And work.”
“Work? You’re too big to be one of Santa’s elves,” he joked. “If you’re Santa in disguise, I promise I haven’t been too naughty this year. Yet.”