Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“I did meet them. It was the summer before my sophomore year of college. They played in a small venue in Minneapolis. My parents bribed us home with the tickets. We went backstage and met the band. There was lots of smoking and partying going on, if I remember correctly,” he said with a smile, remembering how self-conscious his daddy had been in that kind of an environment.
“Rich kid,” Landon muttered teasingly, giving his best Italian pfft then nodding toward the sausage on a stick street truck. Landon started toward the truck, turning back to him after a couple of steps and then walking backward. When their arms stretched as far as they could, Landon gave a quick, forceful tug to get him moving. Of course, he had no choice but to follow. A playful Landon was a sexy guy. He was beginning to understand he’d follow this man anywhere he led.
“I think it’s more like the benefits of having a father who was vice president. He could get us into a lot of things. He also opened our eyes to some of the most extreme poverty I’ve ever seen in my life at the places he had us volunteer our time. They made me see the whole world for its good and its bad,” Robert said, trailing after him. Landon corrected his stride, turning back in the direction of the truck, giving Robert another nice view.
Landon had a natural strut to his gait, his ass swinging with every step he took. Landon let go of his hand when he reached the counter and placed his order. Robert caught up, pulling his wallet free from his walking shorts.
“You know that’s a heart attack on a stick.”
“Is that your expert opinion?” Landon asked, grinning as he barely spared Robert a glance. His whole attention was on the man shoving a stick inside the long Italian sausage.
“Yeah. Pretty much everyone’s expert opinion.” Robert slid a ten-dollar bill across the ledge to the cashier as Landon reached for his wallet, thumbing through his cash. Robert stepped back, giving Landon access to the small row of condiments on the side of the truck. “Keep the change.”
“No, wait. I’m paying,” Landon said, the sausage forgotten as Landon swiped a finger through the air, instructing the cashier to give Robert back his money. “I’m paying. Not him.”
Robert tucked his wallet back inside his pocket and stepped farther away. He brought forward his hard, unyielding stare, something he inherited from his dad and shook his head, getting a deer-in-the-headlights look back in return.
Now, both sets of eyes stared at him, but Landon’s had shifted to angry. For as well as he and Landon had gotten along over the last several days, money was becoming a budding problem between them. More than anything, Robert didn’t want that to be the case. Last night, while waiting for Landon to return home from his shift at the base, he gave himself lectures, trying to gain perspective regarding all these intensely possessive, caveman urges that kept welling inside him regarding Landon. One he refused to shake off was his need to be the one to provide for Landon. He liked paying Landon’s way. He liked it more than he ever thought possible, and he wasn’t nearly ready to stop. Actually, he never wanted to stop. He wanted to spoil Landon. Give him a life he deserved…
“I don’t even want this now.” Landon’s words took Robert from his thoughts of a long-term, loving committed relationship. This was what Robert kept doing over and over again—getting ahead of himself. He was so focused on Landon that anytime he let his thoughts go, it ended with them walking down the aisle. With extreme effort, Robert reined in his wayward thoughts and tucked his hands inside his short’s pockets.
“I doubt that,” he quipped when Landon started toward him. Robert ventured a glance in Landon’s direction. Landon looked pissed, his gaze darting anywhere except for Robert’s direction. The fact that the man still walked side by side with him was a win in his favor, so he figured he’d just keep the rest of his comments to himself for now. When Landon finally took a big bite of the mustard-coated sausage, he hoped that meant they were done with the argument.
Silence held between them for maybe as long as the next twenty steps. Robert pretended not to notice the irritation evident in Landon’s heavier than normal steps.
“Have I messed up the evening?” he finally asked. They had traveled along the outskirts of the carnival, not immersing themselves in the crowd. Robert stared up at the colorful Ferris wheel in the distance, watching his hopes of riding the ride with Landon fade with every second of silence that passed between them.
“I have money. You don’t need to keep paying for everything. I can pay,” Landon blurted out, coming to a sudden stop, causing the people behind him to walk around to avoid bumping into him. Robert was slower to stop. When he did, he scanned their surroundings, wondering how many eyes were focused on Landon. There were several, and by default, they were now looking at him since all Landon’s irritation was aimed straight his way.