Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Did you have a decorator fix this place up for you?”
Leo sniffed. “I’m gay. Don’t you think I could’ve done it myself?”
I raised my brows and stared at him.
“Yes, I hired someone,” he said as he pulled open the fridge. “Why?”
“I just wondered what it would be like if you’d decorated it yourself. What would your style be?”
He placed the bacon package on the counter and turned to look at me. Something flashed in his eyes for just a moment. Sadness? Regret? Then he just shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Why don’t you put up some of your art?”
“I told you. It’s personal. I don’t like to share it.”
“I bet the colors would be brighter.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
I dropped the subject and continued studying the apartment. I couldn’t help but wonder how he afforded such a nice place. I didn’t know what tattoo-shop owners made, and maybe CIA operatives made more than I thought, despite being government employees. Or perhaps the vigilante business was super profitable, though didn’t he track down criminals as, like, a service?
“How did you end up with this place?” Shit. I’d asked that out loud. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
Leo laid several bacon slices in a cast-iron frying pan, and they began to sizzle. “You’re wondering how I afford this pricey building and such a nice car?”
“Um… yeah.”
“Vigilance takes paying clients. It’s not all charity work, and we charge what we’re worth.”
“Oh.” So he was a paid assassin as well as a superhero seeking justice. Yay.
Leo flipped the bacon over before continuing. “I didn’t leave the CIA on normal terms. There was a settlement. I can’t give you any details, but I’m quite comfortable now.”
“So… why do you own the shop?”
“I worked at that shop when I was in high school. Carlo, the owner, helped me accept who I was. My father left when I was five and my sister was three. We never saw him again. My mom always supported me, but she didn’t know how to help a gay teen find his way, and even if she had known, she’d worked two jobs to make ends meet. Carlo passed away a few years before I moved back here, and the shop never reopened. I wanted to revive it to honor him.
“That’s really nice.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Leo went to answer it. He returned with our waffles and coffee. The bacon was popping and sizzling wildly, and he began taking it out of the pan after setting the other things down.
Breakfast was delicious. Leo had cooked the bacon to crispy perfection, and the waffle was amazing and a total sugar rush. After so much food and an active night filled with such a rollercoaster of emotion, I felt like I could curl back up in bed and fall asleep with my body full of fat and carbs. The caffeine didn’t even seem to be affecting me.
“I was going to suggest we go out and get a Christmas tree, but you still look tired.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” I yawned, making my denial rather pointless.
“Why don’t we watch some Law and Order first? You can snuggle on the couch with me until you’re more rested.”
I sighed. “That sounds like heaven.”
He gestured toward the couch as he opened up a cabinet and pulled out a DVD box set of the first ten seasons.
“Maybe we really are compatible.” I sucked in my breath as soon as the words were out. “Just pretend I didn’t say that.”
Leo glanced back at me. “Never.” He slipped a disc into the DVD player. “No making fun of my ancient technology. I’m old, okay?”
“I like it, and old or not, you’re in way better shape than me.” But I did wonder. “How old are you?”
“Maybe we should keep that a mystery.”
I shook my head. “You totally know how old I am.”
“I know a lot about you.”
“Did you do a background check on me or something?”
“I do a background check on anyone I consider hiring. With my past, and current side job, it’s necessary.”
“And here I was thinking I was sharing things you didn’t know.”
“You are. I didn’t learn about what you liked, only things like the fact you’ve never been arrested, that you were a straight-A student, and that you dropped out of college, moved to Boston, took a retail job briefly, then started working at the café.”
“Did you know before I told you last night that I’d never…”
“No, I swear. That’s not something I’d be able to confirm even if I’d tried, and I didn’t. If I’d known—”
“If you’d have known, you never would’ve started anything with me.”
“It would’ve been one more reason not to, but no matter how many reasons I gave myself, I couldn’t stay away from you.”
“Really?”
“I told myself not to hire you because being near you would tempt the hell out of me every second you were in the shop, but I hired you anyway. I could’ve sent you to a safe house last night with very reliable security guards to watch over you, but I wanted to take care of you myself.”