Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Well, I’m glad you landed here. Saving my ass, man.”
“No problem.” Esteban continued to stir the vegetables, looking comfortable in Russ’s little kitchen. It felt familiar, like this was something they did all the time, comforting almost.
Soren and the breakup had retreated from his brain for the time being. Esteban was gorgeous and helpful, but he wasn’t going to let his needy imagination paint him as any sort of rescuing knight. That would only lead to awkwardness. Better to be thankful for what he had.
Chapter Two
Esteban wasn’t kidding about feeling like he was on a cooking show. His neighbor’s ability to marvel at even basic chopping skills made him feel like some sort of culinary rock star, simply because he could sauté vegetables without burning them to a crisp. Helping out had been something of a whim, but man, that poor pan…
He shook his head as he stirred the onion and celery, remembering how badly Russ had ruined his skillet. It had practically been a public service, volunteering to help.
That, and he’d been more than a little intrigued by his big, stoic neighbor for weeks now, wondering what his story was. Russ being ex-military had already been Esteban’s favorite theory based on simply looking at him—buzz-cut, dirty-blond hair, official-looking emblem tattooed on his forearm, perma-scowl, and a seriously massive frame with an intimidating array of hot-as-fuck muscles.
Esteban wasn’t short, but Russ had to be six-foot-five at least and managed to make Esteban feel downright petite. And somehow he was feeding that professional wrestler body frozen food?
Yeah, Esteban was going to hand out more lessons, if only to save the guy from himself.
“I guess it’s time to get the turkey breast in the oven as well,” Russ observed as they finished the stuffing and put it in the oven.
The plan was to bake it now, then reheat prior to serving. Russ studied a sheet with neat lines of cramped writing and multiple bullet points. He certainly had potential as a cook, if he could be that organized even with limited culinary skills. The ability to execute a well-thought-out plan was an underrated skill, and there was something strangely sexy about Russ poring over his plan.
“Yup. Get your roasting pan.” Esteban had to laugh at Russ’s blank look. “Large baking pan? If it’s just a breast, you can make do without a formal roaster.”
“Good.” He had a decisive voice that matched his large frame—deep and in-charge without being overbearing. Retrieving a stainless lasagna-sized pan that looked brand-new, he offered an endearingly hopeful smile. “This is all I’ve got. Think it will work?”
“Yup. Seriously, though, we’re going to have to take you cookware shopping. New set of skillets and a roasting pan that will come in handy whenever you cook for a group. I’ve used mine for a ton of dinner parties. I’ve done a fabulous version of my mom’s pavo salvadoreño—roast turkey. My sister claims hers is closer to Mami’s, but I love doing it at Christmastime for friends as well.”
“Wow. I uh…” A pink flush crept up Russ’s neck. “Not many dinner parties here. Not really a party kind of guy.”
“No? That’s too bad.”
He didn’t like thinking of Russ as lonely, but he tried to quash the rush of sympathy. He was here to help with the meal, not fix Russ’s social life or lack thereof. Even if the news that Russ was gay was intriguing as hell, Esteban did not do guys on the rebound. Period. Rebound led to heartache. Never again.
He asked, “What do marines do for fun?”
“Not sure.” Russ’s mouth twisted. “I was deployed a lot of the time, so not as much downtime. And a lot of the guys liked cards or bars, but those weren’t really my thing. Had some good workout buddies though, right up until I blew out both knees and the marines decided not to let me re-up. Medical discharge. I’ve recovered from my surgeries for the most part, but I still haven’t found a decent gym for lifting here.”
There was a lot of pain behind Russ’s matter-of-fact words, and despite his resolution not to get involved, Esteban’s chest pinched with empathy. He knew a thing or two about career options not working out the way one expected.
“I know a number of gay-friendly gyms. Depends on if you want a serious power-lifting, no-extras vibe or more of a hookup joint with smoothie bar and steam room and such, but there are a number of options.”
“Not a hookup place.” Russ gave the turkey a sour frown. “I’m off hookups for good. And relationships too.”
More than a little amused at Russ’s emphatic tone, he couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’ve been broken up, what? Less than twenty-four hours. Give it time. You’ll be changing your tune.”
“Maybe I liked the idea of Soren more than the actuality. Like maybe having a boyfriend just isn’t all that.” Russ plopped the turkey in the pan, right from the package. He took a step toward the oven.