Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“That sounds perfect,” Emilio said excitedly.
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. I love your cooking, and I saw your couch—there’s room for two on there if we snuggle close, and it’s in front of the TV. Would it bother you if I watch a game or something while you’re reading?”
Spencer stared at him for many long seconds, looking completely bewildered. “You’re planning our evenings?”
“Well, yeah. I’m moving in here so we can spend time together. Works out great that we like the same things, huh?”
Instead of answering his question, Spencer asked, “Don’t you think this is all moving a little fast?”
“Fast for who?”
“I don’t know.” Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion. “Faster than how people do things. We just met.”
“Yeah, well, I got you interested and I ain’t takin’ the chance of someone else coming in and stealing you from me. I don’t know what happened with those ex-boyfriends of yours, but I can see a good thing when he’s lying naked next to me.” Emilio grinned and winked. “This is my shot at you, Spencer, and I ain’t gonna blow it like those other guys.” He paused and then smirked as he said, “I’ll blow you, though. Anytime you want.”
Chapter 9
WHEN Spencer walked into his office building on Monday morning, he felt like he had been gone for two months instead of two days. He wasn’t a man who embraced change easily; it took him weeks to adjust to a new set of towels or different placement of the cleaning supplies under his kitchen sink. But between the end of his workday on Friday and the start of the day on Monday, everything in his home and his personal life had changed.
Well, maybe not everything, because Emilio didn’t have all that much stuff, so other than the bedroom closet and a few things in the bathroom, Spencer’s house looked mostly the same. But that was only if you were skimming the surface. Underneath there was a huge difference: another man was living in his house. Emilio Sanchez was living in his house. And he’d soon be starting construction—refinishing the floors, remodeling the bathroom and kitchen, redoing the electrical system.
In his entire life, Spencer had never been impetuous, had never moved quickly to change anything, had never blindly jumped with both feet into something that mattered, or even something that didn’t. But no amount of trepidation, or even abject fear, was going to keep him from pursing a relationship with Emilio. Given the number of dead-end relationships he had been part of or witnessed in his almost four decades, he knew a guy like Emilio—sweet, sexy, talented, attentive—was rare. So if Emilio was willing to give him the time of day, Spencer would push himself outside of his comfort zone. The time spent with Emilio would be worth it, even if the man ultimately decided not to pursue a future together.
“Dr. Derdinger! Dr. Derdinger!”
He stopped at the sound of the panicked voice and looked back over his shoulder to see one of the students from his complex variables class running down the hallway. One week into the fall semester, he hadn’t yet memorized every student’s name, and just placing the young man’s particular class seemed like cause for a pat on the back.
He waited for the student to catch up, then shifted his hold on his briefcase and said, “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I uh….” The man panted, both hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. “Sorry,” he said, sounding winded. “I shouldn’t have run after you like that.” A few more gasps. “Asthma.”
Spencer frowned in concern and said, “Do you have an inhaler?”
Floppy blond hair bobbed, and the student slipped his backpack off his shoulders and started fumbling with the zipper on the front pocket.
“I have it,” Spencer said as he dropped to his knees, let go of his briefcase, and reached for the man’s backpack. He located the inhaler and handed it over. After a couple of puffs and some more deep breathing, the man sounded better. Spencer put his hand on a bony shoulder and said, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” The young man squeezed his eyes shut. “Just embarrassed. Sorry.” He opened his big blue eyes and looked at Spencer from underneath his lashes.
“Don’t worry about it.” Spencer gave his shoulder a squeeze and then gathered his briefcase and the backpack and stood up. “My office is a few doors down, and I have comfortable chairs. Are you okay to walk?”
With a nod and another breath, the man straightened. They stayed silent as they walked to Spencer’s office. Spencer listened closely to the pace of his student’s breaths and focused on whether he sounded better.
“I need you to tell me if I should call for help or take you to the student clinic, okay? That doctor title is for a PhD, not an MD. You don’t want to be stuck with me if you have medical needs.”