Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Smells amazing.”
“Here. Try the wine. This Sauv Blanc is very well-rounded and drinkable, and I’m eager to see what you think.” Spencer handed him a goblet with a delicate stem that Bacon had to hope he wasn’t going to accidentally snap.
“I haven’t had alcohol in over a month, and I’m really tired of trading MREs with Shiny or finding out what the chow hall can do with rice. I’m going to be easy to impress.”
Spencer laughed but kept looking at him like he really cared about his reaction. The wine was crisp and clean tasting and not too oaky which was pretty much all Bacon required from a wine.
“It’s good. Tasty. I’m already plotting a poly triad with your mattress and your shower. Might invite the wine for some action too.”
“You’re right. You are easy to impress.” Spencer gave him a quick wine-laced kiss. Bacon’s mom enjoyed cooking for him, but she didn’t do the whole nicely set table and carefully plated food like Spencer, who made it feel more like he was in a high-end restaurant. In his underwear.
In short order, Spencer brought two plates to the dining table. His had more of the medley of asparagus, carrots, and zucchini and just a few strips of chicken while Bacon had a generous fan of perfectly done chicken with some sort of herb sauce and a big portion of the pasta. The pasta was different but good, and Bacon was just so damn hungry that he kind of forgot he was supposed to be making small talk until his plate was half-empty.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “We were in the field most of the last week. Then the flight home—”
“Don’t apologize. Please.” Spencer patted his arm. “I like watching you eat like a wild animal. You’re fun to cook for. And I made plenty. Dessert too.”
“That tart?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes.” Spencer gave him an indulgent smile. “And I know you probably can’t tell me about the mission—”
“You’d be right.” Bacon made sure his regret over that showed in his tone. He wouldn’t mind telling Spencer all about it, but he had to be careful here.
“But was it a success?”
“You could call it that, yeah. But I mean, any deployment that ends with two of our guys out on medical leave is hardly a rousing success.” He shuddered and took a long drink of the wine.
“They didn’t die, though, right? That’s something.”
“Not sure D—he’s going to see it that way. The one guy was injured in a blast. Ultimately he lost a leg, a foot, and a hand. He’ll never serve again.” He ran a hand through his hair. Trying to not tell Spencer too much was hard. Even now, his mouth soured thinking of the extent of Donaldson’s injuries. “Sucks. And I’ve known these guys for years. I know the long road ahead.”
“It does suck.” Spencer squeezed his arm across the table again. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad they didn’t die either.”
“Thanks.” His pasta hardened to a lead balloon in his belly at the reminder that he probably shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be pursuing this...whatever it was with Spencer. Plenty of his teammates wouldn’t understand what he was doing, for a variety of reasons.
But then he took a sip of the wine, let its clean flavor mellow out the tension in his throat, and glanced at Spencer, who was looking at him with soft concern. That right there. That look. He hadn’t had someone who cared in an awfully long time, and while he knew better than to get all fanciful about Spencer and where this thing was going, he was going to enjoy this as long as it lasted. Screw the outside world. All he knew was that he liked who he was when he was with Spencer and he wanted more time with that self.
Chapter Sixteen
“Four this morning? Got company?” The woman at the counter of the bagel place next to Spencer’s building had been serving him for years, and knew his order of an everything bagel, smoked salmon cream cheese, and a gourmet-brand orange juice by heart. Melba had to be seventy now, and she’d known him through the single years, the marriage to Greg, and beyond. So he guessed she’d earned her nosiness but it still rankled.
“Maybe.” He gave her an arch look. “And put the everything bagel in a separate bag—don’t want to contaminate the sweet bagels.”
He’d picked out a selection of offerings for Del to choose from—cinnamon crunch, cranberry, and blueberry with honey cream cheese on the side. He’d left Del passed out in his bed, sprawled in the center like he’d been there for years. The poor guy needed every scrap of extra sleep he could get, so Spencer had left him a note before heading to his early morning barre class. He’d figured he’d be nice and return with food for them both, but Melba was taking her sweet time filling his order. He hoped Del was still asleep when he made it back. Just the thought of waking him up, maybe sharing another shower together, had him shifting from side to side to avoid getting too aroused in the middle of the bagel joint.