Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Tony's smirk never faltered. "Is someone waiting for you back at home?"
My mind went immediately to Connor. Connor was there cleaning my house, maybe wiping the floor on his hands and knees. That would be a sight to see. What if Connor were mine? Mine to touch, to taste? Fuck. A man I had spent hours fantasizing about when I was younger was right in front of me, basically saying, "Hey, let's fuck," but I had absolutely no interest in him. All I wanted was Connor.
The way Tony looked at me made me feel unclean, whereas Connor could tell me to strip and get on my hands and knees, and I'd never feel dirty, only turned on. Well, maybe a little dirty, but the good kind, not the my-soul-has-been-soiled kind. Connor seemed like an honorable man. Tony, on the other hand, was a creep, and always had been.
"I'm trying to understand what's happening here," I said. "You haven't seen me in a decade, but since I'm gay and helped you out in high school, you figured I'd be an easy lay now that you're ready to admit what you want?"
Tony sputtered. "That's not—"
"Oh, I misunderstood then. You just want to chat and catch up on old times, like when you tried to get me to do your work while you were off doing the cheerleading squad?"
Tony grinned. "I did my share of the football team too."
Of course he had. "I don't need to have someone waiting for me at home in order to turn you down, Tony. I've got my dignity right here with me. I'll see you around."
I walked away and didn't look back.
A few hours later, after lunch and a bit more actual work, I headed home. When I was a block away, I could see Connor's truck still parked in the driveway. I picked up my pace, in case Connor was about to leave. Foolish, maybe, but I didn't care. I was going to get myself in trouble with this obsession. At least I wasn't stupid enough to have a "drink" with Tony. I laughed to myself, imagining Tony actually suggesting I "come up to see his etchings." What a creep! There was another car in the driveway too, something on the smaller side, a Civic or a Corolla. Connor had said one of his employees would be joining him.
"Hello!" I called when I stepped into my foyer. "I'm back."
"In the kitchen," Connor called. "We're just finishing up."
I set my bag on the table in the foyer that had become a catch-all for me. When I reached the kitchen, I was disappointed to see Connor replacing the rug in front of the sink and putting the chairs and stools back in place instead of scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees. Maybe one day I'd stay for the whole cleaning just for the chance to watch Connor's ass while he scrubbed.
I’d finally made the decision to list the house, but my chances of selling it fast were slim to none. Connor would probably be back several times. I couldn't say I minded that at all.
A woman walked in from the dining room. "Oh, you must be Dr. Parks."
"I am, but please call me Jeremy."
Connor turned from arranging the stools at the bar. They were perfectly spaced and pushed in exactly the same amount. "This is Sabrina. She's been working with me today."
"Hi!" Sabrina waved in greeting. "I love this house, by the way." She looked a few years younger than Connor, who I guessed was in his early thirties like I was. She was tall and willowy, and she'd pulled her long black hair into a ponytail. Her coloring made me guess she was Italian, but whatever her ethnic origins, she managed to be exquisitely beautiful and still have an easy-to-talk-to vibe.
"Thanks," I replied. "The house truly is gorgeous. I liked it as a kid, but I didn't fully appreciate it then."
"You lived here growing up?" Sabrina asked.
I nodded. "The house has been in my family for a long time. It became my aunt's after Grandma died. Then my mom died when I was ten, and my dad… well, he'd left long before that, so my aunt and uncle took me in."
"Oh, that was good of them," Sabrina said.
I didn't want to get into my mixed feelings about my aunt and uncle. "Yes, it was."
"But you weren't happy here?" Sabrina asked, obviously reading the subtext of my reluctant answer.
Normally, I gave as little information about myself as possible, but Sabrina was the sort of person who seemed to truly care about the answers to the questions she asked, so I let myself spill the details. "Not really, no. My aunt and uncle weren't cruel or anything. They gave me a good home."
"But not a warm one?"
Was she a mind reader? "No. They didn't really do warmth."