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The smell of burgers permeated my senses and my stomach rumbled. Adam poked
the nearest bag with a blunt finger, blue eyes curious. What s this? Not lamb? Or
beans? Or something snooty the lawyers sent, right? It smells like food.
Was that a joke? You need to tell me when you re joking.
His smile put the sun to shame and this time, I didn t look away.
Go put your shirt on, boy-o, and I ll buy you a hamburger.
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L.B. Gregg
* * * *
Kurt arrived when we finished dinner. He rang the bell, but he wouldn t come in,
so I was forced to stand in the foyer with the front door open. Light was fading fast on
South Street. Near the rectory, a lone media truck was parked, but there was no sign of
life from that quarter. They were probably having dinner. I angled myself out of sight
anyway.
Kurt looked tired. He had Kipling on a leash, and he handed me the dog and a bag
of supplies. Porter s not answering the phone. I m relinquishing Kipling into your
hands.
Mitzie said you were sitting. I petted the exhausted puppy and his wet tongue
lapped at my wrist. She said you spoke this morning.
She s a crazy bitch no wonder Porter s hiding. His sudden misogyny caught me
off guard. I liked Mitzie.
I don t think she s crazy or a bitch; Porter wronged her and she s hurt. He said
he d meet with her. Of course she s worried.
What did she say?
Not much.
The porch light made Kurt s pale hair gleam and suspicion slithered across my
consciousness. Porter, John and I weren t the only blond men with access to my house.
Although what Kurt would gain from hurting Geoff or me for that matter I couldn t
figure. Are you worried that Mitzie said something?
About? I wouldn t believe a word that woman says. Seriously. I m wondering why
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she s still here? If you toss her out the door, I guarantee Porter will come home. You can
see that, right?
Yes. I can. However, I m not going to be unkind to that girl. Technically, she s
family until tomorrow.
Fine. But hear me. I can t sit the dog, Holden, I have to work. The bank frowns on
animals in the workplace. People get fired for less than this, and it s not a good time to
be unemployed. Porter s not coming back until Mitzie leaves. End of story.
We ll& I ll take care of the dog. Which was probably Porter s secret plan all along.
I was going to kill him when I saw him. Kipling licked my knuckles tiredly. If you see
Porter, tell him to call me.
Sure. I m going to the Village, Kurt announced as if that were an important news
bulletin. He marched down driveway in his chinos and loafers off for another evening
on the barstool. He must be lonely without his drinking buddy. The two of them had
cut a wide swath throughout the county over the last few weeks drinking and
carousing. My parents would be so proud.
I watched him disappear, heading to the Green. C mon Kip. Let s find you
supper.
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L.B. Gregg
Chapter Ten
I locked the doors, tucked the slumbering puppy against my chest, and led the way
to the backstairs. The door squeaked when I opened it. C mon.
Adam s mouth hitched and he flipped the light switches. The kitchen darkened.
The green glow of the clock stove flashed above the stove 7:00. The house was quiet,
the dishes were done, and I wanted a smoke. Adam followed me. Are you taking me
upstairs for pleasures of the flesh again or is this something else?
We ll see, maybe if you re very nice& but actually, right now I want an Ashton. I
want a scotch. I want to think.
I could go
You could, but where would be the fun in that? You smoke?
I felt Adam s eyes on me as we took the back stairs to my suite. Nope, but I ll
watch you.
He couldn t know how sexual that was, could he? Maybe he did. Maybe our
fantasies were in line and Adam could sit at my feet while I stroked his wonderful thick
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In And Out
hair and forgot everything. He could suck my cock as I relaxed into the leather recliner
with a fine smoke and good drink and a beautiful boy.
While I battled lust, found my cigar and poured us both a drink, Adam opened the
French doors to the balcony. A cool breeze fluttered the sheers and freshened my room.
I left the exhausted puppy on the mat in my bathroom, and then stalled in the doorway
to the porch, not because I was hesitant but because I was enjoying Adam as he took
in the backyard from this brand new perspective. He was more alive unencumbered by
walls, comfortable in his skin. Not hemmed in. The difference between us was striking
although I was at one time in my life very much at peace under these same stars.
I saw this from the yard. It s so private. He fingered the rough vines the same
way my mother used to, the same way every gardener I d ever met did rubbing them
gently, rolling its stems between his thumb and fingers. These must be so lovely when
they bloom.
They are. I could sit beneath the bower with a stogie and two fingers of scotch
and watch the evening sun set over Smithfield Woods while in the peak of summer the
bats swooped over the pool. In the distance, I could just make out the boardwalk and
its bridges from the porch swing. It was a private nook, with a trellis that met the patio
two stories below. My favorite place but even it couldn t compare to the sight of Adam
fingering my vine. I cleared my throat. When I was a kid, I used to sneak here at night
and climb down to trouble. My brothers and I. My old room is below this one.
I handed Adam his glass, which he sniffed warily. What s this?
Seltzer.
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