Page 25 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

“The veranda, as Lowen likes to call it,” Bane says, chuckling as he obliterates a zombie on screen.

“Cool.”

I walk down the hall and through the dining room to get to the patio. Sure enough, Wren is sitting in a chair, soaking up some sun and scrolling on his phone.

I rap on the French door as I step outside. He looks over at me and smiles.

“Hey.”

He nods. “You slept in too, huh?”

“Bane woke me up. Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead.” He hands me his phone. “Playing with menu ideas for next week. What do you think?”

I read over his notes, smiling at his clever naming conventions for dishes. He’s got something for everyone, fromthe light lunch crowd to the drinking crews that close us down every night.

“Looks solid, man.”

“Thanks.” He takes his phone back. “I think I’ll wait until a few weeks into summer to decide if I really need to hire more kitchen staff. I like how busy it is right now.”

“Your call, just remember not to kill yourself. You need downtime too. What about your books and orders and stuff?”

He scrunches his nose. “Yeah, good point. I’m getting it done, but it’s a lot.”

“Right. We’ve got the budget for it, so think about that. It was hard for us too in the beginning. We were all there all the time, but we’re starting to find the right balance. You will too.”

Wren nods, studying my face for a second. I return his gaze, replaying how incredibly hot he looked grinding on my lap last night.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He blinks and chuckles, like he was in a daze he just snapped out of. “Your dick, if I’m being honest.”

I laugh, sitting in the chair next to him. “I’m a fan of honesty.”

“I figured you’d be pierced. You seem like the kind of guy who would have one.”

“I did once, so you’re actually correct. I took it out though. It kept catching on my underwear and guys told me I tasted like licking a penny.”

Wren snorts a laugh. “Oops.”

“It was a frenum barbell. Looked hot but wasn’t worth the drama.”

“That’s too bad.”

I shrug. “I’m doing fine without it.”

“Yeah, you are,” he says, almost under his breath.

We’re quiet for a few seconds until it hits me that he’s not at Moby’s. “What are you still doing at home?”

He chuckles. “Finally noticed, huh? I texted Carlos this morning and asked him to open since lunch on Thursdays is usually pretty slow. It’s a test run to see how he does.”

“Wicked smart.”

“I’m trying. I’m actually proud of myself for letting go of a little control. He hasn’t called or texted yet, and neither has Indy, so I’m assuming all is well.”

“Nice. Well done.”

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