Page 85 of Not That Ridiculous

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told him.

They heated even more. Right. He liked it when I was sassy.

This man was a sex demon.

“Let’s get cleaned up and have some food,” I said, “and then…”

“What then, Charlie?”

“How about a game of Monopoly?”

“I think you’re trying to be funny, but whether you are or not, no thanks. After food, I’m going to pin you down on your bed and fuck you until you scream.”

16

Kevin sprawled in the kitchen chair, scraping the last of the macaroni cheese off his plate and making a satisfiedmmmsound as he did, eyes on me.

He’d been generous with the moaning the whole meal, the big flirt.

Phil, knowing that I had rules about begging at the dinner table, had bustled over to Kevin the moment we started eating. He sat at attention, alert and ready to take care of any rogue noodles. Unfortunately for Phil, Kevin had it covered. Phil still watched every single forkful, from plate to mouth and back again. Just in case.

After our…interlude…Kevin had jogged out to his Land Cruiser and brought in a gym bag with a clean change of clothes while I hurried upstairs to change. Since the tight jeans had done their job admirably well—a littletoowell, perhaps—I decided it was okay to take it down a notch.

I threw on a henley and a pair of washed-soft jeans that hung low on my hips and didn’t cup or showcase a damn thing. Much more my speed.

Kevin ducked into the downstairs bathroom to change, and I was serving up the food when I felt rather than heard him approaching. I glanced up as he came into the kitchen.

His shoulders looked broader in his plain burgundy t-shirt, and he was wearing sweatpants.

That was my Kevin, I’d thought.

I appreciated him in his fancy clothes, but I preferred him the way I knew him—in his cargos and work boots, or else in his athletic wear. Clothes that said he was ready to fix something, or be physical. Clothes that complimented the man he was.

The smart date clothes had made me feel bizarrely off-kilter.

“You’re an amazing cook, Charlie,” he said now as he set his fork down, and gave Phil a consoling pat.

Phil was in a huff over not getting any treats, but he waited until Kevin had stopped fussing him before he decided to express his feelings by shuffling off to lie on his bed. He put his back to the room and commenced snoring.

“Thanks,” I said. “Wait until you try the brownie.”

“Did you made that from scratch, too?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have a latte with it?”

I laughed as I stood and gathered the plates. Kevin leaned over and gently eased me away, carrying them to the dishwasher. “The person who cooks doesn’t clean,” he said.

“The person who buys his boyfriend a door and spends hours installing it doesn’t clean, either.” I attempted to nudge him aside and take over.

He ducked down and kissed me before bumping me away with a hip and tucking the plates into the dishwasher. “Boyfriend,” he said. “Never thought I’d have one of those. Goes to show, doesn’t it? You never know what life is going to spring on you.”

“I never thought I’d have one, either,” I said without thinking. I took some milk from the fridge and went over to my Gaggia.

“Why’s that, then? Aren’t you gay?”

“Oh no, I am definitely gay.”

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