Page 87 of The King of Halloween
No.Halloween was in a week. They reserved the ballroom for a fancy dinner for the guests. Or were supposed to, but Raj forgot to contact any caterers, and now it was looking more like cheese and crackers.
“I’m sorry, but…” Raj reached into his pocket as if he’d find an excuse there. To his confusion, what fell out was the invoice from the fire marshal.Didn’t Logan take this?
The number, an arbitrary amount that really equaled a bribe, taunted him.Play ball. Give in to their demands.Well, two could play at that game.
“We’re having a bit of trouble with the fire marshal.” Raj put on his biggest smile. “Despite passing all our tests, he’s demanding we pay for more.”
The mayor sighed. “That sounds like Roger. He thinks he’s stopping the heathens from taking over this city. If I see what I can do to get him to back off, will the ballroom be open?”
Raj folded the invoice in half. “Yes,” he said, tearing it down the middle, then once again. “We have a deal.”
“Wonderful.”
Raj started his car, and the mayor had enough sense to step back to the other side of the street. “I’ll get Marianne to call you and set everything up. Can’t wait to see you at the ball. And don’t forget.”
Just as Raj started to pull out, he looked over as the mayor formed two Vs over his eyes with his fingers, then drew them apart. “It’s a masquerade.”
?
Casual.
He wants to keep things casual.
I can do casual. Sunday brunch on his ass. A quick matinee and hand job on Saturday. Bumping into each other in the grocery store on Thursday before bumping my cock down his throat in the parking lot.
Simple. Easy.
None of those feelings getting in the way of just sex. Good, hard, so damn incredible, I feel like I could die in his arms, sex.
“Adam?”
So what if I like the way he fits in my arms and my pants? That’s not casual. That’s what people in relationships do. They stay at each other’s houses, see each other’s houses. Even learn their boyfriend’s damn address. Bring over a toothbrush, get a drawer. Have their favorite creamer in his fridge.
But it’s not easy. Or casual.
“Dear?” His mother leaned over, jerking him from staring a hole through the remaining cranberry scone. “Ethel asked if you wanted the last one?”
He jerked, rattling the cold cup of tea in his hand. “No. Please. Be my guest.”
The way she snatched that scone like a cobra going after a baby rabbit told him he’d have lost even if he had wanted it. Adam tried to sit back and find a comfortable view of the tea house. He didn’t join his mother often, but today he hadn’t wanted to spend his lunch hour alone.
Or worse, with the damn pumpkin head.
“Aren’t you supposed to be hosting some gourd ceremony?” Ethel asked.
“The pumpkin carving contest,” Joyce said.
“No, I believe it’s the pumpkin chucking,” his mother said.
“That’s a waste of perfectly good produce if you ask me. And it invites squirrels. Nasty things.”
The local birders’ society collapsed into a black hole circling enemy number one—squirrels. Adam didn’t have much of an opinion, but he nodded to every tree rat comment to keep the peace. Maybe he should wash his sheets once he got home. A casual hookup wouldn’t want to smell the man all over him as he slept. To bake in whatever heat remained trapped between those blankets and pretend for a minute that he was still there in his arms.
Casual. I can do casual.
When the society started in on kids and their ticking tocks, Adam had to excuse himself. “Sorry, ladies, but I need to return to my store.” The devil only knew what Chrissy was up to without him. “If you will forgive me.” Adam gave a deep bow to each woman, then he took his leave.
“Wait, love.” His mother slapped down a twenty. With her purse in her lap, she hustled out of her chair after him. “Why don’t I accompany you on the way back?”
