Page 106 of Reinventing Cato
Vigge wasn’t at home when he arrived so Cato let himself in. He dumped all his stuff in the hall and carried the groceries to the kitchen. The meal was courtesy of Waitrose recipe cards that Cato had picked up in the shop. He didn’t often bother making something as elaborate for dinner. Knowing that once he’d started to cook for Sam and Pedro, he’d end up doing it more often than he’d like, he only went to this sort of trouble every few weeks and he never made desserts. Though he did love cooking.
That evening’s meal was a chestnut, sage and onion nut loaf with a sundried tomato sauce, roast potatoes, honey-roast parsnips and minty peas, with a pear and walnut tart for dessert. An hour later, everything was prepared to the point that it was okay to leave and finish off once Vigge was back. Cato had set the table, washed up and there was nothing else he could do.
He took both phones into the sitting room along with a glass of red wine poured from a bottle he’d bought. The log burning stove was ready to be lit so he started it going, then lay on the couch and watched as the fire took hold.
Vigge’s place was cosy. Would he want to buy somewhere eventually? Cato had never had a place of his own. He’d moved around too much to make owning a property the right choice. If he went to America, he definitely wouldn’t be buying anywhere. NASA’s research centre was in the heart of Silicon Valley and the monthly average housing costs were the highest in the entire country. He’d be well paid, but notthatwell paid.
There was no message from Vigge on his pay-as-you-go, so he checked his iPhone. It annoyed him that a simple action like looking at his messages and emails made his heart thump hard, but it did. Three of his friends had responded to the party invite, two accepting. There was a reminder from NASA about tomorrow’s interview and a voicemail from his mother saying how much she and his father had enjoyed the concert and to call her soon. Cato rolled his shoulders. He ought to call her. There was a text from Max asking him to please contact him. That would be ahell no.And one message that he didn’t want to open until Vigge got back. Because…
He held onto his determination until after he’d drunk the wine. Then he clicked it open.Do you need another reminder?A moment of not breathing, a few seconds of sheer panic, before Cato descended into rage. Who the fuck was messing with him? Would they just stop if he said no to NASA or was there more to it than that? Did they want to wreck his entire bloody life?
Asking him a question implied that he could answer, but when he tried to send a reply, it didn’t deliver. Probably just as well becauseFuck off, you fucking fucktard of a fuckheadwouldn’t have improved the situation.
By the time he heard a car pull up outside the house, Cato had calmed down. He rushed into the kitchen, switched on the oven and poured Vigge a glass of wine. The smile Vigge gave him when he walked in, sank into Cato’s heart and warmed him from the inside out.
“Food, wine and you?” Vigge smiled.
“You got that the wrong way round. Me, wine and food.”
Vigge walked straight over, pulled him into his arms and kissed him. Mouths together, tongues twisting, and as the kiss deepened, it was as if pure need was pouring into Cato’s mouth. His cock went rock hard and he could feel Vigge’s was the same. As they wrapped themselves around each other, Cato grew more and more desperate.I could come just from kissing him, just a little more pressure and—He gasped as Vigge pulled back looking as lust-drunk as he felt.
“Was that for the food, the wine, or me?” Cato asked.
“It was for being here to kiss when I got back.”
“You could get a dog.”
“I don’t want to kiss a dog.”
“What? Not even a cute little dachshund?”
“No.”
Cato smiled. “Have you had a good day?”
“Productive.” Viggo picked up the wine and sipped it.
When he didn’t say more, Cato showed him the message.
Vigge sighed. “I thought I told you not to reply?”
“I was pissed off. My fingers couldn’t help themselves.”
Vigge pulled him back into his arms and hugged him. “Any more thoughts on who might have it in for you?”
“I’m fairly certain Louise hates me. But even so, I just don’t see either her or Max threatening my family, and she wouldn’t risk hurting herself in a car accident.” He rubbed his throat. “Can we not talk about it tonight? It’s like falling down a well and not being able to climb out.”
“Two violins in the hall?”
“I brought my electric one too, and my amp. We’ll play after dinner.”
“Something smells good.”
“Eel cake for you, pizza for me.”
Vigge laughed. “It better not be.”
Cato plated up the food and put it on the table.
