wait in the gosh-darn cold for thirty minutes?” Joe frowned when he looked over in Quick’s direction. Cayson wasn’t surprised when he saw Quick’s gaze aimed dead-on at them. “Who is that?”
“He’s a friend. Dr. Joe, please go. I responded to your text.”
“What?” Joe yelled. “Fuck off! That’s your response to me? What has gotten into you Cayson? When’d you starting using explicit language? Are you… are you seeing that thug?”
“Okay, stop right there. First of all, you have no clue who that man is, so don’t call him names. Secondly, I don’t know why you’re here and upset. We don’t have a relationship.” Even as Cayson finished the sentence, Joe was looking around, terrified that someone may be lurking in the bushes with a voice recorder. “That right there. I’m done with that, Joe. You’ll never be out. I’m done with being confined to your closet. For some reason, I’ve compromised my morals and values and settled for less than I deserve.”
“Excuse me?” Joe said sternly, inching in closer. “‘Less than?’”
Cayson took a small step back. “Joe. You were always honest. I can’t fault you for that. You said you’d never be out and—”
“Is there a problem?” Quick’s voice was full of confidence and it made Cayson startle when the hard bass of that brusque tone carried to them.
Cayson put his hand up to signal he was fine, but Dr. Joe wasn’t smart enough to shut the fuck up. Could he not fully see what Quick looked like? Maybe all the large trees blocked his view. Quick just didn’t look like the kind of guy you picked a fight with.
“It’s none of your business. You can go now,” Joe said condescendingly. Like Quick was the grocery delivery guy.
“Joe. Keep your mouth closed.” Cayson looked at Quick. The expression he wore was equal parts scary, dangerous, and sexy.
“Did you lock the gate?” Joe asked Cayson, his eyes still on the hulking figure throwing death glares at him.
Before Cayson could nod, Quick took a half step back, braced one arm on the top of the gate and shot his large body over the fence in a single leap. He made it look effortless. Surprisingly, his huge boots made little sound when he landed on the other side, his leather coat flying up in the air behind him like a goddamn cape.
“My gosh. He’s not a thug, huh?” Joe crossed his thin arms over his equally thin chest, looking overly arrogant. The entire Wellington family had patented the look-down-your-nose-at-people face. Why had Cayson been so blind to it? Better said, why had he ignored it?
Cayson gritted his teeth. This was going bad fast. He dug his key into the lock and threw his front door open. He made a mental note to get his gate key back, too. Dr. Joe made to step inside, but Cayson put his hand on his chest, holding him in place. As soon as Quick was on the porch, it was almost comical the way both of their heads tilted up to look at him. It looked like a unanimous salute. He knew that Joe was assaulted by the same delightful smell of leather and wild that seem to embrace Quick’s body. Hiding his amusement at Dr. Joe’s surprise, Cayson ushered Quick through the front door with the grocery bags.
“Roman, the kitchen is straight back. I’m sure you’ll find everything easily. I’ll be right in.” Cayson didn’t let Quick respond; instead, he let his storm door close and waited for Quick to walk away.
“Are you crazy?” Cayson asked Joe, who was still standing and glaring inside Cayson’s door.
“Is this all because I won’t have your kind of sex with you?” Joe inquired, louder than Cayson would’ve have preferred. Joe was making him sound like a sexual deviant, like he’d asked his bed partner for something disgusting. What does he mean, “My kind of sex?” Cayson didn’t need elaboration right now. He didn’t want his seventy-year-old retired neighbors to know that he was a sexually repressed man.
“You’d take this drug dealer over
“He’s a friend. Dr. Joe, please go. I responded to your text.”
“What?” Joe yelled. “Fuck off! That’s your response to me? What has gotten into you Cayson? When’d you starting using explicit language? Are you… are you seeing that thug?”
“Okay, stop right there. First of all, you have no clue who that man is, so don’t call him names. Secondly, I don’t know why you’re here and upset. We don’t have a relationship.” Even as Cayson finished the sentence, Joe was looking around, terrified that someone may be lurking in the bushes with a voice recorder. “That right there. I’m done with that, Joe. You’ll never be out. I’m done with being confined to your closet. For some reason, I’ve compromised my morals and values and settled for less than I deserve.”
“Excuse me?” Joe said sternly, inching in closer. “‘Less than?’”
Cayson took a small step back. “Joe. You were always honest. I can’t fault you for that. You said you’d never be out and—”
“Is there a problem?” Quick’s voice was full of confidence and it made Cayson startle when the hard bass of that brusque tone carried to them.
Cayson put his hand up to signal he was fine, but Dr. Joe wasn’t smart enough to shut the fuck up. Could he not fully see what Quick looked like? Maybe all the large trees blocked his view. Quick just didn’t look like the kind of guy you picked a fight with.
“It’s none of your business. You can go now,” Joe said condescendingly. Like Quick was the grocery delivery guy.
“Joe. Keep your mouth closed.” Cayson looked at Quick. The expression he wore was equal parts scary, dangerous, and sexy.
“Did you lock the gate?” Joe asked Cayson, his eyes still on the hulking figure throwing death glares at him.
Before Cayson could nod, Quick took a half step back, braced one arm on the top of the gate and shot his large body over the fence in a single leap. He made it look effortless. Surprisingly, his huge boots made little sound when he landed on the other side, his leather coat flying up in the air behind him like a goddamn cape.
“My gosh. He’s not a thug, huh?” Joe crossed his thin arms over his equally thin chest, looking overly arrogant. The entire Wellington family had patented the look-down-your-nose-at-people face. Why had Cayson been so blind to it? Better said, why had he ignored it?
Cayson gritted his teeth. This was going bad fast. He dug his key into the lock and threw his front door open. He made a mental note to get his gate key back, too. Dr. Joe made to step inside, but Cayson put his hand on his chest, holding him in place. As soon as Quick was on the porch, it was almost comical the way both of their heads tilted up to look at him. It looked like a unanimous salute. He knew that Joe was assaulted by the same delightful smell of leather and wild that seem to embrace Quick’s body. Hiding his amusement at Dr. Joe’s surprise, Cayson ushered Quick through the front door with the grocery bags.
“Roman, the kitchen is straight back. I’m sure you’ll find everything easily. I’ll be right in.” Cayson didn’t let Quick respond; instead, he let his storm door close and waited for Quick to walk away.
“Are you crazy?” Cayson asked Joe, who was still standing and glaring inside Cayson’s door.
“Is this all because I won’t have your kind of sex with you?” Joe inquired, louder than Cayson would’ve have preferred. Joe was making him sound like a sexual deviant, like he’d asked his bed partner for something disgusting. What does he mean, “My kind of sex?” Cayson didn’t need elaboration right now. He didn’t want his seventy-year-old retired neighbors to know that he was a sexually repressed man.
“You’d take this drug dealer over
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