Read Online The Mating of Michael by Eli Easton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eli Easton
Ads: Link
went over to the Olympics. It was a perfect weekend for it. What about you? Been having any non-work fun lately?”
Michael shrugged. “You know me. I’m all about my patients.”
Jack tapped Michael lightly on the forehead. “There’s part of you in there that’s not a nurse, you know.”
Michael huffed a laugh. “Yeah, and that guy reads Heinlein in bed in his underwear. Not a compelling picture, I can tell you.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jack’s eyes twinkled. “Could be quite compelling—for the right guy.”
Michael felt a twist of disappointment in his gut. Yeah , I thought I’d found that guy, but I was wrong . He gave a dismissive shrug. “Anyway, let’s talk about Mr. Peterson.”
Jack gave him a look that said I know you’re just trying to change the subject , but he went with it anyway. “Lem agreed to meet you after I showed him your profile, but he’s extremely anxious about it. In fact, he told me flat out he didn’t think it would work, but he wants to try. He really does want to get better. Some part of him does, anyway.”
“I’ll take it slow with him,” Michael assured Jack. “Does he have an injury or performance issues I need to be aware of? E.D.?”
“No, I managed to coax him through a physical, which was extremely uncomfortable for him. He has no physical impairment, but his emotional issues are acute. I think just getting comfortable being around you at all would be a win. I’ve outlined some suggestions for your sessions, but of course, when you meet with him, you should follow your gut, as usual.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll be the prince of sensitivity. I won’t scare him.”
Jack put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I trust you, Michael. Believe me, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t send Lem Peterson to you.”
That touched Michael down deep in the core of who he was as a person. Jack didn’t give his approval lightly, and his validation of Michael as a surrogate meant more than just about anything in the world. Michael’s throat got a little lumpy with pride, but he swallowed it.
“Thanks, Jack. I really needed to hear that today.”
Jack studied his face. “Oh, yeah? Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me anytime.”
“Sure,” Michael said, though he had no intention of talking to Jack about his love life or lack thereof. At this point, all he could do would be to whine about not being able to meet the right guy, and given the people with real problems that they both dealt with day to day, that was just pathetic. “So. Do you want to go over your outline?”
W HEN M ICHAEL opened the door of his apartment, Lem Peterson looked as if he was on the verge of expiring from mortification. His milky blue eyes dropped immediately to stare at his shoes, and his round face went an alarming shade of tomato pink. He looked seconds away from fleeing, and Michael steeled himself to prevent that at any cost. He’d just have to be the sweetest, most innocuous little damn ray of sunshine Lem Peterson had ever seen.
“Mr. Peterson? It’s so lovely to meet you. Please come in. It’s drafty in the hall, isn’t it?”
Michael’s apartment was on Capitol Hill, Seattle’s gay neighborhood, and it was in a converted old house. Michael loved the high ceilings and 1900s moldings, but it was a bit cold. Nevertheless, the nudge was meant more to give Mr. Peterson a good reason to step inside. Thankfully, he did.
“I…,” Mr. Peterson said, before his throat apparently closed up. He was still looking at his shoes.
“Do you like hot tea? I made a nice pot of chamomile. But I can also make you a cup of coffee if you prefer.”
Choices. Give the man something to agree to.
“Tea is fine. I like tea. Thank you,” Mr. Peterson said in a very soft voice. He dared a glance at Michael’s face before blushing harder and looking down again.
Well, that was progress.
“Good. I’ll go get the tea. You can toss your coat on that chair and take a seat
Michael shrugged. “You know me. I’m all about my patients.”
Jack tapped Michael lightly on the forehead. “There’s part of you in there that’s not a nurse, you know.”
Michael huffed a laugh. “Yeah, and that guy reads Heinlein in bed in his underwear. Not a compelling picture, I can tell you.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jack’s eyes twinkled. “Could be quite compelling—for the right guy.”
Michael felt a twist of disappointment in his gut. Yeah , I thought I’d found that guy, but I was wrong . He gave a dismissive shrug. “Anyway, let’s talk about Mr. Peterson.”
Jack gave him a look that said I know you’re just trying to change the subject , but he went with it anyway. “Lem agreed to meet you after I showed him your profile, but he’s extremely anxious about it. In fact, he told me flat out he didn’t think it would work, but he wants to try. He really does want to get better. Some part of him does, anyway.”
“I’ll take it slow with him,” Michael assured Jack. “Does he have an injury or performance issues I need to be aware of? E.D.?”
“No, I managed to coax him through a physical, which was extremely uncomfortable for him. He has no physical impairment, but his emotional issues are acute. I think just getting comfortable being around you at all would be a win. I’ve outlined some suggestions for your sessions, but of course, when you meet with him, you should follow your gut, as usual.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll be the prince of sensitivity. I won’t scare him.”
Jack put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I trust you, Michael. Believe me, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t send Lem Peterson to you.”
That touched Michael down deep in the core of who he was as a person. Jack didn’t give his approval lightly, and his validation of Michael as a surrogate meant more than just about anything in the world. Michael’s throat got a little lumpy with pride, but he swallowed it.
“Thanks, Jack. I really needed to hear that today.”
Jack studied his face. “Oh, yeah? Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me anytime.”
“Sure,” Michael said, though he had no intention of talking to Jack about his love life or lack thereof. At this point, all he could do would be to whine about not being able to meet the right guy, and given the people with real problems that they both dealt with day to day, that was just pathetic. “So. Do you want to go over your outline?”
W HEN M ICHAEL opened the door of his apartment, Lem Peterson looked as if he was on the verge of expiring from mortification. His milky blue eyes dropped immediately to stare at his shoes, and his round face went an alarming shade of tomato pink. He looked seconds away from fleeing, and Michael steeled himself to prevent that at any cost. He’d just have to be the sweetest, most innocuous little damn ray of sunshine Lem Peterson had ever seen.
“Mr. Peterson? It’s so lovely to meet you. Please come in. It’s drafty in the hall, isn’t it?”
Michael’s apartment was on Capitol Hill, Seattle’s gay neighborhood, and it was in a converted old house. Michael loved the high ceilings and 1900s moldings, but it was a bit cold. Nevertheless, the nudge was meant more to give Mr. Peterson a good reason to step inside. Thankfully, he did.
“I…,” Mr. Peterson said, before his throat apparently closed up. He was still looking at his shoes.
“Do you like hot tea? I made a nice pot of chamomile. But I can also make you a cup of coffee if you prefer.”
Choices. Give the man something to agree to.
“Tea is fine. I like tea. Thank you,” Mr. Peterson said in a very soft voice. He dared a glance at Michael’s face before blushing harder and looking down again.
Well, that was progress.
“Good. I’ll go get the tea. You can toss your coat on that chair and take a seat
Similar Books
