Page 47 of Spooks & Specters

Don had acted shocked when he’d found out how much Kit loved to read—andwhyhad that been such a shock? And why was the fact Kit loved epic fantasies with magic and dragons evenmoreshocking? Mother of all, Kit owned a bookstore, of course he loved books.

Who the hell didn’t like dragons?

But since he liked Don, he’d sacrificed his own comfort to make his boyfriend happy. He’d dressed down and didn’t talk about the latest book out. For a while, things had gone pretty well, or so he’d thought.

Then everything changed. The last month or so, Don had been very short-tempered. He’d even disappeared for several days and refused to tell Kit where he’d been or what he’d been doing.

The next time Kit laid eyes on Don, he’d actually been worried. His usually vibrant and energetic boyfriend appeared as if he had been through the ringer—his skin was ashen, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and there were deep bruise-like circles under his eyes.

His normally styled brown locks were greasy and unkempt, adding to the overall disheveled appearance. Andthere was an undeniable shakiness in his movements that hinted at something more going on beneath the surface.

Despite all evidence pointing to something major going on, Don adamantly denied there was a problem. And while his health might have gotten better, his temper certainly hadn’t.

And oh joy, lookie there. Brake lights. Lots and lots of brake lights. Just what Kit did not need.

ALMOST TWO hours later, Kit finally managed to pull into Don’s driveway. What was the deal with San DeLain drivers? Every last one of them needed a refresher course on how to drive during rush hour on the interstate because fuckkkkkkk.

Sighing, he got out and walked to the front door. Don rented a cute little craftsman that Kit adored. Its low-pitched roof with protruding gables and exposed beams was always so welcoming, as was the wide-open front porch and the signature thick tapered columns.

Then again, anything beat the little box called an apartment Kit lived in.

Using his key, he let himself in and was immediately inundated with the smell of cooked food. His stomach rumbled, and suddenly Kit was starving. It’d been a long time since lunch, and something certainly smelled delicious.

Kit pasted on a smile as he walked through the living area. “Hey! I’m here. Where are you at?”

“Kitchen.”

Following the sound of Don’s voice, Kit walked into the kitchen. Don was sitting at the table, eating.

Kit didn’t see another plate, though. “Sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the interstate.”

Don never looked up from his plate as he shoved food into his mouth. “It’s been two hours.”

“It was a big wreck.”

“Uh-huh. And you couldn’t call and let me know?”

“I… I didn’t think about it.” Now he felt like an ass because he really hadn’t thought about it. “Did you call? Shit, I didn’t hear my phone ring and—”

Don finally looked up. “Why should I call you when you couldn’t bother to call me?”

“And here we go,” Kit muttered, setting his purse down. He didn’t miss the glare Don shot it. According to Don, men didn’t carry purses. “Look, I’m sorry, I really didn’t think about it, and time got away from me.”

Kit wandered over and leaned down to kiss Don on the cheek, but Don turned his head away. So that’s how it was going to be?

“I was worried. You should have called.”

Kit didn’t say anything, but apparently Don hadn’t been too worried. He hadn’t called, after all. But then, neither had Kit, so what did that say about him?

“Sorry. So, what are we having for dinner?” Kit glanced around, but not only did he not see a plate set out for him, the kitchen had been cleaned up.

“Well, I’m having spaghetti.”

Kit ignored the snarky response and walked over to one of the cabinets to get a plate. “I see you’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Are leftovers in the refrigerator?”

“No. Since you couldn’t bother to let me know you were going to be late, I threw everything away.”

Whatever bad mood Kit had been battling came roaring back. Fuck this shit. “Are you fucking kidding me? You threw away perfectly good food to… what? Make a point? What are you? Ten?”

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