Page 29 of Sub Mission

His head popped up. “Bullshit!” He shook his head. “Oh, man. You’re in so much trouble. My characters are totally going to kick your character’s asses!”

“Impossible. My characters have an entire section of an amusement park designed after them. I’ve never ridden a mortal instrument roller coaster before.”

We bickered back and forth a few more minutes, stopping only when the doorbell acted the referee ringing the bell for us to go to separate corners. It was fun bickering, though. Even exhausted, Baker was funny and animated when he talked. I went to answer the door, fixed our plates, and by the time I returned to the balcony, Baker had gotten out of the hot tub, found a robe, and was sitting at the intimate dinette set in the center of the balcony. He looked relaxed and completely at ease.

“Chinese?” he asked hopefully.

“Anything for my Screamer,” I answered playfully. I sat a plate in front of him, piled high with a mixture of everything I’d ordered, and he started digging in immediately. After sitting my own plate on the table, I put our bottles of water on the table.

He frowned immediately. “You’re going to drown me with all this water, Seth. I like soda. I know they stocked the refrigerator with my sodas. Food doesn’t taste nearly as good with water.” He looked up and fluttered his eyelashes at me. “It’s scientifically proven—you can drown from drinking too much water, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t anywhere close to drowning in water, Baker. Do you want a soda? They aren’t healthy but if you want one, I’ll go grab it.” When he started shaking his head up and down immediately, I held my hand up to stop him. “But, if you drink the soda now, you don’t get wine with our meal tonight. What’s it going to be? Your choice.”

His frown deepened. “You said you were grilling steaks, right?”

“Correct.”

“How many glasses of wine do I get with my steak?”

Smiling, I answered, “As many as you want, Tart.”

“Hey! What happened to Sweet Tart? Are you implying that I’m only being Tart right now?”

“Correct, again. You’re on fire today!”

“So are you,” he countered dryly. “At being an ass, of course.” He studied the dilemma in front of him and finally answered, “I’ll hold out for the wine, but I get several glasses.”

“You’ll get what I give you,” I answered and was delighted when his eyes darkened with arousal.

“Okay, bossy ass,” he conceded. “Back to the question game. I’ve got lots more to learn about you, so I can hold shit over you and bend you to my will.”

“Eat first. Chat online with some of your fans from Javier’s club next—just to keep the fire stoked for our perp. Questions…the rest of the evening. Deal?”

“Questions and alcohol?”

“Questions and alcohol,” I conceded.

“Deal.”

Baker Daley was going to break my heart.

*******

Baker

“The Dark Room? This is where you planned our dance club date?” I asked in disbelief as we sat in the car outside the building. It wasn’t likeThe Dark Roomwasn’t a nice enough club, it was probably one of the hippest clubs in Miami. The reviews were off the charts good and there were Instagram pics of celebrities partying in the posh venue all the time. I’d always promised myself I’d go if the opportunity ever presented itself. Well, here it was—presenting itself.

It just wasn’t the night I’d planned in my head.

“Yes,” he answered. “It’s one of the most popular clubs in the Miami area. Landon had to call in a lot of favors to ensure we’d be able to get inside. Obviously, he didn’t have faith in our abilities to charm the doorman with our awesome good looks. Weird.” He turned to look at me and his teasing smile faded. “What’s wrong? Did you have another club in mind? I probably should have asked you instead of assuming this one would be acceptable.”

“No! No. It’s not that,” I quickly amended. How did I tell him I’d thought we would go to a gay club? Just blurt it out? Dance all around it and hope he picked up on my signals? Forget it and go into the club he’d chosen?

“What is it then, Baker?” he asked calmly.

How could he be so calm when my heart pounded ninety miles an hour?

Taking the cowards’ way out, I said, “I just figured we’d go to a gay club. You know…since you’re gay.” Those were the words that tumbled out of my mouth. Inside my head, it sounded more like ‘since you’re gay and I’m clearly bisexual, at the least’.

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