Page 51 of Finding Noah
Eventually he’d contact them. He could be dutiful. He could also be stubborn.
Case in point—his having decided he was in love with me.
I couldn’t dissuade him. Couldn’t cajole him. Couldn’t do anything to veer him off this course of action.
Admittedly, I wasn’t trying very hard. Regular hand jobs, blow jobs, and sleeping together? Pretty fucking sweet. Especially the no-strings part.
Of course there are strings. There are always strings. You’re using him and that’s bad. The time will come when you’ll have to pay the piper.
Sure…but that was something I could worry about down the road.
As I directed Christian to drive to the homes of my new clients, I caught a glimpse of his profile. Strong jaw, high cheekbones. Eyes the color of dark moss. Objectively, the guy was damn handsome. And not once, in the last twenty years, had I thought he might be gay or that he might be interested in me romantically. I’d just never gone there. Had never had to because he was always by my side.
In all these years, we’d never had a true fight. We’d disagreed on a few things during the intervening time, but never anything major. Never anything that couldn’t be easily remedied with a serious conversation and a meeting of the minds.
Until Leroy.
I’m glad he took the pictures. Even though that was illegal. I’m grateful he cared enough to get me out of that toxic relationship.Only now could I admit that Leroy hadn’t been treating me all that well. And, because of my low self-esteem, I hadn’t thought to demand more. Hell, I hadn’t demanded monogamy because I’d understood that to be a given.
More fool me.
“I saidis that all the houses? Are you okay?” Christian had parked us on the side of the road and was gazing at me.
“I’m sorry.”
His brow furrowed. “For what? I’m happy to drive you around so you’ll know what the houses—”
“I’m sorry I got mad about you taking the photos.”
“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “Know that I didn’t want to. I honestly felt I had no other choice.”
“How did you know?” That point had been niggling at me for a while.
“One day you told me he was working, but I saw his car in the parking lot of your building. I swear I wasn’t snooping. I’d gone out to buy ice cream treats for everyone in the office and on my way back, I spotted Leroy’s car.” He rubbed his face. “I risked the ice cream melting, but I parked and went to your apartment. Remember you gave me the spare key?”
“You didn’t go in.” My chest seized.
“Nope. But I used the building key to get me to your place and then I knocked really loudly.”
“Oh.” This didn’t sound like the mild-mannered Christian I knew. “And?”
“He shouted to just leave the parcel.”
“What parcel?”
“That was my thought. I knocked again and said something about having left my phone at your place and needing it.”
“You’d never—”
“Yeah, but you think he’d know that? He always looked down on me.”
That stung…because I hadn’t realized.
“He opened the door in his jeans—unzipped—and said he didn’t have a clue, hadn’t seen it, now wasn’t a good time, and could I come back later?”
“Oh.” I stared out the windshield. I had a vaguely uneasy feeling we might be watched. And that I was a Black man in a nice SUV. Having Christian at the wheel alleviated some of my concern—but not all of it. “Maybe we can head back?”
“Sure.” He started the SUV and pulled back onto the road.
