Page 41 of Honorable Convictions
Mitchell shook the wet hand of the still-nervous Mr. Mexicanum and waved cheerfully after him as he headed for the exit. Pivoting to his right, he grinned at Pierson, who’d already gotten rid of Mr. Loire. They only had a few minutes, but there was no way Mitchell would pass up an opportunity to talk to his mate.
“Hey, Blondie.”
“Brooks.”
Leaning in to whisper in his ear, Mitchell drew in the welcoming scent of peppermint. “I’d really love to kiss you right now.”
Pierson’s head whipped back, and he scowled. “Not right now.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” Mitchell taunted with a grin.
With a roll of his eyes, Pierson grabbed his bag. “I’ll see you later.”
“Count on it,” Mitchell called out after his quickly retreating mate. In the week since Pierson had essentially greenlighted the quest Mitchell had started months ago, they’d squeezed in quality time to talk and make out each evening. Already greedy but wary of startling his cautious other half, Mitchell promised himself he’d burn the midnight oil to get to Pierson’s condo early enough for a home-cooked meal the next day since it was supposedly his weekend. Pierson had confessed that making meals was a hobby of his, and Mitchell was desperate to learn everything about him.
Dreading the idea of missing the smile of delight Pierson wore when he was doing anything that made him happy, Mitchell had already thrown all he had into the shaky new foundation. There was no guarantee that they’d complete their matebond, but he was fueled by Pierson’s dream, and Mitchell had imagined that same world where they’d become friends instead of adversaries. Lovers rather than combatants. The very thought tantalized him, and Mitchell wasn’t worried about heartbreak or anything else. Mitchell trusted Fate and the connection always just beyond his reach, but there was nothing wrong with needing Pierson. Whether he realized it or not, Pierson was everything Mitchell wanted in a mate, and he never settled for second best.
Chapter 22
The text from Mitchell asking Pierson if he could join him for dinner was a no-brainer to answer in the affirmative. It’d give him more time with the man he was trying to get to know without fear and availed Pierson with the opportunity to cook for him. Picking up his new book, he selected an easy but tempting recipe with a different spice combination than he’d tried before. It required a quick trip to the store, but Pierson was happy to set aside his work to do so. In his kitchen, he was busy peeling potatoes that would make a great complement to the filet mignon he was serving with a red wine sauce. To round out his meal, he’d found some rainbow carrots and already had the table set when the doorbell rang.
After dropping the last potato into the bowl of water to keep them from browning, Pierson dried off his hands and raced through his tiny apartment to let Mitchell in. “Hey,” he offered, trying to sound nonchalant but undoubtedly giving away his awkwardness.
“Hello, Blondie,” Mitchell replied with a killer smile that Pierson could now acknowledge had always made him a bit weak in the knees. Wrapping his fingers around Pierson’s waist, he stepped over the threshold and the door swung closed. Their lips met and Pierson wanted to demand better than a gentle peck, but he had their meal to prepare.
“Come into the kitchen; I need to get the potatoes started.”
“Can I help with anything?” Mitchell asked.
“Nope, you’re an observer only.”
Picking up a knife, Pierson efficiently quartered them and threw them into the pot with water. As he waited for it to boil, he stuck milk and butter into another pot to soften it. The bottle of red wine was opened, and he poured some into the waiting saucepan along with some beef stock. “Want a glass?”
“Sure,” Mitchell answered. Pierson grabbed two goblets, filled them halfway, and handed one to Mitchell. When he lifted it to take a sip, Mitchell shook his head. “We have to make a toast before you guzzle that.”
“Fine, what do you want to drink to?”
“A promising future.”
Pierson had to break eye contact, so he stared at the counter as his smile formed. “I’ll drink to that,” he replied softly, and they clinked glasses while he murmured the words he hoped boded well for them. Pierson didn’t have any idea what was in store for them, and he wouldn’t allow himself to consider it. Shoving away his fears, he stayed in the moment. After taking a drink, he set his goblet down and returned to meal preparations.
“So, what are we eating?” Mitchell asked, leaning against the wall where the cabinets ended.
His oven already heating, Pierson turned on the faucet and vigorously washed the carrots. “Steak, potatoes, and carrots,” Pierson answered, deftly drying the vegetable in question.
“Sounds delicious. What did you do to enjoy your Saturday?”
After laying his carrots out on a cookie sheet, he drizzled them with olive oil and sprinkled salt. Pierson’s gaze hit Mitchell’s, and his belly flopped at the ardor in his blue eyes. “I’m a fallen knight, Brooks. I worked.”
“I wasn’t sure you had enough to keep you busy on the weekend.”
Putting the sheet in the oven, he set a timer. “The liaison project always provides me with work. A thought occurred to me today that I wanted to run by you.”
“About the project?”
With paper towels, Pierson dried his filets. “I guess it’s more of a general Juris question as the liaison position is a temporary one. As soon as I finish the requirements, I could potentially be done. I’m hoping to be able to do the training from office to office, but there’s no guarantee. In any event, at some point it’ll be over.”
“That’s not true. Requirements are not a permanent thing. They’ll change and morph depending on what we learn as Juris and what improvements the other fallen knights might stumble upon. Every year there are new recruits added, and they’ll need to be trained as well. And, of course, you’ll be the one chosen.”
