Page 3 of Candy Hearts
William’s lips curled up slowly, and it was like the sun coming out from behind clouds. It was angels singing and trumpets blaring. It was unicorns and fucking rainbows. When frowning, William was handsome. That crooked smile made him burn-your-panties-off hot.
“Candy sounds great. And not in a transactional-sex kind of way. Also, I am queer.”
“Oh, good.”
Oh, good?Fuck, this was getting awkward.
Well, awkwarder.
“Yeah, good. Why don’t I show you to your room?” William reached down and picked up Benji’s duffle bag, chivalrous all of a sudden, which appealed to Benji in a weird, deep-seated way.
He followed William up two flights of stairs to an attic bedroom. He wasn’t thrilled by the unplanned exercise—climbing stairs was for suckers—but watching William’s butt in those flannel pajama bottoms as he took each step made the hike worth it. Benji wished he could get a better read on him. William was either a still-water-runs-deep guy or boring as fuck.
“Figured I’d give you the best room—first dibs, you know? Is that okay? You’re the only one on this floor. Plus, it has the wood stove to keep you warm tonight.”
“That’s fine.”
The room had a sharply sloped cedar-plank ceiling, a decadent bed covered in pillows, a wood-burning stove in one corner, and an en suite bathroom. But the best feature was the floor-to-ceiling windows and glass sliding door covering the entire A-shaped wall. The door led to a small balcony. Light filtered in through the wall of glass, brightening the room. The frozen water in the middle of the lake was visible, darkening as it melted close to the shoreline.
A room with a view.
This was a freaking master suite.
“How many bedrooms are there?”
“Four. I mean, five.”
“Wow. That’s a lot.”
William shrugged, almost self-conscious, which was silly. If Benji owned a weird house with a pink door on an ugly lake, he’d flaunt the fuck out of it.
“Where’s your room?” Benji asked next.
“It’s on the ground floor off the kitchen. The other three are on the second floor. Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair while you settle in.” William dropped the duffle bag, and it thumped loudly when it hit the ground, making them both jump. “What’s in that thing?”
Benji swallowed hard. “Sex toys and lingerie, mostly.”
Chapter Two
Sex toys and lingerie.The words crash-landed in William’s brain. His tongue was too big for his mouth.
“Cool. Later,” he mumbled, shutting the door and safely putting a bit of distance between him and Benji Holiday.
His lips were all tingly, and his ears were hot. Was this a stroke? Was he old enough to have a stroke? He’d smell toast if it was a stroke, right?
He’d felt like he’d been hit on the head with a cast-iron skillet when he’d opened the front door to reveal Benji on the porch. Benji with his acres of muscles, his pretty-boy face, his lack of brain-to-mouth filter, and his overalls.
William found him undeniably appealing.
But he was absolutely blowing it. He was normally totally in control, perfectly put together, completely composed.
And now he was in pajamas, for God’s sake!
He jogged down the stairs and straight into his office to change into regular clothes only to be pulled up short by the pitch-blackness of the room. There was one tiny window, and it was covered by a heavy curtain. He fumbled his phone out and used some of its precious battery to turn on the flashlight.
While he was getting dressed, he heard Benji come down the stairs, so William rushed back into the kitchen to grab the dating criteria he’d been filling out when Benji had appeared. He hadn’t been anticipating an interruption to his patheticness. William had had nothing better to do, stranded here alone with no power. Originally, he’d been planning to get work done—the Post-Valentine’s Day Bachelorian Auction at Mount wasn’t going to organize itself—but his computer had no charge.
His New Year’s resolution this year had been to give this romance thing a genuine shot. In the past several years he hadn’t had the emotional bandwidth to nurture a relationship and a burgeoning career. It hadn’t been fair to other people to try. So he hadn’t tried, living instead on the occasional hookup with acquaintances. His friendships had suffered too. He wouldn’t be the owner of three successful nightclubs if he hadn’t made compromises. His biggest compromise had been his social life.
