Page 61 of Love in Mission City
Or anything.
I fingered the most expensive option. The smooth surface appealed to my aesthetic, but did I want that much shine? If the lighting hit it the wrong way, it wouldn’t reflect well. With that in mind, I moved to the placement of the light fixtures and started to do some calculations.
Orlando breezed into the room. “I almost forgot that I’d placed a pickup order with Fifties. Burger for me and breaded shrimp for you. Personally, I’m not sold on little fishy things with tails, but I made sure they gave you extra sauce this time. And Sarabeth said the fries were super fresh and to eat everything right away. By the way? That kiss? Totally welcome. You didn't cross any lines with me. And if you want to do it again, I'll be willing."
Then, as if he hadn’t just turned my world on its axis, he cleared a space and started sorting through his burger, my shrimp, our fries, and the milkshakes that Fifties was famous for. Ordinary chocolate for me and unicorn something for him.
He’d once commented when I told him that we were not just LGBTQ friendly, but that I was gay, "Great! I don't have to worry about people realizing I'm gay."
I couldn’t help wondering how that young man could ever think people didn't take one look at him and realise that God painted a rainbow on his ass at birth. I tried very hard not to stereotype, especially in my business, but… Yeah, I wasn’t even a smidge surprised Orlando was one-hundred percent gay. As I sipped my milkshake, I remembered our late-night conversationabout the spectrum. Although I tended toward gay, I’d had a couple of girlfriends in high school.
Not Orlando. He’d been giving blow jobs to football players by the time he hit high school. He could find a woman attractive, but he’d never be attracted to her. For me, once I’d met George, I’d found my person. My soulmate. The one for me.
Unfortunately, after a number of years of marriage, I’d discovered he didn’t feel the same way.
“Are you okay?” Orlando held his burger up, clearly about to take a bite. “You’re not worried about a sexual-harassment suit, are you? Because, I promise you, I’d never do that, and—”
“Well, I wasn’t…until you brought it up.” I snapped my response, then I eyed my shrimp, feeling a little queasy.
Orlando placed a hand over mine—an uncharacteristic gesture for him. We didn’t touch. Not only was it terribly inappropriate, but that wasn’t who I was. A fact which George reminded me of often. One of his many complaints was that I wasn’t affectionate enough. I didn’t demonstrate my feelings—if I even had them.
Which was absurd, of course. I had feelings. I’d teared up when Simone dropped Paisley into my arms for the first time. Part of those tears were terror, but I’d felt…something. I’d felt connected to my niece—and my nephew, when I’d switched—but that connection wasn’t enough to make me want a child of my own. I didn’t have that driving need to mix my genes with someone else’s. To have someone else to be responsible for. Marriage was one thing. Apparently, something I was bad at, no less. But that didn’t rival the lifelong commitment and responsibility if I’d had a child.
Yet another point of contention between my ex-husband and myself.
Orlando squeezed my hand. “Those are pretty deep thoughts. Care to share?”
Slowly—reluctantly—I pulled my hand back. I didn’t want him to feel my sweaty palm. Or my racing heart. Basically, I didn’t want him to know how attractive I found him. Had from the first day Simone had swept into my office and introduced me to my new designer. Slash office manager. Slash receptionist.
Slash cutest guy I’d seen in a really, really, really long time. Something about him had kicked my libido into gear in a way no one had since George. And that was George before our marriage started to crumble. So, like, more than ten years. George’s wariness when around Orlando had confused me at first. Until I’d realized my ex could see what my assistant, apparently could not—my attraction to him.
I was surprised to find I’d eaten most of my shrimp, dunked in the cocktail sauce that I loved so much.
Orlando had also consumed most of his burger, all of his fries and, apparently, a good portion of his milkshake.
For such a slender guy, he was sure able to eat a lot. I liked his trim physique. So different from George and me—taller and bulkier. My ex, with his construction background, was a wall of solid everything. I did more cardio with less emphasis on weights. I was tall and broad, though. And I didn’t have a preference in the looks department for my partners. Willing came to mind. When I’d been married to George, I’d happily admired muscles. Now I was making out with Orlando, slender and lithe worked just fine.
“You’re staring.” He wiped his fingers on his napkin. We kept cloth ones in the office so we weren’t using up paper ones. “I have some scanning to do. Stuff to send to Xena. Have you made a decision about the cupboards?”
I cocked my head. “You want me to make a decision?” I’d always just okayed whatever Simone chose. I trusted her. I focused on floor plans, ceiling heights, and common spaces. She did the design work. That was how we rolled. “Okay, let me lookover what you’ve got. You send the documents, and then we’ll regroup.”
He nodded, scooped up a pile of papers, gave me a long, level look, winked, and then left the room, wiggling his ass as he went.
My cock stiffened to full attention.
Jesus fucking Christ, he’s going to be the death of me.
Yeah, but what a way to go.
Chapter Six
Orlando
Shit. Damn. Cocksu—
Nope. I found that one insulting. Tempting…but insulting. One day I’d witnessed a car accident. A guy had stopped for some Canada geese crossing the road. The guy behind him had rear-ended him. Hard. The geese had scattered. The first guy got out of his car and hurled the insult. Then started in on the guy’s ethnicity. I figured the insurance company wouldn’t need my statement and, unfortunately, the fault was clear. Even if some driver stops short in the middle of the road, you’re not allowed to plow into him.
I left—slightly scarred and planning to never use any of those words again.
