Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMIL
“Hey, you. Thanks for joining me for dinner,” I said when Anders showed up on the doorstep of the main house.
I’d seen him when I pulled in. He’d been sitting on the front porch with his laptop open and a stack of files beside him. I didn’t love that he hadn’t followed my instruction about not working on the weekends, but I understood why he’d done it. He didn’t have anything else to occupy his time.
After tonight, I hoped I could change that.
“Thanks for having me over for dinner,” Anders said as he stepped across the threshold.
“You’re always welcome.”
He stood there, looking fresh from the shower—he must have taken it quickly—with his wet hair plaited into a French braid. He was dressed casually in joggers, vans, and an ancient Rainier’s College sweatshirt. He’d never looked better or hotter or sexier.
I’d promised myself I’d go as slow as he needed me to go, but when he was fresh from the shower and smelled liked coconut, it was hard to keep my focus where it should be. Anders deserved more. I’m not sure when I’d crossed the line from curiosity into need, but I was firmly in that camp now.
“Can I ask about your meeting, or is that private?” Anders’s tone was hesitant but polite.
Something about the way he held himself made me suspect the phrasing carried more weight than it should.
I suspected John had continuously moved the goalposts with Anders, so he’d never known where he stood.
If I was right, it would’ve been exhausting.
Always on edge, never right, but always trying.
“You can ask me about anything you want. If I can tell you, I will. And it was…interesting. There are still some threads that need to be cleaned up, but I’m getting a better picture of what is happening with the firm.”
I ushered Anders into the kitchen. He immediately moved to the sink to wash his hands and then over to where I was unpacking our dinner from the takeout bags. I was torn on whether or not to intervene.
Now that I’d figured out his orientation toward service, I knew it was something significant to him.
But on the other hand, everyone deserved a break.
Everyone deserved rest. And he shouldn’t have expectations placed on him every minute of every day.
Just because he was around someone didn’t mean he needed to work for their attention or their appreciation.
“Hey, now. You’re stealing my job. You’re supposed to be off duty tonight,” I said. I tried to keep my voice as friendly as possible while also making it clear that I wasn’t kidding. He was off the clock tonight.
“Well, I was just trying to be helpful. It’s hard to make sure everything gets out at the same time when you only have two hands.”
I drew Anders from where he stood next to the island over to the counter and gently pushed him onto the stool that lived there.
“And, I promise, I’ve got this handled.”
“Yeah, of course you do. I just…you know…don’t want you to have to do all the work. I can help too. You shouldn’t be serving me.”
“Why not?” I was genuinely curious what he’d say. Unsurprisingly, Anders deflected the question.
“Don’t you wish you had someone to pick up the slack?”
“I’ll answer your question when you answer mine.”
“It’s not your job.”
“It’s not yours either.” I realized that I might be pushing too hard on Anders, and I couldn’t articulate the payoff.
And I felt kind of like an asshole. For the sake of my own ego, I wasn’t letting him do the thing that made him feel settled and safe.
“Would you put together the salad while I finish the pasta?”
Anders’s brilliant smile told me I’d made the correct call.
We settled into our roles. Anders chopped some veggies for the salad, and I worked on the garlic bread and pasta.
When everything was ready, I carried the plates to the table.
As was his habit, Anders handed me my napkin and utensils, then waited until I’d started eating before digging into his own food.
“How was the book club?”
“Oh, it was good. Micah and his friend…Bennett…Bailey… No, that’s not it…”
“Beckett?”
“Yes, thank you, that’s it. He’s an interesting guy.” Heh, Anders was being unfailingly polite. “But nice. Very quiet.”
“Yeah, he and Micah are pretty tight. Beckett is married to a social worker, Will, who works at the hospital. He’s a police officer here.”
“Yeah, Micah mentioned that. I think he’s just shy. He tried to make some small talk, though, after we got to the library, and I think it took a lot for him to try.”
“I don’t know him well, but he seems all right.”
“Yeah, I thought so too. Turns out it’s a small world because my friend is painting their new nursery. And they hired Owen because it turns out Beckett is Reed’s cousin. Isn’t that wild?”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding.”
Before I could set myself down a road I had no business pushing Ander down, I decided to change the subject. Quickly.
“I’m assuming they brought a book with them. What did you read?”
Watching Anders come to life was a damn good time. When he relaxed, he was animated and expressive. I wanted more of it.
“The librarian helped me find something since I hadn’t kept up with any new books lately. I was a little surprised at how wide their queer author selection was, but it was a happy surprise.”
“What did you end up picking?”
Anders’s cheeks pinkened. He fussed with his napkin and rearranged his fork and knife.
“It’s just a silly book.”
“Okay. So what was it?”
This time, he rearranged the garlic bread around his plate. I was invested now.
“Trailer Park Twink.” The embarrassment was evident.
“By Lance Lansdale?”
“Uh, yeah. How do you know that?”
“My sister is obsessed with romance novels. She loves him.”
“Oh.” Anders paused, then offered, “A lot of people say romance is dumb and practically porn.”
“A lot of people can keep their opinions to themselves about what other people read and shut their mouths about what other people enjoy while they’re at it.” I knew who other people were, and John could fuck right off.
“Oh, I did have some luck on the art front before I skipped out.” Anders sounded so pleased with himself that I kicked myself for not asking about it.
“I can’t wait to hear about it.”
Anders settled in for his story about the art galleries he’d visited and the strengths of each. His focus on the main house was clear.
“What about for the cottage?” I asked.
“I didn’t find any artwork, but I found a little statue. It’s not really anything special, but I liked it.” Anders looked embarrassed, which I thought was a little odd.
“What is it?”
“It was in one of the antique stores I stopped in. It’s not fancy, but it’s a brass-plated bouquet of flowers. It’s cute.”
“Are you a fan of getting flowers?” I worked hard to sound casual, but I was damn sure clocking the answer.
“I guess.” Anders looked evasive.
“What do you mean?”
“If someone sent me flowers, I’m sure I’d like it, but I’ve always bought my own.”
“I see.”
“Thanks for helping me clean up.”
After we’d finished dinner, Anders stood, cleared the table, and began doing the dishes. He looked happy and content, but I wasn’t to the point where I knew how much was too much, so I’d joined in on the fringes. He’d given me minimal instruction, usually in the direction of doing less.
“I’m happy to do it.”
“Any plans for the rest of the evening…and don’t say work on files because that’s on the not-allowed list.” I softened my statement with a grin and a friendly hip bump, but I knew the firmness in my voice came through too when Anders looked a little guilty.
“Uh…finish my book, I guess. But I was planning on saving that for book club.”
“In that case, can I show you something?”
Anders nodded. Everything felt soft and intimate today, and the need to feel Anders and keep him close was overwhelming. I captured his hand and led him toward the back of the house.
So far, he’d confined himself to mostly public areas of the house, with the exception of knocking on my bedroom door every morning to let me know coffee and breakfast were ready. He hadn’t spent much time in my office or any in the adjacent workroom. I wanted to share all parts of me with Anders.
I opened the door with more flourish than required, but Anders chuckled at my silliness. He was the only person, with the possible exception of my sister Lila, who’d seen this part of me. She saw it by default, growing up in the same house. He saw it because I wanted Anders to see all of me.
“Whoa. This wasn’t what I expected.”
The awe in his voice settled in my chest. The room had houses and scenes in various stages of completion.
I had standard dollhouses, but also cabins, restaurants, bookstores, and even a few woodland scenes.
My fabrication area was on the far side of the cavernous room, well away from the painting station.
My sitting area, with stacks of reference books for period inspiration, was near the window.
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Neither? Both? I’m not sure. I expected something much less grand, not Santa’s workshop.”
Anders looked to me for permission to walk around, which I gave immediately. He leaned close and took the time to study the models.
“There’s so much detail in your work.”
“Thanks. The period pieces are my favorites, so I try to get the details right.”
Anders nodded toward my stack of reference materials and said, “That’s a lot of research.”
“Yeah, and I get so annoyed at myself when I get it wrong.”
“What do you do with them when you’re done?”
“Give them away. Donate. Take them apart and start again if they aren’t right.” I shrugged.
“I can’t imagine having so much dedication to a hobby. How do you find the time with your work?” Anders moved on to a woodland scene. It was one I was in the process of putting together, a felted chipmunk who lived inside a tree section. “But you already know I don’t have any hobbies.”