Chapter Five
The sun shone brighter. Fabrice caught himself smiling like a fool for the hundredth time.
Even though Kirkland and he never moved past kissing, Fabrice had the time of his life.
His lips still tingled, and Kirkland had gone back to his room hours ago.
There were no words to describe how much he wanted whatever grew between them.
He just genuinely liked Kirkland. Fabrice wanted more.
“Don’t you check your messages any longer? Or are you angry with me?”
Tidy’s sudden appearance startled Fabrice out of daydreaming.
“Oh.” He felt a bit ridiculous about his jealousy now.
Fabrice knew Tidy would never hurt him like that.
He should have checked his texts. Tidy knew how much Fabrice liked Kirkland.
They were friends. “Sorry about that. I guess my head has been a bit in the clouds.” He chuckled.
“You know, I even forgot my phone existed. You’re here, though. Tell me what I missed.”
Tidy wore a shit-eating grin. “Dude, I sent you so many pictures. Kirkland was so uncomfortable at Alonge. All for you, of course. I’ve been dying to hear what happened.
I mean, like, wow. Before yesterday, I’m pretty sure he hated my guts, but he came to me because he likes you that much. You have to tell me everything.”
Fabrice was so moved, he could have cried. “We kissed.”
“Shut up.” Tidy grabbed a stool and pulled it close, giving Fabrice his full attention. “Go on.”
Heat rushed to Fabrice’s cheeks.
Tidy slapped his hands together and laughed. “Yes! Let’s hear it.”
Fabrice couldn’t stop blushing, and he didn’t know why. “That’s it, really. We talked for a while and kissed for even longer. His hands stayed respectful, unfortunately.”
“Still, that’s progress. He didn’t leave you guessing his feelings. That’s a good sign.”
Fabrice still wasn’t one hundred percent certain how Kirkland felt. He knew something was budding, but Kirkland was damn good at turning cold in a heartbeat.
Foster, Crisp, Jay, and Kirkland poured into the room. All Fabrice saw was Kirkland. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. Kirkland was smiling too. That seemed like a good sign.
Foster carried a notepad and kept his eyes locked on the bright yellow pages as he spoke. “Okay. Now that we have the most important pieces of this party together, let’s get to planning.”
Kirkland moved to stand behind Fabrice. He rested his hands on Fabrice’s shoulders and squeezed.
Fabrice drew a steady breath through his nose and released it. He fought the urge to close his eyes and focus everything he had on the sensation of Kirkland’s touch.
Crisp kissed Tidy’s cheek.
Jay did the same. “Good morning, gorgeous,” they chanted in unison.
Tidy smiled like an idiot. Crisp and Tidy had spent their lives glued at the hip. They were adorable.
Thankfully, Tidy paid attention to the situation since Fabrice hadn’t. “What party?”
Kirkland spoke up behind him, startling him a bit. He had been too focused on those hands. “Atticus’ surprise birthday party.”
Foster laughed. “He hates having birthday parties.”
That one drew Fabrice into the conversation. “Really? I would think he’d love being the center of attention.”
“Oh, he does, but birthdays are different. Those mean he’s getting older. He doesn’t love that.”
At Foster’s words, Jay joined the conversation. “How old will Atticus be this year?”
Foster never stopped scribbling in his notebook as he responded. “Thirty-seven.”
“I never would’ve guessed that. He stays in too good of shape, I guess.”
Fabrice barely heard Tidy’s admission. Do the math.
That was what Kirkland had said. He had been with Atticus for thirty-three years, since Atty was three.
Kirkland would be fifty in a few months.
A horrible picture formed in his mind. Just barely clicking pieces to an image Fabrice didn’t want to see.
A glimpse into a past he prayed wasn’t true.
Why would an adult man hire a fifteen-year-old kid to be a full-time live-in nanny?
That was crazy. What did a teenager know about taking care of a three-year-old boy twenty-four-seven?
There were very few reasons for that arrangement and none of them were good.
Kirkland squeezed his shoulders. “Are you okay with doing all that cooking for the party?”
Fabrice hadn’t heard a word anyone said.
“Of course.” Fuck, he had no clue what he had agreed to do.
But if it involved using his kitchen, he was up for the challenge.
He reached up and put his hand over Kirkland’s.
He was so incredibly sexy. Fabrice imagined he had been devastatingly gorgeous as a younger man.
No wonder he played the old man. He didn’t want to be seen.
Kirkland waited until everyone cleared the kitchen before he kissed Fabrice’s nape. The moment he had walked into the room and saw Fabrice’s welcoming smile, Kirkland had been counting the seconds until they were alone.
“Good morning.” Fabrice turned. There was something behind his eyes. Kirkland fought the urge to shut down and run.
“You don’t look happy to have me here.” Communication. That was where he needed to start.
Fabrice’s eyes softened. “Of course I’m thrilled to have you in my company. I just got lost in my head over the amount of work this party will be.”
Kirkland nodded. He could see that. They were expecting quite a bit from him for a midday party that would last well into the night. “Don’t stress. Not only do you have me for extra hands, but as Foster said, he’s bringing in extra help from California. You won’t be handling this alone.”
“What day are we doing this again?”
Kirkland got it. Foster had fed him a lot of information at once. “Not this Saturday, but next.”
Fabrice nodded along. “We’ve got this. How did you sleep last night?”
He hated to be honest, but truth was all he wanted between them. “Not well.”
The concerned expression that overcame Fabrice’s face warmed his chest. “Why not? Is everything all right?”
How was he supposed to resist this beautiful man? Kirkland chuckled. “Everything is perfect. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Fabrice visibly melted. “Oh. Same. I mean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not that I couldn’t stop thinking of myself. That would be crazy, and I’m not. Crazy, that is.”
The nervous chatter was too unlike Fabrice. Kirkland’s senses were on full alert. “Okay. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ve never made you nervous before.”
Fabrice’s face fell. He looked upset. “Foster was talking about Atticus’ birthday and I did the math.”
“Oh.” Everything inside Kirkland jumped behind the wall he had built to protect himself. He cleared his throat.
Fabrice’s gaze moved over Kirkland’s face. His expression was filled with pity. Kirkland hated that more than rejection.
He cleared his throat again. “I need to get started on that list Foster gave me. You likely need to prepare for lunch.”
Fabrice’s gaze never stopped inspecting him.
Kirkland couldn’t take it. “I’ll see you later.” He was in such a rush to get away, Kirkland forgot he held Fabrice’s hand.
Fabrice didn’t release him. “Are you really about to abandon me without as much as a kiss?”
Everything inside Kirkland ached. He couldn’t even look at Fabrice. “You’re in your kitchen with your staff. I don’t wish to make you look unprofessional.” Shit. His butler persona was back. Kirkland’s chest hurt.
Fabrice lured him back. “You’re right. This is my kitchen. I’m the boss and make the rules.”
Before Kirkland could protest again, Fabrice’s lips touched his.
The pressure sitting on his chest lifted.
Fabrice didn’t stop with a sweet brushing of lips.
He kissed Kirkland like he meant it. The tension seeped out of his muscles.
Fabrice released his hand and wrapped his arms around Kirkland, deepening their kiss to the point of sexual.
Kirkland was painfully hard. There wasn’t enough masturbating in the world to satiate this hunger Fabrice invoked in him.
He had found other men hot over the years.
Kirkland had enjoyed his little fantasies occasionally.
Everything about Fabrice was different. His heart was so deep into whatever they were, and his dick wanted to be even deeper.
A clearing throat broke their spell. When Kirkland pulled away, he spotted Fabrice’s sous chef waiting for Fabrice’s attention.
“Lunch will be late unless we start now, Chef.”
Fabrice glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll get on it immediately.”
Kirkland held Fabrice’s hips, stopping him from getting away. “If you don’t give me a second, I’ll be embarrassed. You have a coat to hide your erection.”
A sexy laugh rumbled from Fabrice. His eyes swam with mirth. He opened a nearby cabinet, revealing several perfectly laundered and pressed chef's coats. “Grab one. You can help with lunch.”
Kirkland didn’t hesitate. Not only was he a man who felt lost without a purpose, but Fabrice gave him the excuse he needed to stay glued to his side. That was a win in his book.