Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He could have dealt with the verbal abuse and even the occasional punch, but it’d escalated to threaten their lives. Connelly would never put his partner in that situation ever again.
“And?” Raoul asked. “What happened?”
Scowling at nothing in particular, Connelly said, “He thought I was straight.”
Raoul laughed, the sound boisterous and loud enough to make Connelly elbow him in the ribs.
“It’s not that funny, asshole.”
“Your face,” Raoul gasped between chuckles. “Oh man, you looked so offended.”
“Dude, it is offensive. Who would want to be straight if they didn’t have to be? That’s so boring.”
“Right on, my man. You own it.” His partner clasped him on the back before opening the door and stepping inside. “You did correct him, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.” Remembering Azariah’s reaction from the day before, Connelly’s blood heated. The way those deep gray eyes had filled with interest and those full lips had parted on a sigh had been two of the sexiest things Connelly had ever seen.
Oblivious to Connelly’s internal thoughts, Raoul said, “Great. Step one, complete.”
As usual the restaurant was crowded with the afternoon business crowd. The warm Italian decor was muted in the bright August sunlight streaming through the large glass windows. Rich scents filled the air and intensified each time a server passed through the kitchen doors. Altogether it created a homey atmosphere that set Connelly at ease. His family wasn’t Italian, but this place reminded him of his grandparents for some reason.
“In all seriousness, my brother, you need to bite that bullet and take a chance. I’m sick of soggy fries and I know the only reason you keep coming here is because of a certain not-so-tall waif. Or is it twink? Whatever you gay guys call those slender ones.”
“He’s not my type.” He’d always stuck with guys who could pass as straight.
“Wow, the Boy Scout is lying and practically right to my face.”
Instead of waiting in line to be seated like they usually did, Raoul approached the hostess and whispered in her ear. Connelly cringed.
“What did you do?” Connelly asked when Raoul returned with a shit-eating grin spread across his face.
“Calm down, I just asked if Azariah was working this afternoon.”
Connelly’s stomach clenched. He hated to admit it was from excitement. “And?” He couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice.
Raoul gave him a look that said What happened to not being your type? “He is. And before you get all worked up, I asked to be seated in his section too.”
“Christ, man.” Not good. So not good. Fuck, why’d he come back here? It would have been easy enough to tell Raoul that Azariah had turned him down or to convince him to try a new restaurant.
Now what the hell was he going to do?
“I figured if you were going to act like we were in high school again, I might as well join the party. I might even write Will you go out with my partner? Yes or no? on one of our napkins.”
“The fuck you will,” Connelly grumbled.
“Okay, I won’t. As long as you man up and do it yourself.”
Connelly didn’t have a chance to reply before a smirking hostess gestured for them to follow. She seated them at one of the window booths and gave them their menus. He didn’t look at it, he just stared out the window and racked his brain for any excuse to leave.
For once he actually wished his sister would call with another non-emergency emergency. At least that way he could escape this god-awful situation with a little dignity. But luck was not on his side today. Not only did he have to figure out a way to subtly apologize to Azariah for his behavior yesterday without giving him mixed signals, but he also had to do it while keeping Raoul in the dark.
Not an easy task considering his best friend also happened to be a very good detective.
* * *
“Z, you were just requested by a beautiful black man, is there something you forgot to tell us?” Cindy, the hostess for the afternoon, wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I want all the deets because my, oh my, that big chocolate brother is fine as hell.”
“Didn’t we tell you to take your meds today? You’re imagining things again.” Z picked up the plates for table three and turned to her.
“Okay, you want to play coy. I see how it is.”
“I’m not playing, sweetheart. I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
Cindy grabbed his elbow and dragged him to the little circular windows. “Table four. You can’t tell me you don’t know him because he asked for you by name.”
Holy shit.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected to see the pair again after what happened yesterday. And now they’d purposefully sat in his section?
“The black guy asked for me?” Not Hot Fudge but his partner?