coincidence. He had half a mind to pull a no-show, hop back on the Orange Line, and see what the Eagle had to offer.
The thought just made him tired.
Casper stood in front of the walls of mirrors in the men’s room. He didn’t look as haggard as he felt. He leaned in, angling his face. Another splurge. However, he didn’t feel the least bit of guilt about these either. The week-old frameless glasses were worth it. The floating oval lenses brought to mind Steve Jobs, but more modern, and the tortoiseshell temples took them back to retro. Satisfied, he inspected the rest of his appearance. He smoothed out his slim-cut shirt and rolled up the sleeves over his elbows, exposing the lower half of the tattoo sleeve that covered his right arm. Raking his fingers through his brown hair, he wished he had more product. Instead of sweeping back, the thick mop leaned to one side. Whatever—it wasn’t like Brent would care. Or even notice.
Actually this was better than going to the bar. Casper was never the prettiest or most appealing man in the room. He wasn’t unattractive, but neither did he stand out. At least here, with Brent, he didn’t run the chance of getting passed over.
HE SPOTTED them easily as soon as he stepped into Savor, a table of five over by the window. Prime location. Someone had name-dropped.
The model-like girl stiffened behind the hostess stand when she saw Casper and then let loose a too-white, too-toothy smile.
He managed to keep an annoyed expression off his face. She was always so nervous around him that it put him on edge. He had no idea why. The girl towered over him; she could squish him if she needed to. “Relax, Amber. I’m the head pastry chef, not the head chef or the owner.” He motioned to where he was headed, even though he was certain she knew, and walked past her. “However, if the desserts aren’t up to par, heads will roll….” If nothing else, it was good to make a surprise visit to see if his team was consistent when he wasn’t there. Although he was willing to bet Amber would alert them to his presence. As he neared the table, he glanced back. Sure enough, the leggy redhead was nowhere to be seen.
“Casper!”
At the sound of his name, he refocused on the table where Brent stood and motioned him over.
When he was closer, Brent made a sweeping movement over the table. “Casper, this is everyone. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Casper James.”
Casper was certain his flinch was visible.
Brent gave him a quick peck on the cheek and what was intended to be a quick hug. Casper held on, angling his lips up to Brent’s ear. “Boyfriend, really ? And I don’t suppose my sudden invitation had anything to do with hoping to get the tab comped.”
Brent had the sense not to respond as they parted and didn’t meet Casper’s eyes as he sat back down.
Suddenly his boyfriend, but he doesn’t save me a seat. The tool is so not getting laid tonight. Dammit.
A larger lady who sat directly across from Brent patted the empty chair beside her. He walked around the table and took a seat. “Thanks. I’m Casper.”
“I’ve heard.” She offered her hand with a smile. “We all thought he made you up.”
Casper shook her hand and pulled himself up to the table. “Oh?”
“Yes. We’ve been hearing about the head-chef boyfriend for months now. Though you seem shorter than I’d been led to believe.” Her smile had grown mocking, but Casper didn’t think the sentiment was directed toward him. “I’m Monica, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” Casper glanced over. Brent was fully focused on the man seated next to him, not that Casper could blame him. The man was gorgeous. He returned his attention to Monica. “Not only am I short, but I’m only the head pastry chef.”
Monica’s expression was back to friendly. “That’s even better, in my opinion.” She raised her voice, drawing the attention of the other four. “All these other Nancys are too dainty to
The thought just made him tired.
Casper stood in front of the walls of mirrors in the men’s room. He didn’t look as haggard as he felt. He leaned in, angling his face. Another splurge. However, he didn’t feel the least bit of guilt about these either. The week-old frameless glasses were worth it. The floating oval lenses brought to mind Steve Jobs, but more modern, and the tortoiseshell temples took them back to retro. Satisfied, he inspected the rest of his appearance. He smoothed out his slim-cut shirt and rolled up the sleeves over his elbows, exposing the lower half of the tattoo sleeve that covered his right arm. Raking his fingers through his brown hair, he wished he had more product. Instead of sweeping back, the thick mop leaned to one side. Whatever—it wasn’t like Brent would care. Or even notice.
Actually this was better than going to the bar. Casper was never the prettiest or most appealing man in the room. He wasn’t unattractive, but neither did he stand out. At least here, with Brent, he didn’t run the chance of getting passed over.
HE SPOTTED them easily as soon as he stepped into Savor, a table of five over by the window. Prime location. Someone had name-dropped.
The model-like girl stiffened behind the hostess stand when she saw Casper and then let loose a too-white, too-toothy smile.
He managed to keep an annoyed expression off his face. She was always so nervous around him that it put him on edge. He had no idea why. The girl towered over him; she could squish him if she needed to. “Relax, Amber. I’m the head pastry chef, not the head chef or the owner.” He motioned to where he was headed, even though he was certain she knew, and walked past her. “However, if the desserts aren’t up to par, heads will roll….” If nothing else, it was good to make a surprise visit to see if his team was consistent when he wasn’t there. Although he was willing to bet Amber would alert them to his presence. As he neared the table, he glanced back. Sure enough, the leggy redhead was nowhere to be seen.
“Casper!”
At the sound of his name, he refocused on the table where Brent stood and motioned him over.
When he was closer, Brent made a sweeping movement over the table. “Casper, this is everyone. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Casper James.”
Casper was certain his flinch was visible.
Brent gave him a quick peck on the cheek and what was intended to be a quick hug. Casper held on, angling his lips up to Brent’s ear. “Boyfriend, really ? And I don’t suppose my sudden invitation had anything to do with hoping to get the tab comped.”
Brent had the sense not to respond as they parted and didn’t meet Casper’s eyes as he sat back down.
Suddenly his boyfriend, but he doesn’t save me a seat. The tool is so not getting laid tonight. Dammit.
A larger lady who sat directly across from Brent patted the empty chair beside her. He walked around the table and took a seat. “Thanks. I’m Casper.”
“I’ve heard.” She offered her hand with a smile. “We all thought he made you up.”
Casper shook her hand and pulled himself up to the table. “Oh?”
“Yes. We’ve been hearing about the head-chef boyfriend for months now. Though you seem shorter than I’d been led to believe.” Her smile had grown mocking, but Casper didn’t think the sentiment was directed toward him. “I’m Monica, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” Casper glanced over. Brent was fully focused on the man seated next to him, not that Casper could blame him. The man was gorgeous. He returned his attention to Monica. “Not only am I short, but I’m only the head pastry chef.”
Monica’s expression was back to friendly. “That’s even better, in my opinion.” She raised her voice, drawing the attention of the other four. “All these other Nancys are too dainty to
Similar Books
