Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“You sure you don’t want to run upstairs for a few minutes before we head to Timber?”
Adrian’s mouth tasted like toothpaste. I wanted to kiss him until there was no trace of it left and all that remained was the flavor of me.
He pushed me away with a laugh and a hand to the chest. “Some of us have to work for a living, Sullivan. You wouldn’t know a thing about that, would you?”
Considering he’d borne the brunt of most of my hectic schedule this past week with holiday portrait sessions and long hours at the store, I knew he was only teasing.
“Right, because standing around looking pretty while other people take your picture is so much harder than actual manual labor. Tell me, Hayes, do you get hazard pay for the risk of breaking a nail?”
We exchanged barbs the entire walk down Founder’s Row to Timber. Despite the teasing, I held Adrian’s hand in mine and kept him as close as I could without tripping him.
Because I was incredibly aware that after tonight, there was only one official date remaining until Adrian Hayes was gone for good.
#BoyfriendShirt #StopTheClock #MoreThanSnowIsFalling
21
#ELEGANTLYHAMMERED
ADRIAN
Timber looked like a holiday fever dream designed by someone with impeccable taste and a secret obsession with rainbow Christmas lights.
Traditional evergreen garlands wound around the bar’s rustic beams, but interspersed with them were strands of subtle rainbow bulbs that cast everything in a warm, welcoming glow. The effect was both festive and unmistakably queer-friendly—a perfect representation of Legacy’s unexpectedly progressive heart.
“This place looks incredible,” I murmured to Maddox as we shed our coats. The bar was about half-full, couples and small groups scattered around intimate tables, everyone speaking animatedly, as if energized by the season.
Although, to be fair, they could have been energized by the drink specials, too.
Alex appeared beside us like he’d been waiting by the door. “Adrian! Maddox! Perfect timing.” His smile was bright, but I caught an edge of nervous energy underneath. “I’ve got three flights set up for you—the cocktails, the wines, and the whiskies, paired with some small bites I thought would photograph well.”
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said, though I was already mentally cataloging the best way to capture everything. The man had clearly put serious effort into this, and I wanted to get him as much publicity as possible.
“Are you kidding? This is a great opportunity for Timber. Plus…” Alex grinned. “I’ve been dying to show off these holiday cocktail recipes I’ve been working on. Fair warning, though—they’re stronger than they taste.”
Maddox was already scoping out camera angles, his professional eye assessing the lighting. “This’ll work great. The ambiance is perfect for the cozy winter vibe Adrian’s fans have been enjoying.”
The fact that Maddox had paid enough attention to my posts to know how they were being received made something warm inside of me. I was proud of my work, of the platform I’d built, and I was even prouder of the work we’d done together.
I watched Maddox work, noting how much more relaxed he seemed in public now. No more careful distance between us, no more worried glances to see who might be watching. When he caught me staring and winked, my stomach did that familiar flip that I was beginning to associate with being completely gone for this man.
“Alright, let’s get you started,” Alex said, leading us to a table near the fireplace, where he’d arranged three beautiful flights. Each one was artfully presented with appropriate glassware and small cards describing the offerings. It was the kind of setup that would make my followers weep with envy.
As Maddox adjusted his camera equipment, I found myself distracted by the way his dark sweater stretched across his shoulders. My dark sweater, actually. Before hopping out of the truck, he’d sheepishly asked if I wanted him to wear a Nordique piece since I was wearing his shirt. I’d whipped one out of the overnight bag I’d packed.
There hadn’t been a chance in hell of me saying no.
The combination of my clothes on his body and his shoulders stretching the Borealis Noir sweater more than mine ever would was doing things to my concentration that had nothing to do with alcohol.
“You’re staring again,” he murmured without looking up from his camera.
“Can you blame me? You look very… competent right now.”
“Competent?” He raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “That’s the sexiest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Is that so? Because I could go on—” I began, giving him a heated look.
Alex cleared his throat pointedly. “Should I leave you two alone with the alcohol, or…?”
“Shit, fuck,” I said quickly, trying not to notice Maddox’s knowing smirk. “Sorry. We’re ready.”
“I’m just watching the hard worker in action,” Maddox said, batting his eyelashes like an asshole.
Before I could formulate a snarky response, the front door opened with enough force to rattle the windows. Chief Judd Kincaid strode in like he owned the place, tablet in hand and an expression that could curdle milk on his handsome face.