“Your favorite color is purple,” I say with a laugh. “And you hate pineapple on pizza.”
“I do hate pineapple on pizza, actually,” he says with a laugh.
“I knew I liked you for a reason,” I say as I sip my coffee with a grin.
“As far as goals and aspirations go…” I hold my cup to my lips as I think about my answer. What goals and aspirations would my dream man have? I’ve never really given it much thought.
“You want to travel, see the world. With me, of course,” I say with a wink.
Jacob folds his hands in his lap, watching me intently.
“Your dream is to be a writer,” I say. Jacob smirks.
“What kind of books do I want to write?” he asks, the banter between us easy and warm. Familiar in a way it shouldn’t be.
“I don’t know. Gay werewolves or something,” I say with a chuckle.
His cheeks pinken and once again my cock twitches. I laugh at his response, because clearly someonelikesgay werewolves.
Which makes the guy all the more interesting, to tell the truth.
“Contemporary,” he says with a sheepish grin.
“Hmm?”“Contemporary gay romance would probably be a better genre if you want to appeal to your parents,” he says plainly.
“Yeah, you’re probably right on that,” I admit.
“What about you?” Jacob asks, his gaze settling on me once more.
“What about me?”
“Who areyou?” he asks, and the question pushes all the warmth and humor away.
I know he’s not askingwhoI am. And in all honesty, he’s going to find out soon enough the truth, and I should tell him. I really should, but…
A part of me wants to just hold on to this illusion a little longer, of being someone else.
“I’m a forty-two year old bachelor who fell in love with Prince Charming,” I say as I drink my coffee. “Obviously.”
Jacob purses his lips, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something, but whatever it is, it dies in the air because our French toast plates finally come and pull both of our attention.
After a few bites, he speaks. “PDA stuff still good? Keep it PG-13?”
I chuckle. “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to go for an R rating, but I know you said that’s not something you do on the clock, so, yes.”
Jacob shakes his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to go for an R rating in front of your parents.” He sticks his tongue out.
“True,” I note. “But we can still give the illusion we’re crazy about each other,” I say, stabbing another piece of sweet bread. I dredge it around in the thick, sweet syrup.
“Oh, of course.” Jacob assures me. “I can be very believable.”
It’s my turn to grin. “I don’t doubt it.”
“How did we meet?” he asks. I chew my bite, thinking it over.
“Dating site?”
He shakes his head. “Mmmm, too basic.”
