Jasper swallowed a whine. The way Vincent said his name sent a burst of heat through his gut. “Night,Vincent,” he replied with a wink.
When he reached the front door, he glanced back to wave, and the car pulled away.
Despite the movie playing on the TV, it was obvious Keith and Terrance were waiting for him. Jasper might have been annoyed if he wasn’t intimately familiar with the alternative: A dark house, either empty or with a drunken father passed out on the couch to sneak past.
Terrance immediately muted the sound when Jasper stepped into the room. “How’d it go?”
“Okay, I think,” Jasper replied, pulling out the contract and handing it over. He sank into the recliner and watched both of them read it.
After a couple of minutes, Keith handed it back. “Well, it’s a good start for a test run, if that’s what you want. Anything else that needs to go in it will make itself known with experience.”
Jasper breathed a sigh of relief and took it back, then read it again himself. “You think I should sign?”
“Only one who can answer that is you,” Terrance replied. “You definitely seem to like him, though God knows why,” he added, wincing as Keith smacked him in the chest.
“Two months isn’t that long to test the waters,” Keith said.
“But what if after the first couple weeks I realize it’s not what I want?”
“Then if Vincent is as good as you think he is, he’ll realize it too, and you’ll figure something out,” Keith replied, as if that should have been obvious. “It’s not like it’s legally binding. It’s between the two of you.”
Jasper bit his lower lip and stared at the contract another minute, finally putting it back in the envelope. He told himself he needed to think about it, and he did, but he couldn’t come up with a single reason not to do this. He liked Vincent. He liked what Vincent did to him, how Vincent made him feel. They may not have had much interaction outside of the two nights in the club and dinner, but they seemed to get along well enough.
TWO DAYSlater, he texted Vincent.
I’ll sign
The response came a few minutes later.
Car will pick you up Friday night at 6. If you sign when you get here, you’ll stay untilSunday morning.
Two days.
Two days for Vincent to do whatever he wanted with him.
Jasper couldn’t wait.
WHEN THEcar pulled up in front of Vincent’s home on Friday evening, all Jasper could do was stare. It was a large two-story house in a nice neighborhood with a well-kept lawn. Flowers and bushes lined the walkway leading to the door. It wasn’t as monstrous as Amber’s house, but it was obviously meant for someone wealthy and classy.
If the club ownership, personal driver, and restaurant hadn’t screamedinsanely rich, this place certainly did. All except for the large horrendously bright pink plastic flamingo near the porch.
The driver opened the door, and Jasper took a steadying breath as he climbed out and hooked his small duffel bag over his shoulder. Vincent had sent a text saying he wouldn’t need anything, but he’d brought a change of clothes and his toothbrush just in case.
He rang the doorbell, eyeing the pink flamingo near the tall fluffy bushes to the left of the door. He fidgeted with his shirt until the door opened. Then he blinked.
Vincent had an apron on. That was so… so…hot.
Jasper couldn’t help but stare, ignoring the frown Vincent gave his bag. “Hi,” he said, stepping inside.
“Shoes off. You can put your bag on a chair,” Vincent said, turning and heading into the kitchen.
Jasper closed the door behind him, toed his shoes off next to Vincent’s, and trailed after him. He dropped his bag onto a chair in the living room, noting the wood floors and elaborate entertainment center. There was a nice collection of movies and games neatly lined up on the shelves beneath the TV, along with at least two of the latest gaming consoles.
He turned and continued through the living room, dragging his fingertips over the back of a dark gray sofa. This entire part of the house was the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Instead of walls, the only thing separating them was a large island between the kitchen and living room. “You’re cooking?” he asked when he reached the kitchen. He leaned against the island counter to keep out of the way.
Vincent wasn’t wearing his usual suit. He had on black jeans and a mid-sleeve Henley, his feet socked. “You sound surprised.”
Jasper shrugged at Vincent’s back. “I never thought of you as the cooking type.”
