Page 28
Ensley was my Owen Sound local, and I’d discovered a way to get the answers I sought without him being any wiser to my personal quest.
7
Ensley
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mordecai, so when my phone chimed in the middle of a house showing Friday night and his name appeared on the screen, I wanted desperately to shoo the potential buyers out the door and open the message.
His participation in Wednesday night’s DnD had been minimal, not that I’d expected him to jump in with both feet. The guys could be overwhelming, and Mordecai was reserved, if not shy. He didn’t speak much but politely responded when anyone tried to involve him in conversation.
When Mars brought up the haunted mansion more than once, pushing for a Halloween game night, Mordecai seemed nothing more than amused. He confirmed the existence of mutant spiders and rabid dust bunnies but doubled down on the absence of ghosts.
“If Caspian resides in the mansion,” he’d said. “I have yet to meet him.”
Mordecai spent most of the time observing from the sidelines. He’d refused pizza and spent an exorbitant amount of time studying Poet’s modules with what seemed profound curiosity. I would make a gamer out of him yet, and I’d said as much to Ziggy.
At the end of the night, Mordecai hadn’t stuck around like I hoped. The guys lingered and chatted, but Mordecai bowed out before I had a chance to ask when I’d see him again, and I desperately wanted to see him again—preferably before he met the growing population of Owen Sound and found someone better.
After crawling into bed, I’d sent him a text, asking if he was busy on the weekend. He didn’t respond.
Until now.
The young couple meandered through the kitchen and dining area, inquired about the inclusion of appliances, wondered at the septic system maintenance schedule, and asked about the approximate cost of utility bills. I showed them the yard and equipment shed, then talked about the in-ground pool and its recent upgrades. The couple discussed the distance to local schools, the wear of the roof shingles, and what color they might paint the walls.
The entire time, my phone burned a hole in my pocket.
Twenty minutes later, they drove off. I locked the house, tumbled into the Jeep, and opened Mordecai’s text.
Why a priest?
I frowned. The non sequitur might not have answered my question about his weekend plans, but at least it was communication. Chewing my bottom lip, I debated how to reply.
Was I imagining the returned interest? No. We’d shared countless secret smiles on Wednesday evening. He’d taken my hand and allowed me to guide him inside. Upstairs, among my friends, he hadn’t released it.
No straight man would have done that.
I went for broke and texted back. Have dinner with me, and I’ll tell you.
My phone remained silent for so long, I put the Jeep in gear and headed home, mildly concerned that my bold invitation didn’t land the way I hoped. I’d accumulated a long string of hookups over the past ten years, but I hadn’t been on many dates, so I was clumsy when it came to initiating.
The time on the dash read ten to seven. Maybe he already ate. Maybe it was last minute, and he had other plans, or he needed more time to prepare for a date. Maybe he had a boyfriend back home and wasn’t on the market.
As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my phone buzzed. I smiled as I read his text and nearly tripped when I hit the landing unexpectedly and tried to take an extra step that wasn’t there.
You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Elowen. I’ll dine with you, but I have restrictions. Should I meet you somewhere?
Restrictions? The revelation didn’t surprise me. Mordecai had turned down hot cocoa, pizza, and beer in the short time I’d known him. The only thing I’d seen him ingest was water. Thinking back, I wasn’t sure he drank the water. In fact, I distinctly remembered dumping the entire glass when cleaning up Wednesday night.
“Huh.”
Mordecai didn’t elaborate, so I assumed it was a religious thing or he had severe allergies. If he had dietary restrictions, it might explain his paleness. What did I know?
I unlocked the apartment and headed for the bathroom to shower as I responded. How about I pick you up and save you taxi fare? Is eight too soon? I just got home. I need a shower and clean clothes, and I’m set.
His text landed as I stood naked, adjusting the water temperature.
Eight it is.
I imagined the words in his sophisticated tone, with his adorable accent, and smiled.
