Chapter 24

Memories flood my mind as I look around the luxurious living room of the penthouse suite. Calling the concierge to ask for the nearest gay bar. Waking up in a fit of sweat, only to find a half-naked Blake emerging form the bathroom. Flashes of Blake pressing me against the window. The soft glow of the TV and city lights bouncing off of his features. Masculine fingertips sliding around my wrist, urging me to stay.

I blink away the thoughts and slide my suitcase against the wall.

"So, what's the game plan for tonight?"

"Why? Got somewhere to be?" Blake asks coolly.

He doesn't look at me when he asks the question, but the hardness of his voice tells me all I need to know.

He's jealous.

And fuck, is it hot.

The last time we were in Miami, I had no problem playing off that jealousy. Now though, with how delicate things are between us, I feel like it's too soon to go down that road again.

I clear my throat and plop on the couch. "Not at all. Just wondering what the game plan is."

Blake eyes me. This is my first attempt at 'diffusing' a situation. I can only imagine what thoughts are racing through his head because of it. He grabs the handle of his suitcase and begins dragging it down the hallway.

My lustful gaze laps up the view, his backside far more alluring in a pair of jeans than most of his dress pants. I want to grab my suitcase and follow a step behind him, but my fear of rejection keeps me in place. He has yet to tell me where I'll be sleeping, but I'm also too much a chicken shit to ask.

Besides, if it's anywhere but in bed – with him – I think I'd rather wait to hear the answer.

A few minutes pass. I picture Blake setting his suitcase on the bed, unpacking his clothes like the neat freak he is. I've noticed clutter or filth of any kind bothers him. Kansas told me one time a worker came in to fix the overhead lights in his room. Unfortunately for the worker, he didn't realize he'd traipsed in mud with his boots.

Granted, I wasn't there to witness the disastrous event unfold, but from Kansas's animated version, Blake was ready to rip up the whole damn carpet just to be rid of the mess.

I grin and wonder what he'd say if he got into my car at any point. His lips would curl in disgust within seconds. My grin widens as I picture the look on his face if he realized that was the vehicle which carried his lunch back to the office for weeks on end.

He'd probably burn my car on the spot.

Blake strides back into the living room with a clean pair of black dress pants and a deep purple dress shirt. He rolls the sleeves up to his elbows and fidgets with the watch on his wrist.

"Callum, I would like to invite you to be my date tonight."

"Your date?"

Blake gives a clipped nod. "My date. When the two of us go out, we do so as co-workers. Sometimes friends. I realize that's all we are, but tonight, I would like you to consider yourself my date."

I frown and lean forward on the couch. The idea in and of itself is incredibly appealing. Then again, I think I'd agree to just about anything Blake asked of me. The reason for my pause is to understand the angle.

Blake is an intelligent man. He's a planner. Nothing he does is without reason, and no request he gives is without purpose.

So what's the angle here?

I tilt my chin up and squint. "What do you mean by date?"

Blake finishes adjusting his watch and leans against the wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I mean that, for tonight, I want you to view me as your date. Not your boss, not your co-worker, and not the man who signs your paychecks."

"Then how should I view you?"

He shrugs. "Simply as a man who's asking you out on a date."

Warmth rises up my neck and into my cheeks. Blake glances at me to gauge my reaction and suppresses a grin.

I clear my throat, trying to stop the onslaught of the other questions I have in mind given this new proposal. As I said earlier, the situation between us is delicate. The 'dating' thing might not stick. It might not work at all.

Hell, maybe by the time we get back to the hotel, the two of us will realize how awkward the entire thing was from the start.

At the very least, however, agreeing to this means a night of indulgence – indulgence both physically and emotionally.

"Yea, alright," I answer, trying to hide my enthusiasm. "So where are we going for this 'date'?"

__________

Blake chuckles as the two of us amble down the busy sidewalk. My words are a bit slurred, the last Jack and Coke going straight to my head.

"Dinner was fuckin' awesome," I say, my voice mixing the buzz of the city. "I haven't had a steak that good since...I don't even know when. How was your prissy fish?"

"Wonderful, thank you."

Blake smirks and guides the two of us onto the next street, this one far less busy than the last. We've been walking for a good half hour now, but after the long plane ride, I don't mind stretching out my legs.

Plus, in all fairness, we had a ride available for us. As punctual and obedient as ever, Todd waited outside the restaurant until we finished. When I reminded Blake that this wasn't something that would happen on 'normal date,' he agreed to bypass the personal chauffer and walk back to the hotel instead.

Rat Todd was left muttering under his breath and pulling away from the curb without looking back.

Boo-hoo.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Blake asks and our pace slows now that there isn't anyone around.

Did I have fun tonight?

Yes. Maybe too much.

I think back on my evening with Blake, realizing that most of the 'date' wasn't so different than normal. We went to a fancy dinner where I rolled my eyes at the prices on the menu and Blake chuckled under his breath at all my sarcastic and snarky jokes. In fact, it wasn't until the dinner plates were removed from the table that things started to feel different.

Blake requested for me to pull my chair around so the two of us were sitting closer. Then his hand moved under the table, reaching over and resting on my leg. His thumb rubbed against my lower thigh, moving in slow, small circles. The heat of his touch was soothing yet equally enticing.

He asked if we were ready to leave, and that's when I realized I didn't want him to stop. So I said I still had a bit of room left for a drink.

Which turned into four.

I stumble over a cracked piece of cement and lean into Blake. His strong arm moves behind me, steadying my weight without hesitation or struggle. Glittering lights break the gap of darkness of the secluded street, and my eyes focus on the bar we're getting closer to by the minute.

Francisco's.

Just looking at the sign makes me feel guilty. Cade texted me multiple times this evening. When I finally checked my phone at dinner, I responded with a short text letting him know I was busy. That's when the guilt settled into place.

Blake slows his pace and follows my gaze to the twinkling sign keeping my attention. He stiffens but doesn't shy away from me.

"You want to go in for a drink?" he asks quietly.

Do I?

In all honesty, I am itching to see Cade. The idea of seeing him with Blake on my arm, however, isn't what I had in mind. I squint at the sign and pull out my phone to text Cade.

Me: You working?

Cade's text is instant.

Cade: Yea. Off in 30. You want to catch a drink?

Cade: Or you free for a visit?

My chest squeezes at his eagerness. I remind myself that it's alright to be happy that he's texting me. It's alright that I'm excited to see him. I may be on a date with Blake, but Cade is my friend. With the possibility of being more?

Besides, it's not like Blake has a say. He doesn't own me.

Not yet, anyway.

I scowl at the snippy one-liner from my sub-conscious and text Cade again.

Me: I'm right outside Francisco's. See you in a minute.

I shove my phone back into my pocket, not waiting for his response. When I look at Blake again, it's impossible not to notice the hurt hidden beneath his gaze. He quickly recovers though, and his features smooth out with composure. He gives me a forced smile and nods towards the bar.

"What's the good word?" he asks. "We going in?"

"Yea."

Blake purses his lips together, and the composure on his face falters again. This time it isn't hurt or disappointment that's lining his features, however. It's a look akin to gloating. Success, even. Blake slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side.

"Fine by me," he says with a growing smirk. "Just remember, Callum. This is still a part of our date."

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the quickening pulse and the sudden ache in my stomach.

"And even if it's just for the night," Blake adds, leaning his lips close to my ear. "I will have no problem letting the entire bar know you are mine."