Crawling Into Bed With
Sheldon of Jambrea Gaff’s Playing with Fire
And a Good Book
Important things first, are these sheets
silk or cotton?
Silk, baby. I love silky
things against my skin…
What are you wearing?
I thought this was clothing
optional?
What are we snacking on in bed while we
read tonight?
You aren’t on the menu?
*wink*
If I open this nightstand drawer, what
will I find?
*bites lip* well… I do like
to play. *leans over and opens the drawer to pull out a chess set* *winks* My
trunk has all the fun stuff.
Do you roll up in the blankets like a
burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
I kick them off. It gets hot
in here at night.
Can I put my cold feet on your calves to
warm them up?
Bring them on.
What
are we reading?
We are reading about my best friend and boss Hayden
McGrath and his hot man, Amos Vasquez. Playing with Fire is available at Pride Publishing and Amazon.
EXCERPT
“Amos Vasquez
was just seated.”
“Fuck! You
tell his server we’re out of barbecue.” Hayden McGrath pointed at Sheldon, his
manager.
“What?”
Sheldon seemed confused and Hayden didn’t blame him.
“He isn’t
getting any hints as to what I’m going to be doing at the American Royal.” Hayden
got out of his chair and headed to the kitchen. He needed out of the office
anyway—paperwork was driving him nuts…not like he had a long way to go, as he
was proving with the conversation.
“You can’t be
serious. He’s eaten here before. He had your barbecue just last week.”
Hayden knew
Sheldon was trying to calm him down, but it wasn’t working because the crazy
train was leaving the station.
“Not the new
one we’re trying out tonight.” Hayden crossed his arms over his chest.
“Hayden, the
team is ready. We’ve got this. There is no need to get all…insane.” Sheldon
threw his hands in the air.
It was too
late. Hayden rushed out of the kitchen so he could spot where Amos had been
seated. And there he was, talking to a group of guys as if he didn’t have a
care in the world. Damn it, why did he have to look so good? He was tall, dark
and handsome with the dark scruff around his face that had scratched when
they’d kissed. The tattoo on his forearm was on display. The rest of his tats
were hidden where, once upon a time, Hayden had had full access and used it to
his advantage. Amos had his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, as was his
usual style—something Hayden shouldn’t have even noticed. He was over the
cowboy. Totally over him.
He has
such nice strong hands.
But enough of
that. The cowboy was probably sleeping with one of those twinks at the table.
It was infuriating to see the man looking so happy. He should be sad, pining
for what he could never have again.
Hayden moved
through the restaurant, nodding to the few regulars until he reached the table,
letting his anger burn through his system. Why did the jerk have to keep coming
into his restaurant and rubbing it in his face that Amos was over him? Not that
they’d really had a thing. It had been one night.
One that
Hayden kept dreaming about. Repeatedly.
“Don’t you
have somewhere else to be?”
“Well, hello
to you, too, Hayden. I didn’t expect you to personally take our order. I’ll
have some barbecued pulled pork.”
“No. You
won’t. We’re out.” Hayden crossed his arms over his chest. Was denying Amos his
barbecue petty? Yes, but he didn’t have any fucks left to give.
“Somehow I
find that hard to believe, Hay.” Amos smirked at him.
“You don’t get
to call me that, Amos.” Hayden pointed at Amos. He was doing too much of that
this evening. He holstered his finger and glared instead. He knew his face had
to be flushed—the curse of being a redhead.
Amos sat back
in his chair. “Is that why you’re entering the open contest this year at the
American Royal. Something to prove?”
Did Amos look
sad? No. Hayden couldn’t think about that. They were over before they’d ever
begun. He wasn’t going to be another notch on the rancher’s bedpost. Well,
technically, he was a notch, but Hayden wasn’t going to let his heart go to a
player.
“I don’t have
anything to prove to anyone.” Hayden was firm in the belief that he should
share his skills with the world, or at least those attending the American
Royal.
“Then what’s
the big deal about serving me some barbecue?”
“I’m not
giving you an unfair advantage.” Hayden huffed.
“I thought you
knew me better than that, Hayden. I’m not going to steal your recipe. It’s been
a long day. I’m hungry. I don’t want any of your other fare. I enjoy your
barbecue. But whatever. I’ll take what’s on special if it’s going to be that
big of a deal.” Amos sighed.
Hayden hated
that he sounded like a brat. He was a classically trained chef who owned his
own restaurant. Someone listening to him now would never believe it.
“I’ll send
your waiter over. Excuse me.”
Hayden headed
back to the kitchen, Sheldon trailing behind him. He’d almost forgotten his
manager had followed him out of the kitchen.
“What was all
that about, Hayden?”
“I don’t
fucking know. I should know better. He just gets under my skin.” Hayden headed
back to his office. He didn’t work the line anymore—that’s what his head chef
was for. As a matter of fact, he didn’t do a lot of cooking at all anymore and
it was one of the things bugging him lately.
“Maybe you
need to get laid.”
“You know,
you’re one of the only people who can get away with saying things like that.
And I don’t need to get laid. I need to cook. This weekend can’t come fast
enough.”
“We both know
the reason you entered was because you want to beat Amos. He’s placed the last
couple years.”
“Well, this
year, I’m placing better than him. I plan to win this thing. He’s never done
that.” Hayden threw himself into the chair.
“How old are
you, man?”
“Damn it. I
know, I sound like a moody teen. I’ve been in a funk for months.”
“It started
when—”
“Don’t finish
that sentence, Sheldon. Maybe I can open another restaurant. Do some more
hands-on stuff, hire someone for the paperwork. It has nothing to do with that
man. Nothing.”
“Fine. I
won’t, but you need to get over it or fix it.”
“There’s
nothing to fix. I’m going to win that competition and things will be better.”
Hayden fully believed his delusion of things being better, unless he was
sleeping and dreaming of Amos, but he was done with that. He was going to win
the American Royal and send that cowboy back to his ranch with his tail between
his legs.
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