Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Most importantly, in that future, he’d get to wake up with his nose buried in Frank’s tattooed chest every single morning.
Ezra’s cheeks burned, and as his head spun a bit, he was grateful for the steadiness of the chair under him. He felt weak in the face of Frank’s declaration, and no matter how hard he tried to poke holes in his words, they seemed sincere.
Ezra was at a crossroads and wondered if he shouldn’t leave the safety of the main road and head into the woods. For now, sun shone through the leaves, dappling the mossy undergrowth, but if he abandoned the route he’d been following for years, all the goals he’d set for his future would be lost. Was this a risk he could afford to take because of one person?
How was he, the man Paul always called his ice prince, even considering this?
Frank had so far proven himself every time. He’d been patient, had taken Ezra in despite the risk to his own safety, and had never once questioned what Ezra had seen at Paul’s. His protection felt like a safety net that wouldn’t snap under Ezra just because he said the wrong thing.
He’d never before had that, and while Frank couldn’t offer him the kind of money or connections Robert the film producer would, his promise had weight. Unlike anyone else’s.
“I do like you. I just didn’t think we could—” He swallowed, so out of his depth that his usual conversation skills were failing him.
Frank nodded and squeezed Ezra’s fingers. “We could. I’ve been… on my own for quite some time. But if you wanted to give this thing a shot, I’m at a point where I’m ready to try. No rush though. Think about it. What plans did you have in LA—”
The rumble of motorcycle engines stopped Frank, but Ezra was still stuck processing Frank’s words. No man had ever spoken to him so earnestly. And despite knowing that succumbing to his desires would have been a mistake, he let himself imagine a life in which he was Frank’s little spoon, cheered him on during competitions, and maybe even made him healthy packed lunches like some good little househusband.
He shouldn’t want that.
That wasn’t the plan.
But the sudden arrival of a stranger was a convenient excuse to curb this conversation for now. “Who’s that?” he asked, rising from his chair. “Should I hide?”
Frank let go of Ezra’s hand to peek out of the window, but just shook his head when he returned to the previous position by the table. “Nah, it’s just my nephew, Dex. I’ll have to go… look at some motorcycle parts when his club arrives.”
Frank got up to put on a T-shirt, and Dex walked right in after a short knock.
“Hey! I came earl—ohh hello.” Dex’s brown eyes zeroed in on Ezra, and he smiled in a devilish way that suited his extravagant look and proved that his boy-next-door face, complete with a dusting of freckles, was a lie.
He had to be a bit older than Ezra, but his whole vibe screamed dangerous child, don’t give matches. His mane was dyed blond and styled into a floppy mohawk, with buzzed sides that had a lightning bolt design shaved into the short hair. Black plugs filled his earlobes, and his arms and neck were covered in a random assortment of tattoos. He wore a simple black T-shirt under a leather vest and it read I’m with stupid above an arrow pointing to his crotch.
Frank had spoken about his nephew a few times, but seeing the guy in person completed the picture.
Frank sighed. “That’s okay, I was just having breakfast.”
His nephew grinned and strode over to the table, grabbing himself a plate on the way. “Fucking A. I’m hungry. Aren’t you gonna introduce me though? Dex.” He sat down and held his hand out to Ezra.
Ezra shook it, introduced himself, and pointed to the half-empty jug on the counter. “There’s coffee too. Should still be warm.”
Dex grabbed himself three pancakes in one go, then drizzled them in a flood of maple syrup. “Did you make these? My uncle rarely has a feast like this. He’ll usually just do, like, a can of beans, but they make him—”
“Shut the fuck up, Dex!” Frank snarled and sat back down, with his expression going from mildly annoyed to storm cloud.
Dex raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, just sayin’. I didn’t know we were in the presence of a gentleman.” He cackled like a hyena, winking at Ezra.
Ezra hid behind his cup, because everything about Frank’s nephew was loud, boisterous, maybe even a bit dangerous, though that last impression could be on account of him flying motorcycle club colors. “Maybe you two have something to discuss?” he asked, meeting Frank’s gaze. Dex’s energy was too much, too fast, and all at once, at that.