As I approached my door, the smell of something cooking immediately infiltrated my senses. Music was blasting. He hadn’t wasted any time making himself right at home, apparently.
Channing didn’t even notice me enter.
I swallowed. The sight of him taking over my kitchen really caught me off guard. It wasn’t because he was frying something on the stove, but rather because he was doing it in nothing but his underwear.
His muscular legs were on full display forming a path up to his gray boxer briefs, which left little to the imagination, hugging his package and round ass. And he was shaking that ass around. There was no doubt in my mind that if Channing ever decided to do this very thing for a living, he’d make a killing. Homeboy could dance. He must have been listening to an old school R&B channel because Do Me! by Bell Biv DeVoe was playing. That could have been his anthem, I suppose.
This was all very Tom Cruise in Risky Business—well, if Tom Cruise had been shirtless and shredded. Taking a deep breath in, I just stared at him for several seconds. For as long as I’d known him, I’d never seen him like this.
Deciding it was time to make myself known, I called out over the loud music, “Channing!”
He turned around suddenly and began to laugh. “Oh, shit!” He immediately lowered the music.
“Meow.”
It was then that I realized what looked like a kitten was sitting on his shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it before because the right side of his body wasn’t visible. Also, because I was mostly looking down.
What the heck?
“You brought a cat?”
“Meow.”
“No.” He shook his head and chuckled. “Well, sort of. It’s kind of a crazy story. I’ll tell it to you over lunch.”
“Do you always cook half-naked?”
Was he blushing?
“Actually…yes. But I didn’t think you’d be here until later. Otherwise, I would’ve put some damn pants on.” He approached then kissed me on the cheek, the warmth of his lips and body sending shivers down my spine. A bit of his saliva lingered on my cheek.
Oh. Fuck. I’m in trouble.
Sneaking a fleeting look at his tanned, washboard stomach, I noticed a simple tribal tattoo that started on his lower abs and dipped into the abyss of his underwear line. That was intriguing and made me wonder where the ink ended.
I pried my eyes upward. “I know you weren’t expecting me. I decided to come by and say hello, since I don’t work too far from here.”
“I’m really glad you did.” He flashed his beautiful teeth. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too.”
All of you.
Something on the stove started to burn, prompting him to rush back over to it. The kitten managed to stay glued to his shoulder despite the swift movement. I laughed because suddenly my house had transformed into a circus.
He glanced back at me. “You can stay and eat, right?”
“That depends on whether you put some pants on.”
“No junk food for lunch. Got it. No problemo.” He winked. “Yeah, of course, I’ll get dressed.”
Stretching my neck in an attempt to see what he was cooking, I asked, “Is there even enough food? You weren’t expecting me.”
“Yeah. I always make too much.”
“Meow.”
“Do you mind telling me now where this cat came from?”
“I don’t know where she came from, actually. She found me somehow.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I was walking here, and she followed me to your doorstep. She found me on State Street and just kept walking alongside me all the way to Beacon Hill. I didn’t have the heart to leave her standing there on the curb while I came inside. She kept meowing at me. I figured she was hungry. I gave her a little of the turkey you had in the fridge. I’ll replace it. I was gonna find a shelter and take her there later or maybe tomorrow after work.”
“Leave it to you to be a pussy magnet, Channing.” I chuckled.
“I guess, right?”
Our eyes locked, and he seemed to be observing me.
I cleared my throat. “Well, it definitely seems like you’ve had an active couple of first hours in Boston.”
“It’s all good. I really like this city so far. Stopped at a nice, little market in the North End on my way here, too.” He nudged his head toward his shoulder where the tiny cat was perched. “Before I ran into this one over here.”
Maybe now wasn’t a good time to break the news that pets weren’t allowed. I couldn’t help but swoon a little over the fact that he’d taken in a stray cat, though.
“Boston is a beautiful city, especially this time of year when the leaves start changing. You’re gonna love it here.”
“Keep an eye on the stove for me? I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”
The kitten stayed on Channing’s shoulder as he sauntered over to his room to get dressed.
He came back out a minute later wearing jeans and a fitted, white shirt. He was holding the kitten now, cradling it like a baby in his strong arms.
“She finally climbed down off of you?”
“Well, no, I had to pry her away so that I could put my shirt on.”
The cat was purring as Channing gently scratched its head. His masculine fingers raked through the soft, white fur. That made the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen.
“Is it okay if I put her down? Not sure if you want her on your furniture.”
I waved my hand. “Sure. Yeah, it’s fine. Although, I’m pretty sure she’d prefer to stay with you indefinitely.”
“I don’t know what it is about me that she likes so much.” He gently placed the cat on the ground. She weaved in and out of his legs while purring. Channing then headed over to the sink to wash his hands. “Anyway, hope you’re hungry.”
“What did you make?”
He wriggled his brows. “Ah…the chef never tells.”
“The chef never tells the ingredients, but you can tell me what it is.”
“No. I’d rather you taste it without judgment first.”
Crossing my arms, I shook my head in amusement.
Channing proceeded to open a bottle of white wine he had chilling in the fridge. With a loud pop, he freed the cork then poured two glasses.
Holding up my palms, I said, “Oh, no. I can’t drink. I’m going back to work.”
“You think you’re going back to work, but you’re really not.”
I knew damn well that if I took even one sip of alcohol, I wasn’t going to be heading back to the school.
“You’re a bad influence.”
He flashed a mischievous grin. “You have no idea.”
I got chills. “Oh, yes, I do. And some things never change.”
He winked, and it felt like someone had turned the temperature up in the kitchen.
Once we sat down to eat, my body cooled off a bit as I became more acclimated to having him here. He’d fried us…these things…wrapped in bacon. Whatever it was, it was delicious.
Channing filled me in on his new position as a quality engineer at SeraMed while the kitten was by his feet the entire time.
“So what exactly does a quality engineer do?”
“The company I work for out in Chicago owns SeraMed. They sent me here to oversee a new medical product they’ve created that SeraMed is manufacturing. My job is to make sure it meets quality standards and specifications and then suggest changes, if needed.”
“Sounds complicated. But I always knew you were smart.”
“It can be a lot of pressure to not screw up, particularly when you’re dealing with medical products and people’s lives. But you know, work hard, play harder. I don’t take my work home with me.”
Once I cleaned my plate, I asked him the question that had been nagging me. “Okay, can you please tell me what the hell that was I just ate? It was delicious, but I had no clue what I was consuming.”
Channing was laughing
at me. “What do you think you ate?”
“My best guess would be fried clams wrapped in bacon.”
He wiped his mouth and smirked. “It was fried escargot wrapped in bacon, so you got the last part right—the bacon.”
Oh, my God.
“Escargot? Isn’t that snails?”
“Yup. I picked them up at that market I told you about.”
“I just ate snails? They tasted like clams!”
“Escargot fuck yourself, Channing? Is what you want to say to me right now?” He was cracking up. “Tell me you would’ve eaten them if you knew, though.”
“I absolutely wouldn’t have.”
“See…sometimes it’s better not to know things. We can enjoy something as it was meant to be enjoyed without preconceived notions. Snails are a delicacy—and an aphrodisiac.”
“I remember hearing that. Oysters, too. But I don’t get it. How is that even possible? How does an oyster, for example, make you want to have sex? Does that make any sense to you?”
He licked his lips. “I actually know where that connection came from.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. It has to do with the famous lover, Casanova. Rumor had it that he ate fifty oysters a day to build up his stamina. Somehow, they associated the oysters with sex for that very reason.”
“Well, it takes a Casanova to know a Casanova, I suppose.” I winked. “So, really, what you’re saying is, it’s more like folklore. There really isn’t a scientific reason?”
“Well, have you ever looked closely at an oyster?” he asked.
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“It looks like a labia.”
“A labia…”
“Yeah, you know, the—”
“I know what a labia is.” I briefly fanned myself with a napkin.
“Eating an oyster is kind of like…” He hesitated. “Well, you know what I’m getting at.”
Chills ran down my back as I stared at his lips. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“So, maybe Casanova was…practicing his technique,” he said.
“Interesting theory.”
“Isn’t it?” He smiled.
Desperately needing to move away from the sexual topics, I said, “Anyway, what I just ate—snails—are absolutely not meant to be eaten.”
“Neither are cows or turkey and all the other things we consume every day.”
Pondering that for a moment, I said, “I suppose that’s true.”
“Speaking of turkey…have you spoken to Rory?”
Ugh.
Why did he mention him?
“No, I haven’t, actually. It’s better that way. And you don’t have to badmouth him to make me feel better. I’m a big girl.”
“Well, technically, I feel bad for him.”
“Why is that?”
He took another sip of wine before he said, “Because he got dumped.”
Wait.
What?
Did he not know the truth about what happened between Rory and me? It felt like the entire world knew.
“I didn’t dump him. Where did you hear that?”
“Jordan didn’t use those exact words, per se. I just assumed the break up was your choice. Rory was always so whipped.”
“Well, it wasn’t…my choice.”
He’d been drinking his wine but stopped mid-sip. “Wait a minute. Hold up. He broke up with you?”
I nodded.
He repeated, “Rory…broke up with…you.”
“Yes. You want me to have to say it?”
Channing’s expression turned serious as he put his glass down. “I’m sorry…I’m just…I’m floored.”
“Yeah, so was I.”
He proceeded to pour me more of the chardonnay.
I held my palm out in an attempt to stop him. “What are you doing?”
“Call in sick for the rest of the afternoon. I want you to tell me what happened with that fucking fool, and I want you to have more wine and relax while you’re doing it. Plus, it’s my first day here and my only weekday off. That’s reason enough to play hooky.”
As a teaching assistant, I didn’t exactly have the kind of job where you could just bail on work without a dozen things falling apart. But I couldn’t remember the last time I took a sick day. I was enjoying Channing’s company and really felt like unloading on him. I wanted him to tell me Rory was an idiot for leaving me. I wanted him to make me feel better, even if it didn’t really change anything.
Channing tilted his head. “Come on.”
“You’re not going to let me say no, are you?”
“Fuck, no. I’ll chain you to the chair if I have to.”
I chose to ignore the muscles between my legs contracting at the thought of this man chaining me to a chair.
It didn’t take much to convince me. I’d really made the decision to stay when I’d taken that first sip of wine. I knew we were fully staffed today at work, so in my mind I was able to justify calling out.
“Alright. I guess I can text my boss and make up an excuse.”
“Perfect.”
He got up to take our plates to the sink while I sent a message to work, making up a sudden illness as the reason why I couldn’t return for the remainder of the afternoon.
He called over to me, “Stop feeling guilty, Amber.”
How did he know that was exactly how I was feeling?
“Perceptive, aren’t you?”
I noticed that the kitten had followed him over to the sink.
Channing loaded the plates into the dishwasher. “Up for dessert?”
“Considering what we ate for lunch, should I be concerned?”
“I promise, it’s not anything weird. In fact, I’m a hundred percent sure you’re gonna like what I got.”
He grabbed a small paper bag off the counter and brought it over to the table before taking out two cake pops.
A big smile spread over my face.
He held them up. “You want the pink or the brown one?”
“What are we…five?” I laughed then answered, “Pink.”
I took a bite and thought about the fact that white wine and cake pops really complemented each other well. I should do this more often. But the truth was, I wouldn’t have even thought to do this, to take this time for myself in the middle of the day, if it weren’t for Channing. My kitchen had never been filled with so much life.
Looking down at my half-eaten cake ball, I said, “These remind me of Hoffman’s.”
Hoffman’s was the bakery in our old neighborhood just outside of Chicago. Growing up, Lainey and I used to get cake pops from there all of the time.
Lainey.
I wouldn’t say her name. I didn’t want to upset him. Channing always seemed to like to talk about things that reminded him of her without actually discussing her, so as not to have to remember what actually happened to his sister. That was how he handled the pain of her accident. So, I knew what these cake pops were really about. It was just one of the subtle ways he honored her memory.
“I know they’re like the ones at Hoffman’s. That’s why I got them.” He took a bite, catching a piece of the chocolate fondant that fell into his hand.
His eyes fell to my lips as I licked the last of the frosting off the stick. The tone of his voice softened as he leaned into his elbows. “Tell me what happened with Rory.”
“I told you what happened.”
“I want the long version.”
I knew I wasn’t going to get out of talking about it. So, I took a long sip of the wine and began to unload on him.
Over the next several minutes, Channing listened attentively as I recalled Rory’s breaking up with me, from the days leading up to it, to the Bed Bath & Beyond incident, to the exact words Rory said to me when he suggested we explore other people.
It was the first time I’d really gone over what happened in such great detail. It felt like I was reliving it, and I ended up breaking down. There was something about telling Chann
ing everything that made me emotional enough to cry. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a big brother to tell things to, or maybe it was because Channing was one of the few people who knew Rory and me from the very beginning of our relationship—who knew how trustworthy Rory was. Technically, without Channing I would never have met Rory. I felt like Channing was truly on my side, though. He seemed like he wanted to kick Rory’s ass for hurting me. And that gave me some comfort. Sometimes, you just need a strong male friend in your corner—a protector. Channing was that person for me. Even if years went by and we didn’t speak, I knew he would be there for me if I ever needed him. In a sense, that was happening at the moment.
“I know it may not seem like it right now, but Rory did you a favor.”
“By wasting nine years of my life?”
“I think he’s crazy for letting you go, alright? He’ll never find someone like you again. But, in a sense, he’s right. You haven’t experienced enough to know that he’s the one. You’ve only been with one man—one man in your entire life. I don’t think he can do better, but quite frankly, I think you can.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your former best friend.”
“Rory and I were never as close as you thought,” he was quick to say. “And even if we were, I call it like I see it. You were always out of his league.”
“On a superficial level, maybe. Although, you haven’t seen him lately. He looks really good now.”
“You’re wrong…on every level.”
His words gave me pause. I didn’t even care if he was blowing smoke up my ass at this point. It made me feel good to hear him say that. I just needed to feel good tonight, after months of feeling like shit. I would take his words and run with them.
“I didn’t want better, Channing. I wanted Rory, someone whom I trusted with my life. He’s a good guy and knows me inside and out. It will take me years to build that kind of connection with someone again. If you live your life constantly thinking that the grass may be greener, you’ll never settle down.”
“No, but if you never venture out of your bubble of safety, you’ll never realize it’s not the color of the grass that matters but how fucking good it tastes to smoke it.”
Gentleman Nine Page 2
