Friday, July 4, 2014

Happy 4th of July! Happy Independence Day for those who celebrate.
In my neck of the woods its the perfect day for grilling burgers and fireworks. In honor of the 4th here is a snippet from The Farmer Takes the Cook and the Foreman. It just goes to show that not all first meetings are wine and roses.

“What are you doing?” demanded a strange voice.
For the second time that day, Elliot practically jumped out of his skin. Turning he saw before him a very tall man, all dressed in black. His jet black hair was styled close to his head, but long enough to make a person want to touch. A short beard shadowed his jaw, drawing ones attention to firm kissable lips. Deep brown eyes looked at him with a mixture of both concern and curiosity.
“I’m getting the table ready for the noon meal,” Elliot answered.
“Who told you to do that?” the man asked.
“Well, after Callum and I stopped Xavi from pitching anymore fruit at Trace, it was decided that since I’m capable of making more for lunch than sandwiches that I should get to it.” Elliot hid his smile when the handsome man winced at the word "sandwich". Seems like everyone was in agreement that "sandwich" was the new swear word in this house.
“So, did Trace haul Xavi out of here after his temper tantrum?” The man smiled, distracting Elliot, bringing his attention back to those lips.
“Um, no,” he managed to answer. “They’re all watching television in the room with the pool table, waiting for lunch.” Elliot pointed towards the area on the other side of the kitchen, the men had disappeared too.
The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Adam VanPeterson. I assume your Elliot Fisher.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. VanPeterson. Yes, I’m Elliot.” Elliot smiled, and shook the other man’s hand. He desperately hoped his face didn’t show the surprise he felt when their hands made contact. His gut clinched tight and his breath hitched at the sudden attraction he felt towards Adam. As the handsome man let go of his hand, he caressed Elliot’s palm. Elliot’s lust shut down cold. He knew right then, Adam was a player.
“Call me Adam,” Adam said. Elliot didn’t miss Adam’s gaze slowly make its way down his body, deliberately focusing on his groin for a moment and then leisurely make its way back up. Elliot was so not impressed.

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