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five
. . .
Jen
High Maintenance
“But my question is,do visitors want dick and balls in their face the second they open the site?” Tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, I lean down to scoop half a cup of dry food into a pair of dog bowls. “Or do you envision a more subtle entry point?”
Cher and Tai, my dachshunds, wag their little tails at my feet. Blowing them air kisses, I set down the bowls on the floor. They immediately start chowing down.
Olivia Gates, the romance author I’m designing new branding and a website for as she launches a second pen name, chuckles. “My new brand is ‘lady perv meets M/M Jane Austen.’ Of course my readers want dick and balls in their face. Just make it classy.”
I grin. “And this is why I love my job. Maybe we feature an illustrated sex scene? Something you commission, so we can make it sexyandromantic. I’m thinking about that moment inMan Downwhen Manuel and Archibald run into each other in the garden on his estate.”
“The blow job by the rose trellis. Yes!”
I don’t typically take work calls on Sundays. But I love working with Olivia, who lives in Charleston and is married to a hot-shot chef who, when he’s popped in on our Zoom calls to say hello, kinda looks like Tom Hardy.
She’s built a loyal readership writing racy historical romance as Olivia Gates. But recently, she’s dipped her toes into the M/M waters under a new pen name. Her first book has done well, so now we’re building O. Gatwick a beautiful website.
“So hot,” I say. “And lovely. There are a couple artists I follow on Instagram who I think would be a great fit—” I look up when my doorbell chimes.
“Someone’s at the door,” my Alexa helpfully adds.
Cher and Tai look up from their bowls. I frown. It’s almost five o’clock; I’m not expecting any visitors.
“Ilovethis idea,” Olivia says. “And I could use the illustration on postcards to sell or give away at signings. This is kind of perfect.”
Padding to the front of the house, I nod. “Totally agree. And I could incorporate the roses into your branding.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Wow, how many times am I going to emphatically sayyeson this call?”
Cher and Tai follow me to the door, their nails clacking pleasantly on the hardwoods. I adopted Cher two years ago. She’s a mini dachshund, and she’s reddish-brown, a little chunky, and a lot sweet. Tai is our newest addition. She’s a dapple dachshund with spots and the prettiest brown eyes you ever did see. “Almost as many as Manuel says when Archibald goes down on him in that garden.”
Olivia laughs. My heart swells.
Then promptly takes a swan dive when I see Abel standing at the door. Tai barks. Cher jumps onto the kick-plate, her tail going wild.
I keep my actual front door open during the day, so only the fully transparent storm door separates Abel and me. Helooks down at the dogs, giving Cher a little wave before looking up at me.
Our eyes meet through the glass. I’m hit by a full-body shockwave ofwow. Speaking of broody men who are excellent at darkening doorways (it’s Archibald’s signature move inMan Down): Abel looksgoodin his usual jeans and T-shirt. His hair is a little wet, like he just got out of the shower before coming here. The ring of purple around his left eye has darkened since yesterday.
Yesterday, when he asked me to marry him.
The proposal I agreed to in a text I sent him late last night after I never heard from Brian. But Abel didn’t text me back or call, which has sent me into a tailspin of regret and embarrassment all day. My scheduled call with Olivia this afternoon felt very much like a lifeline. Work doesn’t always make me feel better, but today I’m more grateful than usual to be busy.
My hand shakes as I turn the knob and open the door. Abel’s in a pair of thick-soled work boots. I’m barefoot. He towers over me.
The smell of body wash and leather fills my head.
I manage a smile as I tilt my head.Come in, I mouth.
“I could commission some additional character art too,” Olivia is saying. “Use it throughout the site to create a coherent look.”
Abel steps inside. Cher and Tai immediately assault him, jumping up on his legs. I’m about to shoo them away when he squats, knees cracking as he gives their velvety ears a gentle tug. “Hey, y’all.”
He looks like a giant crouching to fit inside a hobbit’s house. He’ssobig. So... broad and gorgeous andGodI love the way his shirt draws tight across his shoulder blades.
