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Geoffrey’s heart pounded hard in his chest as he stared at the amazing man stretched out with the baby holding two fistfuls of beard. He’d done it all for Geoffrey—got him an escape and took a chance by introducing him to his family—just to lift his spirits.
“What’s your baby’s name?” he said after clearing his throat of the lump that had grown there. Inside, he was both chiding himself and trying to calm the terrified racing of his heart. And his crazy imagination.
“Reuben. My husband is British and it’s long been a family name.”
“I like that. Helps that he’s named after my favorite sandwich.”
Alida sighed. “Mine, too. Hey, Sven, can you guys stay for dinner? I’m making Reubens.”
“She doesn’t mean you, sweet little boy,” Sven said, patting the boy’s back. “Your mommy has a deplorable sense of humor.”
“But good taste in food.” She winked at Geoffrey. “You hungry? I know it’s not dinnertime yet, but I skipped lunch and breastfeeding has me eating meals at all weird hours anyway.”
“I am actually.” He hadn’t eaten yet and had barely picked at his Chinese takeout the night before. The recollection brought him back to the reason he’d been so depressed and a fresh wave of humiliation swept over him, prickling his skin and making him nauseous. All those people had seen him drugged, in his private personal space. He’d always been careful about where he took his selfies and most knew the inside of his closet well. But now, they’d seen his room, his bed. They’d watched him get touched by a ghostly pixelated hand that in all actuality belonged to a real son of a bitch. The fiery urge to find out who it was came back and a new resolve squared his shoulders.
He watched Alida pull out food, turned to take in her very calm and happy brother snuggling with baby Reuben. It was time. He decided then and there that he was now in fight mode. No more hiding for Geoffrey.###
Quinn called when Geoffrey was changing into his favorite pair of blue silk pajama pants and delivered some mildly helpful news. They had cleaned up the video image enough to verify that is was a white male’s hand, but they hadn’t been able to get the voice to come through yet. Quinn was still focused on the fact that the stalker had some mad tech skills and was sure that it was an important lead on who it could be. Geoffrey didn’t want to, but he had to agree with Quinn. Just those two facts cut down the list of potential suspects considerably.
They also managed to get a hold of former cop Hollis Banner. He had a friend who was a criminal profiler. He was going to reach out and see if she could look at the information that they had gathered so far on the stalker. She could potentially cut the list down even further for them.
It was progress. Sure, it wasn’t a name and an arrest that would allow him to fully get his life back, but they were making steps forward. And he had Sven.
He walked into the kitchen to make popcorn for their movie and grabbed the extra butter microwavable kind. Geoffrey was all about what he called the cheating trifecta—alcohol, waffles and extra, extra butter.
While it popped, he leaned against the counter and spotted his tablet on the dining room table. He started to reach for it, then changed his mind. He hadn’t turned on any of his electronic devices on purpose in hours and the lightness in his chest told him a lot. A lot about how maybe he should take more time off it. The last two days, his curiosity had been too strong to ignore but tonight, all he wanted was to curl up against Sven and sink his brain into an action flick. Learning those were Sven’s favorite kind of movies had only made him more determined to convince the man they belonged together.
Sven walked into the kitchen from the hall leading to the guest room. Like Geoffrey, he was shirtless and all Geoffrey’s attention latched on to that wide expanse of muscled chest. He wondered if it would be too weird if he just walked over and licked his nipples.
“You have the strangest expression on your face,” Sven murmured. “I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.”
“Oh, it’s good. I’m wondering where to put my tongue first.”
“Keep talking like that and we won’t be watching a movie and I won’t get my shirts done.”
Geoffrey finally noticed he was carrying a pile of clothes with a small box on top. “Do you need the washer? I can throw in a load for you.”
“Nah. The shirts are clean. I’m going to fix a couple of rips while we watch the movie.”
“Uh, fix?”
