Page 111 of The Gaybor War

Carter Reed is still maddening. Still overly serious. Still incapable of leaving a surface cluttered. But now it’s… different. Now it’s a sexy annoying. The kind that sneaks up on you and makes your chest feel warm and ridiculous.

If I sleep with him again, and it ruins everything, fine. I’ll just move. Maybe to an island. Maybe to wherever Harry Styles lives now. But something in my gut tells me this isn’t a thing that ruins. It’s a thing that changes.

I turn my head and find Carter already looking at me. He’s quiet and thoughtful and entirely too easy to fall for.

Well. That’s inconvenient. And kind of wonderful.

I grin at him, giving his hand a squeeze. "Come on, I’m starving. Dinner’s on me."

"You sure? I’d love to treat you after⁠—"

"Trust me, I signed four new clients today, and I can probably close two more deals before we head home. My treat."

"Fine. Lead the way, Mr. Powerful and Delicious."

Chapter 28

By the time we get back to the hotel, I’m relaxed in a way I didn’t realize I’d been missing.

Dinner was easy. Laughing came naturally. There was shared dessert, stolen glances, and the kind of lingering eye contact that makes everything else fade into background noise. At one point, his foot brushed mine beneath the table, and neither of us moved it away.

I forgot about the party. Which is unfortunate, because humiliation waits for no man.

The moment we step inside the room, Benji makes a soft, delighted noise and darts for the closet.

"Oh," he says excitedly, rifling through garment bags. "I cannot wait."

A warning bell rings in my head. "For what?"

"For this."

He pulls out a costume that invites an indecent exposure citation.

"Pirate," he announces cheerfully.

"That’s not a pirate." I stare at the sliver of fabric in his hands. "That’s a threat."

He grins. "Semantics."

I glance down at my own garment bag and unzip it. My costume is historically accurate with a long coat, structured vest, high boots, and a ruffled period shirt. It’s tasteful, practical, and safe.

Benji takes one look at me once I’m dressed and winces theatrically.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"I was hoping for a little more Pirates of the Caribbean." He circles me slowly, appraising. "And a little less documentary on Blackbeard."

"This is a perfectly respectable pirate."

"Not for two gays at a costume party. You look like you’re about to commandeer a ship and file proper paperwork about it."

"I look like a man with standards."

"You look like a man who owns a compass and strong opinions about maritime law."

"I do own a compass."