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“Does it matter?”
“No,” he admitted. “Probably not.”
Valerio held my mitten-covered hand, and was already yanking me in the general direction. In turn I pulled Kade, who was on my other arm.
Damn, this is fun!
It wasn’t only fun, it was outright gorgeous! Though I’d dipped into Toronto a few times before — as anyone from Buffalo had — I’d never realized how beautiful this city could be. Especially now, all decked out for the holidays, it seemed almost too good to be true.
“We should probably get something to eat too, no?” asked Brock. “I mean after all—”
“Bah,” Kade spat. “Eating’s overrated.”
The past few days had been almost surreal — a non-stop flurry of working and sweating and screwing each other’s brains out. Of pouring and polishing, cutting and buffing. Of seeing the guys sweat so hard they were literally peeling their shirts off, silhouetted against the beautiful orange glow of molten metal…
… right before I stripped down and jumped on them.
Of course they often jumped me too, right in the middle of whatever we happened to be doing. It got so bad we were screwing more at the foundry than at the actual hotel suite. And believe me, there was more than enough actionthereto go around.
Eventually though, we finished what we’d set out to do. Today marked the last day of our trip, and all the work had been done. The foundry had been spotlessly cleaned, the key returned, the owner thanked with a gift basket and a very nice bottle of wine. We had one last night at our hotel suite, and this was it. Tomorrow morning it would be straight back home to prepare for the show.
“Does it have whipped cream?” Kade asked abruptly. “I hate whipped cream.”
The weather had cooperated, at least so far. Right now it was all frosty and cold to the point we could see our breath every time we exhaled. The lingering threat of snow hung in the air however, like a secret promise.
“Who the hell hates whipped cream?” I chuckled.
“This guy,” Kade said, jerking his thumb. “That’s who.”
We reached the booth, which had everything from hot cider to cold beer. Sure enough, the Loaded Hot Chocolate came complete with a full swirl of the thickest whipped cream in all of North America. It was also sprinkled with your choice of chocolate shavings or crushed candy cane.
“Think we’ll beat the storm tomorrow?” I asked, probably for the third time.
“Yes!” the guys all said in unison.
“Because if we don’t… and something happens between here and the show—”
I was nervous. Probablytoonervous. But considering my track record when it came to stuff like this, I couldn’t be blamed.
“We’ll plow the road ourselves if we need to,” Brock told me reassuringly. “But trust us. We’ll get you back home tomorrow no matter what the weather looks like.”
I nodded happily, just as Valerio reached out and swiped a chunk of whipped cream from the tip of my nose. He put his finger in his mouth and licked it, sexily.
“So this exhibit you’re showing at…” Kade asked, as we made our way back into the crowd. “Is it a formal thing?”
“Meaning do I have to get all dressed up?” I smiled. “Yes. I have something all picked out.”
“That sounds fun,” Valerio smirked. “The undressing part, I mean. When you get home with all the ribbons and stuff.”
“There aren’t any ribbons!” I laughed.
“Medals?”
“No, silly,” I told him. “It’s just an exhibit. There’ll be art lovers, critics, other artists. But buyers will be there too.”
“So who are you bringing?”
“Hmm?”
