Hottest Heat Wave

Heat Wave: Newark by Drew Hunt-7

“This will give me gas,” Ben grumbled, looking balefully down at his bowl of soup.

Aaron laughed. “No it won’t.”

“It’s a small cab and an even smaller bed.”

Aaron grinned. He knew that very well. There wasn’t much room on a twin mattress when you were sharing it with a three hundred pound bear. Ben had earlier offered to pull down the spare bunk bed, but Aaron swiftly rejected that idea. He wanted/needed up close with Ben. “It’ll be fine. Now, come on, eat it while it’s hot.”

Aaron was no expert in nutrition, but hopefully the protein from the strips of chicken, kidney beans, and corn would help keep Ben’s hunger in check.

Ben picked up his spoon and gingerly took his first taste. “This isn’t too bad,” he said, smiling over at Aaron through the steam rising from his bowl.

“That’ll be the cumin and the green chilies.” There were also red and green bell pepper.

“Don’t I get any bread with this?”

“Cutting down on the carbs, remember?” So as not to draw attention to himself, Aaron had ordered a small chicken salad. He planned on giving Ben half of it if the big man ate all the soup and still looked hungry.

Although the food was holding most of Ben’s attention, he brought up the subject, again, of Aaron paying for the meal.

“Like I said, you paid for the gas, uh, diesel to get me here.”

“And like I said, I was coming here anyway.”

“No talking with your mouth full.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Ben finished his soup and Aaron pushed across his own plate. “Don’t like the dressing,” he lied.

Turned out Ben wasn’t overly fond either, although it took him until the last bite to decide.

Then Ben’s eyes immediately fell upon the bowl of cut up fruit that Aaron had ordered for him. The waiter had looked somewhat bemused when Aaron had given precise instructions on how the fruit should be prepared.

“This is awesome,” Ben said, spoon digging deep into the bowl. “The honey and fruit juice makes all the difference.”

“I may not know a whole lot, but I do know that bears like honey.”

Ben grunted, shook his head, and carried on eating.

“Got the idea from of all things a western gay romance story.”

Ben raised an eyebrow but kept on shovelling.

“Yeah, I know?” In a curious echo of Aaron’s own situation, the chief protagonist in the story was British and was travelling around the States before flying home. However, unlike Aaron, that guy had picked up two cowboys and became their ranch cook and lover. Aaron couldn’t cook and thought one trucker bear dressed in a western shirt beat two cowboys any day.

“You don’t want dessert?” Ben asked, bowl less than half full now.

“I plan on eating my dessert back in the cab.” Aaron licked his lips suggestively.

Ben went an attractive shade of red, a slice of honey-glazed apple falling off his spoon. “Damn it!” Ben dropped his spoon and plucked the offending piece of fruit off his chest. “This was my last clean shirt,” he said, wiping at the sticky spot with his napkin.

“Told you you should have left it unbuttoned. Would have made for a quick, tasty, and enjoyable clean up.” Aaron licked his lips once again.

Ben’s blush returned. “Knock it off!”