“I’m thinking of ordering this book.” Colby, sitting at the kitchen counter, swung a foot, poked at his laptop, peeked over the screen at Jason. Felt his heart soften, as usual. Jason, here in his kitchen—their kitchen. Their house, the house they’d found and fallen in love with and bought together. Assembling pumpkin chili ingredients in the slow cooker for later. Framed by streamers of rainfall and wide windows and the scent of cinnamon-spiced coffee.
That thrill raced down his spine at the sight of those broad shoulders, those competent hands. Always did. Every time.
Jason set down the paprika and turned his way. “Why wouldn’t you? If you want it.” He even came over and leaned down for a kiss, nuzzling reassurance into the corner of Colby’s mouth, the spot under Colby’s jaw, the line
