Page 91 of Cheap Heat

I couldn’t see my nuts thanks to the pumpkin head, but just knowing that they were hovering mere inches above a liquid that had, on several occasions, caused my friends to weep in agony made me sniffle.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I loosed a shaky exhale and tried to prepare myself. Long seconds later, I resolutely tightened my grip on the edge of the counter and lowered myself half an inch, then immediately stopped as I groaned weakly and shook my head.

Nope. Couldn’t do it.

A sudden sound from the hall had me snapping my head up, making my pulse spike. It almost sounded like a key in the lock. Before I could react, the door swung open. Ewen burst into my house with a baseball bat cocked over his shoulder and a panicked look on his face.

“Rafe?” he shouted, then stopped dead when he saw me through the doorway to the kitchen.

Naked and squatting over a bowl of hot sauce with a pumpkin on my dick.

His eyes grew wide. Speechless, he slowly lowered the bat until it hung limply from his hand as he stared at me in stunned silence.

I was too desperate to care about anything at this point.

“There’s a pumpkin stuck on my dick,” I told him in a small, shaky voice.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Billy Goat Creeps with Donkey Dicks

Dan

When I woke up on Thursday morning, I was determined to fix things with Rafe.

I needed to apologise to him. Explain what I’d been thinking, what I’d wrongly assumed, and tell him that I never would’ve left so soon if I’d known the other night was his first time with a guy.

I’d originally been planning on going into work early today, but I scrapped the idea when I peered outside and saw Rafe’s car still in his driveway. Restless energy made me jittery. I wanted to go over there now and get this sorted, but it was still pretty early. Didn’t want to piss him off even more.

I decided to take a shower while I waited, not sure why I was feeling the need to look my best when I went over there. After pulling on a pair of jeans that hugged my ass nicely and a tight blue T-shirt that I knew for a fact made my eyes pop, I went back downstairs and made a pot of coffee.

When I peered out the window, I couldn’t see any movement in Rafe’s kitchen, but there was a plain black carrier bag on the island. I could just about make out the open lid of a cardboard box poking out from the top of it.

I eyed it for a second with mild intrigue, then turned to grab a mug from the cupboard.

I was feeling weirdly nervous about going over there. I never got nervous.

It was just because I knew I’d fucked up so bad, I decided as I poured coffee into my cup. I hesitated, then grabbed another mug from the cupboard.

Rafe had seemed to soften a little that night I’d made him a hot cocoa. I could take him a nice cup of freshly brewed coffee to show him how sorry I was. And that I was a great neighbour, or at least was going to start making an effort to be one.

Except I didn’t actually know how he took his coffee. No, wait, I did—I’d seen him stirring creamer into it when I went to talk to Holt about Frank and Beans. But I didn’t have any creamer, because I took my coffee black. Shit.

I chewed anxiously on my lower lip, then decided I’d take it over anyway. He’d have his own creamer. The gesture still counted.

When I stepped out onto my front porch, carefully carrying the two steaming mugs, I noticed how sunny and warm it was today. Hopefully that meant Rafe would be in a more agreeable mood. He seemed like the type to become extra sullen when the weather was miserable. Not me, though. I didn’t let much bother me, so I certainly wasn’t going to let the weather do it.

I walked across my front yard to his, but paused when I glanced up and saw that his bedroom curtains were shut.

Was he still asleep? I’d assumed Rafe was an early riser. One to stick to a schedule—up at the same time every day.

I hesitated, looking down at the two cups of coffee. I had to get this right. Time it perfectly. Rafe was such a prickly thing that if he was just the slightest bit too tired, or stressed, or already annoyed when I tried to talk to him, I was pretty sure he’d stubbornly decide to ignore me forever and refuse to ever, ever waver from that decision.

My mouth tipped up into a tiny smile. His stubbornness was kind of cute. Well, it would’ve been if I hadn’t been the one on the proverbial chopping block.

“Good morning, Daniel!” I heard before I could make up my mind over what to do. Turning, I saw Mrs. Tupper, the elderly succubus who lived opposite, shuffling across the street toward me in her gardening clogs.

“Good morning, ma’am,” I said with a smile.