A Full Plate E-Book

Kim Fielding

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 257

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Opposites come together for a spicy surprise. Bradford "Tully" Tolliver has everything—money, a great car, a beautiful condo, and a promising career as one of Portland's hottest young lawyers. Sure, he puts in long hours and has no social life to speak of, but who needs romance when corporations pay top dollar for his expertise? He hesitates when a colleague asks if her cousin can live with him, but the arrangement will last less than a year, and then the cousin—Sage Filling—will return to his tiny hometown. But Sage is handsome and intriguing, and his cooking makes Tully swoon. Sage has obligations back home, though, and Tully has offers he might not refuse from a persistent—and very wealthy—ex. Since Tully and Sage each have a full plate, can they make room for a side of love?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Blurb

Sneak Peek

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

About the Author | By Kim Fielding

Coming in May 2018

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

A Full Plate

By Kim Fielding

Opposites come together for a spicy surprise.

Bradford “Tully” Tolliver has everything—money, a great car, a beautiful condo, and a promising career as one of Portland’s hottest young lawyers. Sure, he puts in long hours and has no social life to speak of, but who needs romance when corporations pay top dollar for his expertise? He hesitates when a colleague asks if her cousin can live with him, but the arrangement will last less than a year, and then the cousin—Sage Filling—will return to his tiny hometown.

But Sage is handsome and intriguing, and his cooking makes Tully swoon. Sage has obligations back home, though, and Tully has offers he might not refuse from a persistent—and very wealthy—ex. Since Tully and Sage each have a full plate, can they make room for a side of love?

Tully rarely hugged anyone. Sage was warm and solid in his arms, his skin and hair smelling of herbs and spices. And Sage seemed in no hurry to end the embrace, clutching Tully tightly and even letting Tully bear a little of his weight.

Then they pulled back enough to capture each other’s gaze. Something sparked so suddenly and so hot that for a split second, Tully thought the stove might have caused a fire. But no—the only fire was smoldering within him.

And apparently within Sage as well.

The kiss was surprisingly sweet and tender, spiced with piri piri and cardamom and lavender. Sage wasn’t grabby. While they kissed, he kneaded his fingers gently into Tully’s shoulders as if he were dough that needed shaping. And Tully liked the feel of him, substantial and somehow… honest.

Then Sage backed up a few inches and gazed solemnly at him. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Chapter One

BRADFORD Tolliver knew something was up as soon as Carrie spoke.

She had a voice that echoed across the biggest courtrooms, carrying such an authoritative tone that even the most hesitant jurors would find themselves agreeing with her. So she shouldn’t have had a problem making herself heard as they sat in a bar packed with people freshly released from their offices and eager to jumpstart the weekend.

But when Carrie spoke, he couldn’t catch her mumbled words. She wouldn’t meet his eyes either, which was another bad sign. Carrie didn’t back down from anyone. Yet here she was, sitting right next to him at a table and evidently fascinated by her moscow mule.

Tully glared at her. He wasn’t as effective at it as she was, although he wasn’t bad. More than a decade of negotiating contracts had taught him well, and strong men quailed before his steely gaze. Carrie was usually immune, but now she ignored his look and stared resolutely at her copper mug.

“What is it, Carrie?”

She glanced up at him and tried a smile. “I need a favor.”

“I am not working on the Harrington case. I don’t care how sweetly you ask me or what you promise me in return.”

“It’s not a case I need help with. It’s something personal. And Harrington’s not so bad. Overconfident and pushy, maybe. I’ve certainly dealt with worse.” She gave him a sidelong look. “You just don’t want his case because you slept with him.”

“Once. I slept with him once, and it was two years ago, and that’s not the point. He’s an entitled, self-centered, manipulative jerk, in bed and out.”

“But he’s kind of cute,” she replied, grinning wickedly.

“He’s not your type. Mine either, actually.” Tully wasn’t sure what his type was. Evidently not a zillionaire tech whiz who insisted his date windsurf on weekends.

He downed the last of his drink, a craft cocktail with tequila, cilantro, and a cutesy name he couldn’t remember. He wanted something stronger and more straightforward to fortify himself for Carrie’s request, whatever it might be. “Want anything?” he asked as he stood and gestured toward the bar in the center of the room.

“Yeah. Grab another dish of those wasabi almonds.”

Despite Tully’s wide shoulders and long legs, it took some effort to work his way through the crowd. It didn’t help that a good portion of the people wore messenger bags or expensive backpacks. He could forgive them a little Friday-evening exuberance since most of them would probably spend a chunk of the weekend chained to their laptops—as would he. But man, he wished they’d get out of his way.

Eventually he stood at the polished wood counter, and some vigorous arm-waving finally caught a bartender’s attention. The guy had a beard to make ZZ Top proud, and his plaid cuffs were rolled back to display impressive sleeve tats. “Whiskey, please. Best you’ve got. A double.”

While Tully waited, he considered what Carrie might want from him. Not money. He had some, but she had even more. Not only was her salary bigger than his, but her wife, Leah, was a cardiologist from a wealthy family. They had a fancy house in the hills, a weekend cabin at the coast, and a matching pair of Benzes. They weren’t exactly going hungry.

But if not money, what?

The realization hit him so hard he blinked. She wanted him to donate sperm so she or Leah could get knocked up. Made sense. They were both fortyish, their biological clocks undoubtedly ticking-tocking deafeningly. Tully would make a good donor. He was healthy, reasonably good-looking, and smart enough to graduate sixth in his law-school class and then land a junior partnership at a prestigious firm before his thirtieth birthday.

Tully had never given much thought to fatherhood. He’d always been too busy to settle down with a steady partner, let alone contemplate a kid. Maybe this was the way to go. He’d simply have to squirt in a cup, right? And then all the work of raising Junior would fall on the doting mothers. Tully could show up once in a while if Carrie and Leah wanted, maybe take the kid to the zoo. Buy the kid fun presents like camera drones and PlayStations.

That might be… kind of cool.

The bartender delivered a generous pile of green almonds in a small bowl and a glass of elixir that had undoubtedly been distilled in a golden bathtub within an enchanted castle in the West Hills. Tully tipped well—he might be wanting a refill soon.

Working his way back to the table without spilling nuts or drink was a challenge, but he made it successfully and plopped into his chair. Carrie grabbed the almonds, and he took a healthy swig—the stuff was smooth as silk—and mentally girded his loins. Or maybe, considering the circumstances, ungirded them.

“You can have my sperm,” he announced.

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“I’ll be happy to make a donation for you guys. Um, which of you plans to, uh, have the bun in the oven?” Not that it mattered. He imagined he’d make an interesting child with either of them.

“Oh. My. God. Are you saying you want to be our baby daddy?”

“Yeah, sure. We can work out the details of how involved you want me to be in his or her life. It’s best if I don’t draw up the contract myself, but we can ask Ramirez. She’s almost as good as me. And then we can—”

“I don’t want your love juice, Tully.”

“Oh.” He grabbed his glass and swallowed deeply.

He was disappointed—which was weird—and it must have shown, because Carrie rested a hand briefly on his arm. “That was really sweet and generous of you to offer. If we wanted rug rats, you’d make a spectacular donor. But we’re not exactly the maternal types, you know?”

He nodded. “Then what do you need?”

It was Carrie’s turn to seek a little liquid courage. She made a face, then slurped at the straw before speaking again. “My cousin Sage came to stay with us a couple weeks ago, but he and—”

“Sage?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s his name, okay? And he—”

“Wait. Wait. Does he have the same last name as you?”

“Yes. His dad was my dad’s younger brother.”

Tully almost choked on an almond. Then he was laughing so hard he could hardly speak. “Sage Filling? Really? Isn’t that something you put in a turkey at Thanksgiving?”

“Oh for God’s sake! What are you, twelve? And you’re hardly one to talk, Bradford, seeing as you’re named after a company that sells commemorative dishes.”

“Okay, fine. Your cousin Stuffing is here to visit, and…?”

“Not visit. He’s staying for a year or so—earning some money to help his family back home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Same place as me—lovely Hair Shaker, Oregon.” She grimaced and ate a handful of almonds.

Tully had heard Carrie’s stories, but he’d never had the pleasure of visiting her birthplace. It was located in one of those mostly empty spaces east of the Cascades and boasted considerably more sheep than humans, which explained some of the weird town names. She’d escaped the day after she graduated high school and had never looked back. Apparently her cousin hadn’t been so lucky.

“Not much of a job market in Hair Shaker, huh?” Tully asked.

“Hardly. Which is why he moved here. Since he’s trying so hard to save money, we don’t charge him rent.”

“That’s nice of you guys.”

She shrugged. “We have a couple extra bedrooms, so I figured no big deal. Plus he’s sort of been playing houseboy for us—keeping the place clean, mostly. Oh, and cooking. That’s what he does for a living; he works at a restaurant.”

“Sounds like a good deal all around.” Or maybe not. He’d been to Carrie and Leah’s house several times, and unless their maid service had visited recently, the place generally looked like the aftermath of a minor disaster. A couple of years ago, he’d gone over there to work on a case with Carrie. The state of the living room had grated on his nerves so badly that he’d eventually started straightening piles of books and paper and gathering dirty dishes. Carrie hadn’t been amused. After that, they met at his tidy condo if they needed to work after hours.

“Yeah,” Carrie said, “we all thought it sounded good too. But it’s not working out. Sage works late, and he tries to be quiet when he gets home, but Leah’s a light sleeper and super sensitive to noise. She has to get up early. Plus when they see each other, they argue. And let’s just say Sage isn’t going to convert to vegan cooking anytime soon.”

Tully snorted. Leah was one of those people who not only chose to eat a specific diet but loved to preach its wonders. Perhaps it was extremely healthy—as a cardiologist, she would know—but it tasted like gerbil food. Even Carrie periodically snuck bacon cheeseburgers for lunch.

Tully hadn’t had dinner yet, so he became momentarily lost in the thought of a burger and neglected to follow the conversation to its logical conclusion. As a result, he was dumbstruck by Carrie’s next question.

“So can he move in with you?”

“I— What?”

“You have extra bedrooms. You’re hardly ever home. You sleep like the dead. And you’re fully omnivorous.”

“But—”

“It’s only for a year. Well, eleven months. He lasted four weeks with us. And he’s eager to get back to Hair Shaker as soon as he’s paid off some debts.” She shook her head, clearly boggled that anyone would voluntarily return. Then she grinned. “And he’s a good cook. Wouldn’t it be great if someone actually used that fancy kitchen of yours?”

Tully had never learned how to cook as a boy and didn’t have time for it when he grew up. If pressed, he could heat something from a can or manage boxed mac and cheese. On a really good day, he could boil an egg. Mostly he relied on restaurants, takeout, and the grocery store deli counter. He downed the rest of his whiskey and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t do roommates.”

“Right. You are the lone wolf, constantly surveying his high-rise territory and battling with claw and fang anyone who dares to trespass.”

“Hah. I like to think I’m more of a jungle cat, actually. Lithe and sleek, looking down at his prey from the treetops.”

“Whatever, Bagheera.” She leaned in and captured him with a pleading gaze across the table. “Look. He’s a nice guy and his family’s been through some rough times lately. His dad—my late uncle Doug—helped pay my way through college, so I owe a pretty big favor. Help me with this and I’ll owe you the favor instead. At least try it out for a couple weeks. If it’s a disaster, we can figure something else out. Please?”

And the thing was, Tully was the cat that walked by himself. Always had been. He liked being that cat. But Carrie was a good friend who never asked for anything.

He narrowed his eyes. “Two-week trial period. I have the option to rescind this agreement at any time and without prior notice. I also have the option to amend this agreement at any time without prior notice. If Cousin Sage turns out to be an asshole, this agreement is immediately null and void.”

Smiling widely, she held out a hand with wasabi-flecked fingers. “You drive a hard bargain, Counselor.”

They shook, her grip as firm as his. Then he pointed toward the bar. “Next round’s on you.”

Chapter Two

IF he’d had any spare time on Saturday, Tully would have regretted being so agreeable. But he woke up at first light and, slight hangover notwithstanding, went down to the building’s gym. He had the place to himself and put in a long run on the treadmill as he stared out at the Willamette River and thought about the work he needed to finish before Monday. He headed back up to his condo, showered quickly, and sat down on the couch with his computer in his lap and coffee and a protein bar nearby.

His living room furniture was expensive and comfortable but spare. Only a few big pieces and a couple of smaller ones. Minimalist décor let the floor-to-ceiling windows serve as the primary ornament. He was sitting on the couch with the best view, so when he glanced up from his laptop, he saw Portland’s high-rises in one direction and, in the other, bridges arching across the stretch of gray river.

But for the remainder of that Saturday morning, he glanced up rarely. He focused instead on the intricacies of COBRA requirements as they applied to an early termination agreement. One client, a large tech firm, had decided to lay off a bunch of local employees and send the work to India. Much cheaper in the long run, even if they had to pay out some large severance packages as a result of breaking employment contracts.

Was this what he had dreamed of years ago as he diligently applied to law schools? No. Back then he’d pictured himself fighting valiantly for justice—a superhero with a suit and briefcase instead of spandex and a cape. But he’d soon learned that fighting for justice paid peanuts. Barely enough to cover the student loans he’d unexpectedly been forced to take on. The real money was in corporate law, so that was where he’d ended up. It was important work. If he screwed up, the client could be liable for millions. And the job—plus a surprise inheritance—allowed him to afford that very expensive view.

He was partway through drafting a memorandum when his phone buzzed. It was Su-ji, the weekend day concierge. Mr. Filling is here to see you.

Tully stared at the text in confusion for a moment, wondering why Carrie was here and when Su-ji had become so careless in her texting. Then he remembered the discussion at the bar.

Crap.

Send him up, please.

Really, Tully wanted to order Su-ji to send the guy away. But Tully wasn’t the type to back out of an agreement, even if it was only a handshake deal. And definitely not when it was a promise to a friend.

He didn’t have to be happy about it, though. When his doorbell chimed less than a minute later, Tully walked over and opened it with a scowl.

Sage appeared to be somewhere in his early to mid thirties—around the same age as Tully. He was as tall as Tully too but heavier. Neither fat nor musclebound, but… substantial. His sandy-colored hair was bleached lemon yellow near the tips and arranged in a neat, short cut. Stubble darkened his jawline and upper lip, and his eyes were a warm hazel. He wore jeans, and a T-shirt with a faded Coors logo. A battered suitcase and khaki duffel bag lay at his booted feet. Sage was handsome, dammit, which Tully hadn’t expected.

“Uh, did I come at a bad time?”

Realizing he’d been staring like an idiot, Tully shook his head. “No. Sorry.” He stuck out his hand. “Bradford Tolliver. Tully.”

Sage had big hands, rough with calluses. “Sage Filling. Obviously.” He smiled uneasily and, as soon as their handshake ended, rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just gonna—”

“Come on in.” Tully picked up the suitcase, waited for Sage to enter with the duffel, and then shut the door.

But Sage stopped in the small entryway. “Are you sure this is okay? Carrie can come on awful strong. It’s real hard to say no to her.”

“I’ve noticed. Was she always like that, or was it law school that ruined her?”

Sage had one of those crooked, boyish grins that never failed to make Tully a little weak in the knees. Tully had once spent time staring into a mirror, trying to cultivate a similar smile. But he ended up looking either demented or evil, so he gave it up. He had the feeling Sage came by his grin naturally.

“Carrie’s always been bossy,” Sage said. “When we were little, she ended up in charge of everyone at the kids’ table. She was class president every year too. I’m five years younger, and the teachers were still talking about her when I came along.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah. So, y’know, if she strong-armed you into this, I can figure something else out.”

Something else like what? Tully wanted to ask. If Sage had to pay Portland-area rent, he wouldn’t have any money left to send home to Hair Shaker. Tully didn’t want to be responsible for ruining the guy’s life.

“It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind. My place is pretty big.” Then he realized that it wasn’t exactly welcoming to have this conversation while huddled in the foyer, so he led the way into the living room. He waved his free arm. “See? It’s too big for one person, actually.”

Duffel still over his shoulder, Sage clomped to the windows and whistled when he got there. “Holy cow. Hell of a view.”

“Carrie and Leah have a good view too.” Their house was perched on stilts, which always made Tully slightly nervous. People kept saying that one of these days a big quake was going to hit the Pacific Northwest. Of course, he didn’t know if his building was any more tremorproof than their house, but at least the high-rise looked substantial.

Sage was still gazing through the glass. “Yeah. But yours is more close up to city stuff. Up in the hills, sometimes I could almost forget I was in a city. The view’s almost like a painting, you know? It’s real here. I can make out the model of every car going over those bridges.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Dunno.” Sage turned his head to look at Tully, then turned back. “Your apartment’s closer to work. I can walk from here. Saves me gas money. Uh, Carrie said to ask you about parking.”

“Where are you parked now?”

“Metered spot down the street.”

“Well, let’s finish the tour and get you settled before you get a ticket. I have a space downstairs you can use.”

“It won’t put you out?”

His condo had originally been two smaller units. Someone had torn down the wall and made one big unit, which meant Tully got double the space, plus double the parking and double the storage in the basement. “No, it’s fine. I have an extra.”

There was that grin again. “Thanks, man.”

The condo had three bedrooms. Tully slept in the biggest one. The second one was, at least nominally, an office, although he preferred to work on the living room couch. The office contained a large expensive desk and several bookcases but no bed. That left the third bedroom for Sage. Tully called it the guest room even though no guest had used it yet. It was at the opposite end of the condo from the master bedroom, which was probably good for both privacy and peace.

“You have your own bathroom,” Tully said as he set the suitcase on the floor beside the bed. “Not much in the way of furniture, though.”

Sage looked around and shrugged. “All I need is a bed and a place for my clothes. This is great.”

“Okay, good. Want to see the rest of the place?”

They almost bumped into each other when they reached the doorway, which led to a slightly awkward shuffle. Sage finally stopped the dance with a hand on Tully’s arm and a wave toward the door. “After you,” he said, smiling.

“I’m gay.”

They both gaped in surprise at Tully’s abrupt—and wholly unintentional—announcement. Then Tully winced and broke the silence. “Did Carrie mention that? It’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“I didn’t have a problem with Carrie and Leah being gay.”

“Yeah, but they’re women. I’m, um, not.”

Sober-faced, Sage shook his head. “We’ve heard of gay men in Hair Shaker. Might even have a few. I don’t think I’ll be too scandalized to function.”

Tully felt like an asshole for seeming to imply that Sage was too much of a hick to be open-minded. Yet he blundered onward. “I might have guys over sometimes. For sex.” Which was a bit of an exaggeration since he didn’t hook up often, and when he did, he didn’t bring his dates home. And it was also one of the most idiotic declarations he’d ever made.

The corners of Sage’s mouth twitched. “If you’re planning to do any kinky shit in the middle of the living room, leave a sock on the apartment doorknob and I’ll go away for a couple hours, okay?”

“I’m not into kinky,” Tully mumbled.

“Well, all right, then.” Sage sighed. “Look, it’s your home and you’re doing me a huge favor. Your sex life is none of my business. Besides, I work nights, so I’ll probably never be around when you’re… getting busy.”

Tully nodded, then led them out of the bedroom and down the hall. He quickly showed Sage the office, the master bedroom, the half bath near the living room, and the laundry room. They ended up in the kitchen, where Sage gave another impressed whistle. “You could run a decent little restaurant from here.” He ran a hand over the granite countertop with the same reverence another man might stroke a sports car. “And Gaggenau appliances. Nice.”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“The condo came with them. I don’t really use them.”

Sage scrutinized him for a moment, then walked over to inspect the cooktop. “Carrie said you don’t cook much.”

“At all.”

After glancing at Tully as if asking for permission, Sage opened the refrigerator doors. “Man, you’ve got an eight-thousand-dollar fridge, and it’s empty.”

“There’s beer,” Tully responded, feeling defensive. “And condiments.”

“If you consider a bottle of yellow mustard a condiment, yeah.” Sage closed the doors and leaned back against a counter. “Maybe we oughtta be clear on the rules. What you do and don’t want me to do.”

Terms and conditions. Excellent. Tully was good at those. “Do you want me to write them down? An oral agreement’s usually not used for real estate transactions, but I think we can just—”

“You can just tell me.”

“Okay. Um, the bedroom and bathroom are all yours. Treat the rest of the condo as your home too, except my bedroom. I’ll get you a key and make sure the concierges know you live here. We’ll arrange parking. Oh, and there’s an access code for the gym and pool. Remind me to get that to you.”

“Pool?” Sage asked with a slight shake of his head.

“Yeah. It’s next to the gym. I think they keep the chlorine levels a little too high, but goggles can help if you’re sensitive.”

“Not much of a swimmer. But what do you want from me?” Sage sounded wary, as if he thought Tully might expect something unreasonable.

“I don’t know. Um, keep the noise down late at night. Maybe warn me if a girlfriend’s going to spend the night.”

Sage snorted. “No worries about that. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Tully shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find one. You’re a good-looking guy.” Oops. He hadn’t meant to say that. He forced a chuckle, as if he’d been making a joke, but Sage clearly didn’t buy it. He gave Tully a long considering look before glancing away.

“How do you want me to earn my keep?” Sage asked.

“You could do some light cleaning, I guess. I have a maid service, but they’re just once a month.”

“I can do that. Doesn’t look like you need it much, though.”

This time Tully’s laugh was genuine. “I’m a little neater than Carrie and Leah. But things still get dusty.”

“Got it. I’m your houseboy. You want me to cook too? That was supposed to be my deal with Carrie.”

“You wouldn’t mind? I mean, you cook at work, and—”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I love. Besides, I’m kinda jonesing to be set loose in your kitchen. I want to see what these babies can do.” He patted the stovetop fondly.

“Then it’s all yours.”

Sage looked delighted. “Perfect. I’ll usually be at work when you want to eat, so I’ll make meals ahead of time and give you instructions how to heat them. Won’t be as good as freshly made, but I guess it’s an improvement on yellow mustard and beer.” He squinted at Tully. “You do know how to work the oven and microwave, right?”

“I can manage.” The idea of having a home-cooked meal waiting for him at night was unexpectedly appealing. “How do you want to handle grocery shopping?”

It was Sage’s turn to laugh. “I think I’d better do that. Split the costs with me?”

“Done. But, um, I don’t have much in the way of… utensils.”

After raising his eyebrows, Sage started opening cupboards and peering inside. Judging from his groans, he wasn’t pleased with what he found—mostly a lot of empty space. “I’m not gonna be able to do much with this,” he said forlornly, a small frying pan in his hand.

“Give me a list of what you need, and I’ll order it,” Tully said. “At my expense,” he added when Sage looked hesitant.

“How much expense?”

“Whatever you think is necessary. Look, I’m probably going to save a fortune on restaurant and takeout bills, so….” He shrugged. The truth was, he’d rarely thought about money since his father died. If Tully wanted something, he could afford it.

Sage nodded, put the pan away, and closed the cupboard. “I’ll get you a list. And then I can start cooking.” He frowned. “You eat meat, right?”

Their earlier discussion about sex replayed in Tully’s head, and he blushed. Maybe Sage noticed, or maybe he remembered the conversation too, because he laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I’ll eat anything but poppy seeds. Really allergic to those.” He’d learned that the hard way during breakfast one morning—a nasty case of hives and a visit from some EMTs who’d saved him from complete anaphylaxis. Tully had never had the courage to visit that bagel shop again.

“I can work with that restriction,” Sage said.

Things felt awkward again—two strangers standing in a kitchen, surrounded by gleaming granite and stainless steel, the fridge humming softly in the background. Tully cleared his throat. “We’d better get you settled before you get a parking ticket.”

As it turned out, the details didn’t take long. Su-ji gave Tully a short form to fill out so the building managers would know that Sage was officially a resident. Then Tully showed him the gym and pool, which didn’t seem to interest Sage much, and the parking space, which did.

“Old Bessie’s gonna get spoiled,” he said.

“Who?”

Sage colored slightly. “My truck. The name’s a joke that stuck. I’ve always kept her outdoors.” He looked around at the other vehicles in the garage. Lots of luxury cars, some sports models, several fancy SUVs. Tully’s red Tesla was in the space next to Sage’s; an electrical outlet to charge the battery was one of the perks the building provided.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I park Bessie here? She’s not… fancy.”

“I don’t think we’ve instituted a dress code for the cars. Go ahead.”

After they were back upstairs, Tully reinstalled himself on the couch and returned to COBRA requirements. Sage spent some time in his bedroom, most likely unpacking, and then poked around in the kitchen for some time. He wasn’t noisy, but Tully heard the soft thump of the cupboards and the slight rattle of cookware. The sounds distracted him, but he wasn’t annoyed. In fact it was weirdly comforting to have someone else in his home.

Eventually Sage crept into the living room, a paper clutched in one hand. “Okay if I interrupt?”

Tully set the laptop aside and stretched without standing up. “Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t want to bug you.”

“Bug away.”

“Okay. I’m gonna shower and then head to work, but I wanted to get this to you first.” He walked closer and held out the paper. “The shopping list.”

Tully took it and glanced at the entries, few of which made sense to him. “It’s a long list.”

“Yeah.” Sage rubbed the back of his neck and looked as if he wanted to take the paper back. Then he shifted from one foot to the other. “I figure you’ve got the dough to afford it all, but if you don’t want—”

“It’s not the money. It’s just… a lot of items.”

“Aside from the large appliances, the only decent thing you’ve got in your kitchen right now is that espresso machine. That monster’s worth more than Old Bessie.”

“I, uh, like good coffee.” And the salesman with the Italian accent had been cute, so Tully had let him talk him into the most expensive machine in stock.