On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(49)

“Mm-hmm. Well, now I’m glad I didn’t take you up on it, if they’re that bad.”

“They are. Here.” He slid the bowl closer to Jason. “And there’s more than enough for seconds and leftovers, so have as much as you want.”

“Thanks.”

They moved into the living room. Jason set his soup bowl on the armrest beside a box of tissues and a bag of eucalyptus drops, and Blake balanced his on his knee.

Jason carefully blew on a spoonful, then tried it. After he’d swallowed it, he coughed a couple of times. “Jesus H. Christ.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You weren’t joking about it being spicy.”

“At least I warned you. The first time my mom made it, she told me it was ‘a bit strong.’”

“I suppose it’s ‘a bit strong’ in the same sense that the Thames is ‘a bit dirty.’” He coughed again. “I don’t think there will be any blowjobs occurring in this house tonight.”

Blake laughed. “I didn’t think there would be anyway. Not with you feeling like that.”

Jason sighed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“This f*cking microbe ought to explain itself, though . . .”

“I think the drugstore carries the Neti Pot if you want to try waterboarding it.”

His eyes widened. “Uh . . . no. That’s okay.”

“No sense of adventure whatsoever.”

“Not when it comes to that, no.” Jason met his gaze, and they both chuckled. He swallowed some more of the soup. “Thank you again. I really do appreciate this.”

Blake patted his leg. “You wouldn’t be sick if I hadn’t brought you on that flight.”

“No, but I think we were both looking forward to something a bit . . . healthier.”

“It’s all right.” He smiled. “You’re still good company.”

They locked eyes again, and Jason returned the smile, but didn’t say anything.

After they’d finished, Blake took the dishes back into the kitchen, and then settled beside Jason once more. They pulled a blanket up over their laps, and Blake wrapped his arm around Jason’s shoulders.

With his free hand, he picked up the remote. “So, any movie preference?”

Jason shrugged beneath Blake’s arm. “Not a porno, if it’s all the same to you.”

Blake laughed. “You’re no fun.”

Jason elbowed him playfully. “You can watch one if you’d like. I won’t guarantee I can do anything about the results, though.”

“Fair point. How about some comedy?”

“Comedy would be perfect.”

They scrolled through the movies Blake already owned, then went through what was available for download before finally agreeing on a couple of Adam Sandler movies. Not exactly high comedy, but stupid enough to keep them both entertained for the evening.

This was strangely domestic. Not very long ago, they’d been fooling around against his Lamborghini, negotiating orgasms and money as if there were an actual exchange rate between the two, and now . . . this. Sharing a blanket on the sofa, watching movies and eating his mother’s famous soup. Sex wasn’t on the table tonight—likely not for the next few nights—and Blake was okay with that.

More than okay with that, in fact. Though he didn’t dare say it out loud, the truth was, Blake liked this arrangement. He would have preferred for Jason to be healthy and not so miserable, but there was something to be said for curling up in front of the TV with someone like this. Though he never wanted for anything in the bedroom these days, it had been a long time since he’d scratched this particular itch.

And no matter how much he rationalized it in his mind, he couldn’t make himself believe Jason was fulfilling his role as an escort, providing company in exchange for money. Maybe that was the deal on his end, but for Blake? Not even close. He couldn’t imagine sitting here like this with anyone else.

It wasn’t company he wanted right then. It was Jason.

So what the hell do I do when he flies home?





The universe had a hell of a sense of humor, as did Jason’s immune system. His flu stubbornly hung in there until the day before he was flying home. Blake really couldn’t justify taking any additional time off work, and Jason needed to get back to Market Garden, so rescheduling wasn’t an option. They’d just have to wait until Blake returned to London again.

Fortunately for Jason, he was very much on the upswing by the time they had to head to the airport. Still exhausted and dragging his feet, still a bit pale, but his sinuses—and most importantly, his ears—were clear enough to fly without wanting to hurl himself out the nearest exit.

As Blake was finishing up his coffee, Jason came into the kitchen with his small suitcase in tow. His heart sank—yeah, it was time.

“You want another coffee before we go?”

Jason shook his head. “Thank you, no. I’m hoping to sleep in the air.”

“Good plan.” Blake plucked a set of keys off the rack. “We’ll take the Land Rover. More room for luggage, and I’m less likely to deck someone if they ding the door while we’re unloading.”

“Precisely how many vehicles do you need, anyway?”