Food for Thought Read Online Free Page A

television to catch up with when we’re done with that.”
    “You didn’t watch any of our shows when I was gone?” Emmett looked over his shoulder, appalled. “I was hoping you’d catch me up!”
    “Boyfriend, I don’t watch any shows without you. Now motor and change, me and Granny B. have some catching up to do.” He flicked Emmett down the hallway to his irritated cat with an elegant gesture of his wrist and fingers, and Emmett had to fight the urge to just stare at his long, pretty hands.
    Everything about Keegan was long and pretty… or, well, as far as Emmett knew.
    Emmett padded into his room and sniffed. Yup. Kitty done made a cat-cake somewhere. Ducking under the bed, Emmett was met with a pair of wide green eyes and a black paw, batting at him halfheartedly. And there, to the left, oh yeah. A nice pile, right on…
    “Oh hell,” Emmett muttered.
    “What?” Keegan called down the hall.
    “Christine left some laundry here the last time we went out. She wanted to change into something nice to go dancing.”
    “So?”
    “The cat shit on her work shirt.” How had it even gotten down there?
    “Hahahahahahahahaha….”
    “You’re gonna blow something if you laugh that hard!” Emmett shouted back. Gingerly he pulled out the Disney’s Princesses T-shirt with the big steaming pile of George’s best in the middle. Hell. He was going to have to replace this. He glared at George. “You are a bad kitty!” he admonished. George showed her concern by licking her ass. “ Bad kitty.”
    Keegan was still laughing his own ass off in the living room when Emmett shoved the T-shirt in the trashcan and hopped in the shower. He came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, and Keegan was sitting on his bed, bare feet propped up on the footboard, leafing through the cookbook.
    “Boyfriend, you’ve got some serious shit in here,” Keegan said thoughtfully. “Food for courtship, food for thought—do they have anything in here about getting good straight boys out of the closet?”
    Emmett had been rustling through his underwear drawer and he accidentally looked up. Keegan was looking at him appreciatively, challenge in his eyes.
    “Uhm, I didn’t see anything,” he mumbled, looking away. “You’ve had more time to look than I have.”
    “I see a shortbread recipe that maybe I couldn’t fuck up, and a recipe for something called beet porridge—”
    Emmett suddenly forgot he was trying not to undress in front of Keegan any more than possible. “I saw that too. It said it was for—”
    “Clarifying things,” Keegan said, a half smile on his face. “Yeah, I saw that. Why? You want things made clear?”
    Emmett remembered his self-consciousness. He turned around, found his briefs, a pair of cargo shorts, and a tank Keegan had bought him wholesale when his store had turned the stock over. It was blue—Keegan was forever buying him blue things—because blue apparently made his eyes look bluer.
    “Yeah,” Emmett mumbled. “You know, ever since my dad….”
    “Yeah,” Keegan said quietly. “Your dad and Jordyn. I know, baby. No, don’t go into the bathroom and change. I promise, I won’t look, and even if I look, I won’t touch.”
    Emmett kept his back turned and tried to squelch the little hope that Keegan would look. He probably wouldn’t. He was a nice guy.
    After school, Emmett had gotten the job at Intel and taken the money he made from selling his father’s house to buy this one. About two weeks after he’d moved in, he’d had that first bad moment. He’d woken up, excited about telling his father about buying the house, because it was Sunday, and he visited his dad on Sundays, right? And it wasn’t until he’d been stumbling around the kitchen, making coffee, that he saw the coffeemaker, and remembered—oh yeah. It was the one he’d gotten for his dad two years ago. And he’d kept it after Dad passed away.
    And it was Sunday, but Sunday eight months after Dad had