His Christmas Pride by Renée Dahlia

Author:Renée Dahlia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing

Chapter 9

Sam tried to ignore the way his hand tingled from Mick’s touch. Chatting with Celia actually eased his concerns about the Marandowie grapevine. People were already talking about him; he may as well give them something concrete to talk about. Another waiter arrived with their drinks, and Mick lifted his hand to take his lemon, lime and bitters.

‘Cheers. Here’s to a nice evening out, to our friendship, and the exploration of more.’ Mick winked at him, and Sam had to pinch his lips together to stop spluttering out a laugh.

‘Right back at you with your fancy pub squash.’ He picked up his beer and clinked his glass with Mick. Sam sipped his beer slowly, unsure about what to say next. Talking to Mick was always easier online when he couldn’t see him. Why was it he always got tongue-tied around Mick’s handsome face?

‘I don’t, by the way.’

Sam put his beer down. ‘You don’t, what?’

‘I don’t believe that being bisexual makes someone automatically a cheater.’

The tension in Sam’s shoulders started to relax. ‘Thank you.’ He hadn’t broached the subject with Mick, or Lizzy, or anyone, but he was glad it had come up, because it would be a deal-breaker in a relationship over the long term. His spine stiffened—long term? Yes, that was what he wanted with Mick, which was why this was important to him. They might have only met IRL a few times but each time reinforced their online friendship with an extra kick of lust.

‘The stereotype makes no sense to me,’ Mick said. ‘Unless people assume that every time someone appreciates another person, then they are cheating. Is it cheating when I say a bloke is well-built, or hot as heck, or has an amazing aesthetic? No. I don’t think so. Why should the gender of the person you notice make any difference? It shouldn’t.’

‘Um, wow. Yes, obviously I agree with you.’

Mick smiled, his eyes full of warmth. ‘But?’

‘I didn’t quite expect the detailed defence.’ The gentle buzz in his veins—always present when he was near Mick—started to increase, and he was sorely tempted to abandon their dinner and drag Mick home to his bed. The instinct made him pause because that was exactly how he’d messed up in the past. At the risk of boring himself with his own repetitiveness, he needed to take his time. Celia saved him from further speech by arriving with the oysters.

‘Oysters four ways; we have natural, with mignonette sauce, with tarragon butter, and lastly Christophe’s special cucumber and watermelon relish.’

Sam hummed appreciatively under his breath. ‘They look amazing.’

‘Shall I give you some time to indulge, or are you ready to order?’ Celia asked.

Sam didn’t want her to come back to their table again; he’d rather spend his time with Mick without constant interruptions. ‘What do you recommend? I’ll have that.’

‘You could try our degustation?’

‘Your what?’ Trust a Frenchman to have a fancy name for his food. Sam would have to tease Christophe about it next time he saw him.

Celia spread her hands out in the air.

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