Setting for Eight, Dinner for Two by B.G. Thomas

Author:B.G. Thomas [Thomas, B.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-786-5
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2019-09-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

WELL. I’LL be. I’m not half as bad at this as I thought I’d be.

To Charlie’s amazement, it really wasn’t that hard. The berries stood out perfectly, even though the ceramic napkin rings were what Tory called “bisqueware,” which was very white.

Charlie was detail-oriented after all.

And it was kind of fun. He didn’t think he’d want to do more than nine of them—couldn’t imagine doing hundreds of them the way Tory must do—but nine? Sure. Even with five coats.

Gay was laughing and holding court as she painted Gay and Alejandro Snowman. But Charlie tried to stay focused. He really wanted to do a good job. Not only because he wanted the rings to be as close to perfect as possible for his dining room table, but he wanted to impress Tory as well. He didn’t know why.

He was done surprisingly fast, though. A little over an hour, and apparently Gay wasn’t even close to ready to go, although Shirley—she who painted with a heavy brush—was long gone.

So wanting to be around Tory as long as he could—damn he wanted to touch that almost-beard so badly…. Would it be soft? Scratchy?—Charlie looked over Tory’s shelves and shelves of clay pieces and greenware and….

…found something completely different. There were several pieces drying that didn’t look at all like typical dime-store pottery. Pieces that certainly didn’t look poured.

“Tory, if you don’t mind me asking, what are these?” He pointed but did not touch. They looked delicate. Gorgeous as well. Pottery that looked more like sculpture than something that could store sugar or flour or display flowers.

And gosh, was Tory blushing?

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Tory said with a wave.

“To hell it is! These are beautiful!” The pieces seemed to fold in on themselves, like a special effect from a science fiction movie.

Gay was at his elbow, with an, “Aren’t they amazing? This is what Tory really does!”

“Oh my God,” Charlie cried, remembering. “That piece I love so much in your office.” A weaving of sheets and strips of clay, glazed in coopers and golds.

“Yup!” she exclaimed. “That’s his!”

“Tory! If you can do work like this, why are you wasting your time on nativity scenes?”

“Because nativities pay the bills. And unless I make a name for myself—”

“When you make a name for yourself,” Gay interrupted.

“—nativities are what I need to focus on.”

“Well, I hope you make that name soon,” Charlie said. And thinking about Tory’s name made him feel all warm inside. And wanting to help Tory pay his bills, he turned back to the elves on shelves and picked out one.

“Is this where you get them each year?” he asked Gay.

“From Tory, yes! But even I don’t have a steady enough hand for those eyes. I buy his completed pieces.”

Whoa. The eyes would be hard.

“I can help you if you want,” Tory offered, and Charlie smiled at the thought of owning a piece that both he and Tory had painted.

It was nice when Tory leaned over his shoulder, chest touching his back, to demonstrate that using more than one color on the elf’s hair made it look more natural.

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