Xavier's Way by Diana Dericci

Author:Diana Dericci [Dericci, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781936751044
Amazon: B004GHND16
Barnesnoble: B004GHND16
Goodreads: 9945965
Publisher: Etopia Press
Published: 2010-12-14T07:00:00+00:00

Jordan cleared his throat, stating firmly, “Xavier, you’re straight.”

He shook his head. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

Jordan groaned and determinedly got his friend’s sexy ass into bed. You

are definitely drunk, straight or not, and I don’t do that to my friends.

Chapter Nine

“Son of a bitch!” Xavier pitched his jeans out of his hands like they were

on fire. “Where is it?”

He’d found his keys on the dresser, with a note from Jordan that his

truck was still at the office. Xavier was to call him if he wanted a ride to pick it up.

If he could only find his God damned phone!

Call it! He snapped his fingers. Of course! If someone had it, he needed it

back. If it was in the house, he’d hear it.

He jumped across his bed, landing with a small bounce and a breathy

oomph to snatch the phone off the bedside table. It began to ring in his ear.

Please, someone, find it.

“Xavier Santos’s phone.”

“Jordan?” That took him by surprise. Jordan had his phone?

“Hey, buddy. Sorry. I found it in the car this morning.”

He heaved a sigh of utter relief, plunking to his back on the bed. “Thank

God! I’ve been going nuts.”

“Want me to swing by and pick you up?”

“I’m not on your way.”

“I took the day off.”

For me? was his first thought, but he quickly shook it loose. Of course

not. He had no idea how much of last night had actually happened, or if it

had been a dream. The firm feeling of Jordan beneath him, Jordan’s arms

around him. Stolen kisses. He was trying to figure out if he was ready to find

out. He rubbed a hand over his beard rough jaw. “Yeah. You or a cab.”

“Screw that. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good.”

He hung up and jumped off the bed to hurry through a shower, aware

he’d slept almost fully clothed. He took the time to double gargle. Waking up

with the receding dullness of a hangover headache for the second time in less

than a week was a record for him.

“Teach you to not do it, too, moron,” he scolded his mirror’s reflection in

the bathroom. Thank God for Jordan. He’d taken him to get drunk, stayed

with him to make sure he didn’t overindulge for the fun ride to the ER, then

got him home and into bed. The man was golden.

Xavier caught his stare in the still-foggy mirror and winced. Death

warmed over, in person! He yanked open the medicine cabinet, plucking out

the eye drops. Blinking a minute later, his eyes began to feel and look better.

“Now at least you don’t look like you’re hung over, almost.” He finished

shaving, then whirled into his closet to jump into clothes. Jordan would be

there any minute.

He was hastily buttoning his shirt when it hit him. He was rushing,

dressing well, making himself look good, for Jordan. His butt found the edge

of his bed as the truth grew too large to ignore.

“Shit,” he breathed, shell-shocked. For Jordan. “Wow.” It took a few

minutes for it all to sink in.

Numbly, he stood and faced his reflection in the mirror over his dresser,

his hands markedly slower as he talked to himself.

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