Rattling Chains (Bound to the Spirits Book 1) by T. Strange

Author:T. Strange [Strange, T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LGBT Romance Fiction
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2021-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

“Hey, Harlan!”

Harlan was pleased and relieved to hear the genuine pleasure in Charles’ voice when he answered the phone. “Hi, Charles.”

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Harlan laughed. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. More than fine. I’m just calling because, uh…well, because it’s not an emergency.” He hoped Charles would remember saying that and he didn’t just sound as weird as he usually did.

Charles answered with a soft chuckle of his own. “Well, I’m glad to hear from you.”

Harlan took a deep, steadying breath. He could do this. He’d already done the hard part and called Charles. Now he just had to complete the next step in his plan. “I was wondering if you might like to…” Fuck. He’d practiced what he wanted to say over and over in his head, but now it felt like that practice was only making it more difficult to actually speak. “If you’d like to go for coffee?” he finally managed, turning a slight squeak at the end of the question into a cough.

“I’d like that. Well, maybe not coffee. I spend enough of my time shut away in a dark dungeon—literally—that I’d rather do something outside. And I think you could probably use some sunlight and fresh air, too.”

“Oh, o-okay…” Harlan scrambled to come up with something else. Shit. That threw all his ideas out of the window. He wasn’t really one to come up with outdoor activities. The outdoors couldn’t be ghost-warded.

His eyes widened. With Charles, they could be. This opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

“Sure. Yeah, I’d like that!” he bubbled. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas,” Charles said, a playful growl. “But if you’re asking me on a date…”

“I am,” Harlan confirmed, almost confidently, glad Charles wasn’t there to see him blush. God, that sound just went straight to his groin!

“How about a picnic?”

The little pessimistic voice that lived in Harlan immediately chimed in with, Ants. Ghosts. Ghost ants, but he pushed it aside. “That sounds lovely.”

“I keep bringing you food, but nothing I’ve actually made myself. I’m told I’m a pretty good cook.”

Shit. That probably meant that he expected… “Do you want me to bring anything?” Harlan asked reluctantly, mentally already searching, How do I pretend I made something store bought?

“Just you.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. How does Monday or Tuesday sound? Those are my days off.”

Harlan bit his lip. “Lunch or dinner?”

“Whichever you prefer. Dinner Monday or lunch Tuesday are slightly better for me, so I can sleep in Monday, but I’m happy either way.”

Shit again. It wasn’t out of the question that he’d still be working at dinnertime, and they didn’t often take a formal lunch break. Hamilton brought something from home and ate on the go, and Harlan usually just skipped the meal entirely. “Dinner Monday,” he said, decisively.

“Great. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up? I know a great park—ducks, a pond, the whole shebang.”

Harlan couldn’t help grinning. “That sounds perfect.” He actually held the phone to his chest for a moment after they’d said goodbye.

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