The Making of Matt (Souls of the Knight 3)

“We’ve gotten off track,” Ryder said. “What I’m trying to say is Alex doesn’t need fireworks and diamonds to make him feel special. He’s a simple guy who likes simple things. He knows, hell everyone knows, that you’ve probably fucked more puppies than the number of times you’ve used your kitchen. So-”

“That happened once and it wasn’t my fault.”

“So the…wait, what?”

“I woke up and it was licking my dick! I’m not some kind of dog rapist.”

“What the hell?”

“Isn’t that what you were referring to?”

“No. I just made up an analogy. Assuming you’d never actually fucked a puppy and yet it was still more times than you’d used a kitchen appliance. It’s not funny now I’ve had to explain it.”

“Not true, either.”

“So you have fucked a puppy?”

“No, fuckwad, I have not fucked a goddamn puppy. Or any other animal for that matter. Unless you count that French chick backstage in Chicago.” I shuddered at the memory. “She had more hair on her nipples than my grandfather. She smelt like him, too.”

“So why’d you have sex with her?”

I shrugged. “Any hole’s a goal. At least it was back then. Anyway what I meant was, I have used my kitchen. Just last week in fact.”

“Oh yeah?” Genuine surprise widened Ryder’s eyes.

“I made pasta. There’s some on the ceiling above the couch if you need proof.”

“Why the hell is there…you know what, I don’t even wanna know. Let’s screw the analogy, my point is you’re a shite cook.” I opened my mouth to protest but closed it again, knowing he was right. “So the fact you’ve gone to the effort of making something for Alex, even something as simple as a sandwich, will blow him away. I’ll help you with the rest. I make a mean potato salad.”

“I’m gonna need one of those baskets with plates and shit in the lid. And blankets. Oh, shit, and a tent. I need a tent. How the fuck do you put up a tent?”

Draining the last of his drink, Ryder put down his glass again and jumped to his feet. “I’m on it.”

“Shouldn’t I come, too?”

“If you do it will take twice as long. We haven’t got time to stop for photos and all that jazz if we’re going to get everything set up in time. But don’t worry, I’ll take you in spirit…through your credit card.”

Nodding, I teased my wallet from my back pocket and handed it to him. “I’ll just stay here then and moisturize my sore balls.”

“Really? We still on that?”

“We’ll be on that until I’ve exacted my revenge, motherfucker.”

Laughing, Ryder pulled on his baseball cap, the visor covering the back of his neck, and walked back into the house.

“Oh and Ry?” I called. Holding onto the sliding door, he craned his neck into the outside air. “Thank you.”

“Just call me Cupid,” he said, winking before disappearing from sight.

When Ryder left, I applied way too much lotion to the naked strip on my ball sac. It felt liked I’d pissed my pants as I foraged for peanut butter in my kitchen. With the ingredients laid out on the mahogany island, a flurry of nerves rained down on me. What if he’s expecting more? As I smothered the slices of bread with the peanut butter, I almost talked myself out of my master plan. The only thing that kept me going is the fact that, with just hours to go, I couldn’t think of an alternative.

When I’d finished preparing the sandwiches I cut them into triangles, because that’s how my mom always served them. Initially, I attempted to seal them in Saran wrap but after a ten-minute battle and a heap of expletives, I went with aluminum foil. I popped them in the fridge and then headed upstairs to pack some things.

The beach I had in mind was only accessible through a residential area so I substituted toothpaste for gum and shower gel for body spray. It was only one night so I didn’t find it too big of a deal. I packed a change of clothes, my meds and some blankets I didn’t even know I owned. Thanks, Mom. Thankfully, Alex had clothes and his medication at my place, too, because I didn’t have a key for his apartment; he always came here. I was grateful because I couldn’t tell him to pack a bag. I wanted everything to be a surprise.

I noted the time and it was after lunch already. I decided if Ryder wasn’t back within half an hour I would call him and tell him to hurry his ass up. As a precaution, I called Alex and asked him to wait for a delivery due at the club late afternoon. It was a blatant lie, but hopefully he’d forgive me when he saw what I’d planned for him.

An alert sounded on the security monitor and I raced downstairs to see how big a dent Ryder had made in my credit card. When I reached the main living space I found Ryder waddling toward the kitchen with so many bags in his arms I couldn’t see his face.