There’s no reason for you to leave. Stay as long as you like. I’ve booked a room downtown within walking distance to several meetings I have planned—it’s easier access for me. If you’re not free Monday evening, then perhaps Tuesday or Wednesday? Let me know your schedule.
What? Robert had booked a room when he owned this place, his home, that happened to be a few miles from anywhere in downtown DC? What was up with that? Was it believable to book a hotel room to be closer to planned meetings?
Landon didn’t know what to make of it. The doctor was very health conscious, seemed environmentally aware, and the traffic was a motherfucker to deal with. Still, was it worth staying in a hotel instead of his own home?
Landon started to ask that very question, going as far as typing the words, but stopped himself from pushing send. The doctor was a direct guy. If Robert wanted him to leave, he’d say it. Right?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
This newfound insecurity was a fucking killer, and he didn’t know what to say in reply.
As he warred with himself, another email message came through.
If you’re busy, it’s fine. We can have dinner another time.
Clearly his hesitancy was being interpreted as though he were putting him off. He didn’t want that. No matter what their relationship, Landon wanted to spend time with the doc. He just wasn’t sure what was happening here.
Fingers flying as quickly as he could type, he replied.
It’s not that. Whatever night you want to have dinner is fine by me. Where I’m getting stuck, I mean, what I don’t understand is why you’re staying in a hotel when you have a perfectly good unused bedroom here. If it’s because I’m here, I can leave. No harm, no foul—I promise.
He waited maybe two minutes. Two minutes that crawled by and left him feeling anxious and uncertain before a new email popped into his inbox.
Honestly, I didn’t want to assume or crowd you. I gave you the townhome for as long as you need, however long that is—no rush. I’ll look forward to Monday night. There’s a steakhouse close to you. I believe it’s the Bourbon Steak House. How does that sound?
There was so much in those six sentences that Landon decided to tackle the last one first.
What would you eat if we went to the steakhouse?
He had never voluntarily turned away a steak dinner. Even more telling was that he’d never in his life put anyone before himself—not one time. It wasn’t in his nature.
What the fuck was going on with him? He pushed away the little voice in his head that whispered Robert’s name as the answer to his question.
Impatiently he clicked the refresh button to see Robert’s new reply.
Then maybe we could go down to Farmers Fishers Bakers. My friends say they have good steaks, and I can find something to eat there very easily. Washington Harbor is within walking distance of the townhome. The area’s fun for locals and tourists.
Clearly his dick had as much control as a horny teen as it hardened the moment Robert had asked if he were up to it. Yeah, he was definitely up to it. Landon rested his back against the headboard, his eyes remaining fixed on the screen. He was very close to giddy inside, his belly fluttering with anticipation, and all he did was stare at the screen trying to find something appropriate yet clever to say.
Landon didn’t want them to be awkward when they met again after all this time, so he decided to turn the conversation a different direction.
You never asked how my PT’s going. I’m pretty much a phenom to my therapist. Might be the fastest recovery they’ve seen for my injuries.
He pushed send and reread his message. He’d tried for cheeky but instead sounded arrogant. That was dumb… He wished he could call the message back.
I’ve been keeping tabs. I know your progress. It is impressive.
Robert had a way of saying a whole lot in a few simple words. The man had been keeping tabs on him? All the chaos Landon had been experiencing instantly settled. All the uncertainty and unrequited desire just vanished. Keeping tabs had to be a good sign. Right?
Stalking me, Doc?
He typed that back with a smile on his face.
Absolutely. I wanted you to have as good a shot as you could get. I understand you’re doing very well, far better than expected.
Happiness swelled at Robert’s praise. Proud that he had kicked ass in his PT, but Robert Adams didn’t know him well enough to know he didn’t let anything stand in his way.
What happened to privacy laws? He pushed send and immediately typed a new message. I’m kidding. ;) I appreciate the concern.
Ha! I have a controlling side to my personality. If I’ve crossed any lines, I apologize.