The Holiday List (The Script Club 4) - Page 11

“Of course. Uh…that’s too bad about the sun messing with your transmission.”

Lame, I know. It was the best I could do ’cause I wasn’t really sure what the fuck he was talking about.

“Yes and no. We knew the interruption was imminent. It’s called a solar conjuncture, and it happens every two years when the red planet moves behind the sun…from Earth’s perspective, that is. It’s basically hiding from us.” He gave a weak chuckle and shrugged, pushing his glasses higher on his straight nose. “Sorry. I chatter a lot when I’m on the verge of hysteria. Missing phones and spooky environments do that to me.”

“You’re a talker, eh?” I rubbed my free arm for warmth and smiled reassuringly.

My gaze dipped from his eyes to his mouth and lingered shamelessly. I couldn’t help it. He had a pretty mouth. In fact, everything on him was pretty…from his mop of hair to his elegant fingers and lithe, lean body. I looked away for a moment, chiding myself for perving on the guy.

“Just call me Chatty Chet! But I’m really more of a nervous talker than anything,” he admitted. “Geez, I was doing so well earlier. Now I realize the heater situation may be more dire than I realized and—”

“The heater’s busted?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s broke like that mountain in the movies.”

“Brokeback Mountain?”

He fiddled with his glasses again. “Bad joke. Ha. Sorry.”

I chuckled. “It’s probably the pilot light. Just reignite it and you’ll be in business. See ya—”

Chet raised his hand like a kid in class. “Question. Where is the pilot light?”

I pursed my lips to keep my smile in check. He was an odd duck but a cute one.

“It’s in the front panel at the bottom of the unit.”

“Understood. And the unit is located…where?” he asked, furrowing his brow and dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

Fuck me. That wasn’t cute. That was hot.

“It’s between the kitchen and the old room next to it. I think it used to be a butler’s pantry. Do you want me to help?”

“Oh, gosh, y-yes, please. Come in. I have to warn you, it’s chilly in here.” Chet opened the door wide and motioned me in.

“Damn, you’re not kidding. The heat must have been off for a while.”

“Going on twenty-four hours, to be exact.”

“Not a good time of year for the furnace to conk out.” I glanced at the staircase and almost tripped over a chair propped against the door.

“Oops. Sorry. That’s my security system.”

“A chair?”

“Yep. If an intruder breaks in, I figured I’d hear the racket and have enough time to run…or jump from the second story.” He nodded, apparently immune to my fierce WTF expression. “Come this way.”

I scratched my chin thoughtfully, then followed him through the living room and into the kitchen. Other than different furniture, everything looked the same. For some reason, that was oddly comforting, as if the house welcomed me.

I shook off my fanciful thoughts and flipped the switch in the alcove between the pantry and the laundry area before opening a narrow door and pointing at the furnace.

“We’ll need a lighter and a flashlight. If you can jimmy the panel, I’ll light it for you.”

“Got it. A lighter and a fleshlight coming right up.”

I barked a laugh. “Flashlight.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said fleshlight.”

“That’s not a word,” he argued, rummaging through a nearby drawer. He handed over a long lighter and turned on a compact flashlight, shining it at my chest.

“Yeah, it is,” I countered. “You can look it up later. Move the light a little lower, please.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

I squinted at the old furnace, craning my neck while trying not to jar my shoulder. But as a silence crept in, I was still very aware of the man crouched beside me. He had to be the noisiest thinker on the planet. I couldn’t guess what was on his mind, but—

“Just tell me,” he blurted after a minute.

“Tell you what?”

“What’s a fleshlight?”

I snickered. “Really?”

“Yes. If my hands weren’t full, I would have researched it already. I make a point of learning new words and terminologies daily, but I spend so much time in a lab that I tend to miss a few. Fun fact…a new word is created every ninety-eight seconds. On average over one thousand words are added to the dictionary each year. Another fun fact…the oldest word ever recorded is a derivation of ‘hey’ or ‘ouch.’ ”

I cast an amused sideways glance his way. “Interesting. Well, you’ll find the ‘fleshlight’ entry of Wikipedia highly enlightening. Pun intended.”

“Does it illuminate something specific?”

“Your dick. It’s a sex toy, Chet.”

He dropped the flashlight, then scrambled to retrieve it. “Got it.”

His hands shook as he struggled to return to his position of “lantern holder.” Light bounced all over the unit, making it difficult to see what I was doing.

“Relax. I need your help here,” I said gently.

Tags: Lane Hayes The Script Club Romance
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