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General Winter looked over his shoulder, smirking. “You’ve grown quiet.”

“And you look like you’re focusing.”

He chuckled. “I hardly need to focus while I get the food onto plates.”

Christian smiled. “Maybe I’m just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous task, but it hasn’t meant any danger for me so far.”

“Maybe you just don’t know what I’m thinking about.”

“Or, maybe I do.”

That stopped Christian short, and he gazed at General Winter with undisguised curiosity. If David sensed his stare, he was doing a damn fine job of pretending he didn’t. It allowed Christian to watch him as he leaned over the plates, piling up what looked like greens, a few bits from the pan on top of beautifully seared fish. Watching him work steadily was oddly calming, even as he found his eyes constantly drifting to where the man’s jeans hugged his ass just right.

“Do you think this is common?” Christian asked suddenly.

General Winter looked up, frowning. “Hm?”

Christian motioned between them. “I know people in our position are bound to be close, kind of just...part of the job, you know? As your assistant, I have access to you constantly, seeing you in all sorts of moods and whatnot, but...do you think everyone with a working relationship like ours also has...I don’t know, uh?—”

He trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. As comfortable as he felt, the sudden realization that the entire situation felt oddly intimate left Christian tongue-tied and with red cheeks.

General Winter chuckled. “Is it as personal?”

“Yeah,” Christian said, now studiously admiring the countertop.

“No, I don’t think so. Not that I possess statistics to say for sure, but I’d hazard a guess that few generals or bosses could depend on their assistants to have the sort of unwavering loyalty and desire to help you’ve shown. And I imagine even fewer can count on their assistants to become something like a friend to them over time without realizing it.”

Christian looked up, unsure how to feel about such a platonic title. “Something like a friend.”

General Winter turned around, holding two plates and a mysterious smile. “Something.”

Christian followed him, again not sure what to say. There was clearly more going on between them than a casual dinner, yet neither was willing to say it aloud. If it was clearly one situation over the other, Christian would know exactly how to act or at least have a better idea. As it was, he wasn’t sure if he should be treating him as General Winter, his superior and a man due a great deal of respect and deference, or as David, a good-looking man whose green eyes sent a pang of longing through him whenever David looked at him.

“Would you prefer to eat here or on the back deck?” General Winter asked him.

“Didn’t you say the sun was blinding at this time of day?”

“I did, but it’s later now.”

Christian smiled. “Then lead the way.”

Dinner provedto be better than he’d expected. Christian was no expert, but he knew good fish when he tasted it and when it was cooked properly. The fish had been rich, cut through with citrus and just a hint of spice to catch the back of the throat. The greens had been refreshing, with a slight zing of some vinaigrette. The wine David had pulled out of the cellar had been fantastic and complimented the dish perfectly with its rich, fruity flavors and complex sweetness.

And to go with the meal had been a magnificent sunset. By the time they’d come outside, the brightest colors had faded, allowing them to see perfectly. As they ate their meal, Christian savoring every bite, the bright orange and vibrant red had given way to deep purple and the faintest trace of a mellow blue. Oneby one, the stars peeked out, reflecting off the ocean a few dozen yards away, and the fireflies had come out in full force.

All perfect, and all before he could even address the company.

David chuckled. “So, you managed to sneak all those boys into the basement, and your foster parents never realized?”

Christian shrugged. “They were, uh, not the most attentive people. Okay, fine, Alice, the mom, had to take sleeping meds to get through the night, and her husband, uh, Andrew, was a bit of a drinker. If you didn’t make an entire herd of elephants go through the house, you could pretty much do whatever you wanted after eleven at night. So yeah, the other two foster kids and I dragged some guys back to the house.”

“I can only imagine what sort of trouble you got up to unsupervised,” David said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Christian held a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Me? I was a perfect angel. I enjoyed long, philosophical conversations with them, discussing current events. No misbehaving or excessive making out ever happened.”

David smirked. “I know things change with every generation, but I have a feeling teenage late-night parties haven’t changed that much.”