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Patrick looks defeated. “Sorry about the turkey.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I wanted our first cottage Thanksgiving to be special.”
“Mm, it’s already memorable.”
“Well, if you hadn’t splashed bacon all over the oven. . . .”
“Really? Focusing on that instead of how I rescued you?”
“So sexy, how you wielded the fire extinguisher. Your strong arms.”
“Yeah?” David dampens a towel. “I’ll get this soot off you.” He cleans, and then kisses, a spot near Patrick’s ear.
“Oh. Maybe there’s some on my neck? Or, here, under my shirt.”
“Let’s go upstairs while the kitchen airs out.”