“We should go downstairs and have a glass of wine with our hosts,” Ben said, folding back the comforter on the bed, preparing for a short night of sleep. It was already after eleven o’clock, and he yawned, maybe preferring some sleep and dreams over a nightcap.
“Aren’t you afraid of being questioned by your fan base down there?”
He laughed. “I’m pretty sure Dan and his husband are harmless.”
“Yes. But how will they act if they have too much to drink with a world-renowned pastry chef?”
“This is their business, and I think they’ll carry themselves as professional men usually do in my presence.”
I stripped down to a bright yellow pair of boxer briefs and climbed on the bed. “Tell you what,” I told him, crossing my ankles, and arms over my chest. “Keep your clothes on. Go down and get a b
