Page 55 of Naughty November

But my very last thought, as in the one that didn’t even cross my mind, was that I’d fling open the door to find Everett’s life-long best friend, Holden Sinclair, standing on his doorstep.

Standing there and looking utterly scrumptious.

My dick instantly perked up, because holy shit, that “type” I’d mentioned having? It was more than eager to remind me exactly what that looked like, and that it was very, very happy to see sweet little Holden again.

My dick had clearly also forgotten that the kid was completely straight and had always been off limits to even fantasize about, since he’d still been jailbait the last time I lived in town.

Wait, not “kid.” Not anymore. Holden was Everett’s age, which made him a grown-ass man now even if he was, presumably, still a straight one.

But at least that made it okay to look.

“Hey there, button,” I said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe as I took in his flushed cheeks, dark, tousled hair, and big, wide, honey-colored eyes that looked like they belonged on an anime character.

Holden stared up at me in shock, his fist still raised to pound on the door like he’d been frozen to the spot.

I grinned down at him—looked like he’d never gotten any extra growth spurts after I left, so he was still just a tiny slip of a thing—and idly wondered if he was still dating Cindy Jensen, the way Ev had mentioned a while ago.

I hadn’t given it much thought when Ev had passed on that bit of news, but now it struck me what a mismatch it seemed. Cindy had been one grade below me in school, which made her three years older than Everett and Holden. But she’d also been a bona fide pain in the ass back when we’d all been in school.

I just didn’t get it. Holden had always been the sweetest little thing. So either Cindy had changed, or else the boy I remembered had grown up to like the kind of woman who walked all over him.

I frowned, not liking that thought at all.

The frown seemed to jolt Holden out of his shock, because he blushed even harder—something I honestly hadn’t known was possible—and finally lowered his raised fist, tucking both hands behind his back.

Then bringing them around to shove in his pockets.

Then pulling them out again, where he wrung them together in front of himself as he shuffled his feet and blinked up at me.

“Fletch? What, um, what are you doing here?” he asked, sounding unaccountably breathless.

Shit, he was nervous about something, I could tell. And just like that, the same protective instincts he used to inspire in me back when he was tagging around with my little brother reared up their heads like they’d just awoken from hibernation.

“Is something wrong?”

“Is, um, is Ev home?” he asked instead of answering me,swallowing hard as he shifted like he was trying to see around me so he could peer into my brother’s house.

“No,” I said, not even a little bit apologetic about how demanding my voice got when I added, “Tell me what’s going on, Holden.”

He blinked up at me, biting his lip for a second. Then his shoulders slumped, and he scuffed his foot, staring down at the porch. “Nothing.”

I smirked, reaching out to lift his chin so he couldn’t dodge my eyes like that. “Don’t lie to me, button.”

“No one calls me that anymore,” he mumbled, blushing again.

I grinned at him. “But it’s still true.”

It had been my grandmother who’d pinched his cheeks and called him “cute as a button” the first time Everett had brought him home, and the nickname had stuck.

Or at least, for me it had.

At the time, I’d still been a few years away from realizing I was gay, but it wasn’t until I was today-years-old that it occurred to me that just maybe I hadn’t kept the nickname alive just to tease him. Maybe I’d always had a type.

Damn, I really did like the way he blushed and squirmed when I called him that.

“Are you still dating Cindy?” I asked out of nowhere, the question catching me off guard just as much as it apparently did him.

Because, shit. Holden went from pink-cheeked and adorable to pale and shrinking in on himself the minute I asked it.