Every Shade by Nora Phoenix

1

Jordan’s stomach fluttered as he pulled up to the mansion he’d only ever seen pictures of. Finally, he’d find out for certain if Bryan felt the same for him. He parked his car on the…

Matthew frowned.What was that called again, that area in front of big-ass houses where cars could pull up? It had a name.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as the words flew through his mind. Not the driveway. A square? No, that wasn’t it. And the portico was what you entered the house through, like a porch but more classical in style. Dammit, it had a name, but what was it? He hated shit like this, those moments when his brain just wouldn’t cooperate.

He didn’t have time for this. Two more chapters to go and this book would finally be finished. About damn time. It had taken him a full week longer than planned, and as a result, he was behind on schedule. That didn’t make him happy—very little did these days if he were honest.

Somewhere along the way, he’d become a hermit, one of those grumbling men who snarled at the TV and had the social skills of a raccoon. The two grumpy old men from the Muppet Show had nothing on him.

Being an author was a solitary profession, and the fact that he lived in a town so small it didn’t even have its own post office didn’t help. After he’d become distinctly unhappy living in New York City, he’d thought buying a house out in the boonies, as his brother had called it, would be the right move. It would certainly prevent a repeat of the biggest mistake of his life, aka Geoff. What an idiot he had been. He’d gotten off lucky there, saved only by his instincts. If not for those, he might’ve ended up in jail.

No, moving in itself had been the right call, but he still wasn’t sure if he’d chosen the right spot. Maybe the little town he’d picked was a bit too far off the grid. He loved the peace and quiet, but he’d grossly overestimated his ability to make new friends here. Hell, he barely knew his neighbors. And they hopefully hadn’t found out his pen name, which he guarded like Fort Knox. On the plus side, crime was nonexistent here, and he rarely bothered to lock his doors or his car. That had been a big change after New York City.

He was used to the dichotomy by now, being Matthew for most of the day while only switching to Avery when he had to. Funny how Matthew felt much more like his true self now than Avery ever had. Maybe because Avery had fucked up with Geoff? The name felt a bit tainted now, strange as that might sound.

He cracked his knuckles. Right. Back to Jordan and Bryan, the two main characters in his latest book. He still had those last chapters to finish. The grand finale where they’d declare their love and then one last sex scene and a schmoopy epilogue, and he’d be done. A bad boy billionaire with a twist was how he would market it, and the cover his designer had come up with was brilliant.

So, okay, Jordan was pulling up to Bryan’s mansion, the one he’d inherited from the English ancestors he’d never known he had. A house that came with a title, just to make it even more over the top. His readers would gobble that up. If he could only figure out what that damn spot was called.

With a sigh, he clicked open the iMessage app. He’d have to ask for help, as much as he hated this.

Bossman:what’s that area called in front of a grand mansion? Like, where they used to pull the carriages up?

HumblePA:I don’t know… A square?

Bossman: No, not square. It has a word.

HumblePA:Can I point out that square is a word as well?

Bossman:[rolling eyes emoji]

HumblePA: Well, am I wrong? Isn’t square a word as well?

Bossman:Of course it’s a word, but it’s the wrong word. I’m looking for a different word.

HumblePA:Right. I’ve got lots of words for you, but not the one you’re looking for, I’m afraid.

Bossman:You’re as helpful as ever. Remind me why I pay you again?

HumblePA:Because you get to dump everything you hate to do in my lap and tell me to do it? [grin emoji]

Bossman: Good point.

HumblePA: I have my moments. Now, may I kindly suggest you get back to writing? That book isn’t gonna write itself.

Bossman: You’re getting way too cheeky. Someone needs to teach you a lesson.

HumblePA:Leave the spanking for your books, boss. It don’t impress me much.

Matthew foundhimself grinning as he went back to work. Those rapid-fire text exchanges with Jace were far more fun than he’d ever admit to anyone. Especially to Jace himself, who’d been his personal assistant for two years now. He’d made himself indispensable, no matter how much Matthew hated it.

He’d call it a square for now and highlight it so he could find the exact word later. Otherwise, he’d get sucked into Googling shit, which would inevitably lead to Googling more shit, and before he knew it, he’d have wasted two hours learning obscure facts that had exactly zero relevance for the book. Hashtag been there, done that.

An hour later, he had everything done except the last sex scene. God, why did he always keep those for last? Few things were less sexy than having to write what was supposed to be a hot scene under extreme time pressure. Being creative there was hard enough as it was—har, har.

After all, there were only so many ways to describe tab A being put into slot B, even for an author like him who was known for his steamy scenes. They didn’t write themselves, and many of them had required solid research, like hours of watching the Ballsy Boys. Being an author really was a hardship. Even more when you could deduct said porn from your taxes as business expenditure, but that was beside the point.

Even after pleasurable and extensive study, one still had to write the damn scenes, and in this case, he had one more tender scene left. Fine, he’d do it the next day. He’d managed almost five thousand words, so surely he deserved a reward, right?

Like curling up on the couch with Campbell’s tomato bisque soup and garlic bread while watching The Great British Bake Off. He had no idea why he was so fascinated with it when he couldn’t even bake banana bread without burning it, but it was oddly relaxing. And he was wiped, a faint headache brewing from his sinuses, so he needed to chill.

Bossman:Signing off for today. One more scene tomorrow and I’m done.

HumblePA:Let me guess. Gonna watch Daddy Paul Hollywood give someone a handshake for baking a pie without a soggy bottom?

Bossman: You’d kill for a Daddy like Paul, and you know it.

HumblePA: Nah, not my type. Anyway, have you let Eileen know you’re sending her the book for editing in a few days?

Bossman:No, but I’ll do that before I log off.

HumblePA:I’ll check with the designer for the final cover files to make sure you have those on time. Are we doing audio for this one?

Bossman:I love how you say “we” when you mean me.

HumblePA: You say it all the time when you mean me, so I figure this is only fair. We’ll call it the royal we.

Bossman:The royal we?

HumblePA: Yes, like royals refer to themselves as “we, the King of The Netherlands” or whatever.

Bossman:Never knew that. But yes, “we” are doing audio, so I’ll need the audio cover as well.

HumblePA:Okay, I’ll add it to the launch checklist.

Bossman: Thanks. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.

The three littledots popped up, then disappeared again. Matthew frowned. Had he said something wrong? He checked his last few texts. Nope, he’d been nice even. Nothing Jace could complain about. Not that he ever did. In jest, yes, but never for real. The kid—Jace was almost fifteen years younger than Matthew, so he was pretty sure that qualified him as a kid, even though he was twenty-four—worked hard and rarely messed up.

And Matthew hadn’t lied. He really wouldn’t know what to do without him. In more ways than just for practical stuff. His interactions with Jace were the highlights of his day, and how sad was that? He’d never tell him that. Way too much information. Jace probably had a life—unlike Matthew.

His social media pics certainly suggested he got more action than Matthew did. Well, that was zero, so the bar was low, but still. He’d posted a Halloween pic a few weeks before of him in a super tight Spider-Man costume that had definitely inspired some superhero fantasies in Matthew. He wouldn’t mind playing those out with Jace…

But that would never happen. Jace was too young, probably not interested—the kinds of pics he posted of men he found hot certainly suggested Matthew wasn’t even close to being his type—and role-play was a thing of the past for Matthew. Too risky.

Finally, Jace responded.

HumblePA:Thank you. That means a lot.

Matthew had meantit more as a joke, but too late now. If he retracted his statement now, he’d come off as a jerk. And Matthew was pretty sure Jace already thought him an asshat half the time, so no need to add fuel to that particular fire. Jace had a stellar reputation, and plenty of authors would be all too happy to steal him from Matthew given half the chance. Nope, not happening. He’d keep Jace, even if he had to suck up a little to keep him happy.

He grinned. It might have been a while, but he’d always been good at sucking. His smile disappeared when he sneezed hard. Ew. He wasn’t coming down with a cold, was he? He washed his hands, then sent off a last text to Jace.

Bossman:You’re welcome. Now go do whatever it is you do so I can focus on my priorities. It’s bread week, so I’m excited.