It was Flynn’s turn to laugh. “Of course you wouldagree.” He didn’t give Mac a chance to say anything more and went on. “Your landlady. What’s her name again?”
“Dee. Dee Weeda. She’s a sweetheart. Like a grandma to me.”
“Right. She does seem nice. And now I’m thinking maybe we could add ‘wise’ to the woman’s qualities.”
Mac nodded eagerly.
“I just live over in Wallingford.”
Mac wanted to say “You want me to come there with you now? I’m a bottom! Or I’m a top! I can be whatever you want me to be!” but he kept his own counsel. Again, the guy could be straight. Most men were, Mac reminded himself. The odds were that Flynn was one of those strange dudes who preferred pie over sausage. Whatever. It was a waste, but Mac could accept it—begrudgingly.