Page 39 of Spring Rains

“Boyfriends? Is that what we are?”

He kissed me then, deep, and needy and perfect. “Yep.” I liked the sound of that, boyfriend, and the kissing… it was everything. “So, what are you doing next?”

What did he mean? “What?”

“What are you doing for the rest of your night?

“Um, then it’s just me, a good book, and a cup of hot chocolate.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the counter, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re like thirty, right?”

“No, thirty-five. Why?”

“And a book and hot chocolate is your wild Saturday night child-free plan?”

I laughed. “I had my fun last night at the ranch, but yeah, old before my time and guilty as charged.”

He motioned towards my shirt adorned with the Whisper Ridge Diner logo. “Go get a clean shirt, Noah. I was heading out for a drink with a couple of teachers. Join us?”

I hesitated, aware of the smell of the day’s work clinging to me. “I need a shower first. I smell like a mix of paint thinners and sweat.”

Chris took a theatrical sniff of the air. “Ah, but I love the scent of hard work,” he said with a wink. “I just wish you’d been baking.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

He glanced down. “Nah, I’m all good. And don’t change the subject.”.

Despite myself, I chuckled. “You might like the smell of cake, but it’s not cake I have on me. It’s sweat and grease and… look, I need to shower.”

“Then go,” he said, as if that were just a minor blip in his plans. “Want some help?” he teased.

My heart skipped. The thought of Chris in that tiny shower with me morphed into me and Chris in a much bigger shower, with me on my knees and…

“Just kidding,” he said, then waggled his eyebrows, “or am I?”

The memory of last night’s embrace—the gentle way he’d held me—was enough to have me getting hard. I wanted him in that shower with me, but…

I cleared my throat. “Give me ten minutes?”

Chris settled on a stool, and I passed him a can of soda to keep him company. And then, true to my word, ten minutes later, with my hair still damp and shoved under a beanie, we were heading to The Summit. I’d walked past the local bar several times and knew its reputation as having a laid-back atmosphere and good beer, but knew they only offered bar snacks—fries mostly—and I’d considered connecting with them about their food offering and whether they wanted me to cater anything for them.

And where would I fit that in my day?

I noticed Chris moving slower than usual on his crutches, careful near the piles of melting snow, and felt a pang of concern. I fought the instinct to fuss, knowing how some people hated fuss. Just because he’d called me boyfriend didn’t mean it was automatic that I was in the right to nag him to be safe. Instead, I slowed my pace a little, and we walked in comfortable silence, the cool night air a welcome relief after the warmth of the diner.

At The Summit, we found the other teachers, right at the back, in a large booth, already with a drink for Chris lined up.

“Hi, guys, this is Noah; owns the diner.”

“Maddie,” a woman with long, dark ringlets waved at me. “We’ve met.”

“Keep it simple, always have ham,” I deadpanned, recalling her demand for honest things to end up on my menu.

She grinned. “Yep.”

Chris introduced me to the other teachers, Oscar—Math—who greeted me with a warm smile and informed me he hadn’t been in the diner, but could I guess what he’d order? That wasn’t happening, but I threw out a full breakfast and coffee heavy on the cream and sugar, and he seemed amazed.

According to him, I had a superpower.

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