Page 27 of The Swap After Hours

I chuckled. “It’s fine. This car is my baby, so I totally get it. I’m a bit obsessed with her myself.”

His shoulders relaxed as he arched an eyebrow at me. “Your car is a she?”

I felt my face flame, an uncharacteristic feeling of embarrassment washing over me. “Well, I…”

“It’s cool,” he said with a grin. “My car was a she too. I named her Trixie, but unfortunately, she’s passed on.”

“I’m…sorry?” I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was for someone’s car dying.

His deep chuckle sent a wave of warmth through my chest. “It’s okay. She had a good, long life. Plus, it happened the same day you hired me, so it was like she waited until she knew I’d be okay, you know?”

I nodded even though I had no idea. Trevor had a way of looking at things that often perplexed me, but for some reason, I found it all very charming. I found him charming. I cleared my throat. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes!” Trevor nodded his head excitedly. “So, where are we going?” he asked as he buckled his seat belt.

“There’s a little Italian place I like, if that sounds all right. The food is all authentic and it’s excellent.”

“That sounds great.” Trevor’s voice sounded huskier than usual, and I wondered if he was nervous about being alone with me. For some reason, the thought helped settle my own nerves a bit and by the time we got to the restaurant, I was feeling much more in control of myself.

Trevor didn’t say anything when I asked the hostess for a private table, explaining that we didn’t want to be disturbed. She led us to a table for two in a small alcove toward the back of the restaurant.

He took his seat, smiling shyly as the hostess handed him a menu. I already knew what I was going to get, so I just pretended to look at mine, while taking the opportunity to stare over the top of it at the beguiling man across from me.

His fingers tapped a nervous beat on top of the linen tablecloth, the soft, flickering flame from the single candle in the center, casting a romantic glow over the tiny space. His blue eyes reflected the light, making them sparkle as they roamed over the menu and his dirty-blond hair flopped over his forehead. Jesus, he’s beautiful. His eyes suddenly snapped to mine, and my breath caught in my throat, worried that somehow, he’d heard what I’d been thinking.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief when he simply asked, “What do you like from here?”

I grabbed my glass of water and took a sip to slow my racing heart. “Honestly, it’s all good. My favorite is eggplant parmesan, but you can get whatever you want. My treat.” I held my hand up when he started to argue. “I insist. This was my idea, after all.”

“Um. Thanks. That sounds delicious. I think I’ll get that.”

The waitress came and took our orders. We each got a glass of wine which she quickly brought to our table before scurrying away. Trevor lifted his and took a large gulp, trying to calm his nerves. His lips were stained red from the wine, and I had trouble pulling my gaze away from them. I wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

I took a healthy drink of my own wine, hoping to chase away any thoughts of his lips and what they might feel like pressed against my own, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, the faint taste of wine lingering there. I shifted in my seat to relieve the increasing swell inside my pants.

“Why did you ask me to dinner?”

Trevor’s question shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, I’d been asking myself the same thing. “I know you must have questions after…the other night. And it’s not appropriate to talk about private matters at work, so I thought…”

His expression turned disbelieving. “So, you thought that asking me out to dinner to talk about my sexuality would be more appropriate?”

“I…look, maybe this was a mistake.”

“No!” Trevor’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist as if he thought I was going to simply take off and leave him stranded. A flustered breath whooshed out of him, and he rubbed a hand over his face before looking at me again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just, you’re my boss, but you’re also the only person who knows how confused I’ve been and I…I really need someone to talk to.”

“You can’t talk to your best friend?”

Guilt clouded his gaze. “Doug? Yeah, of course, I could talk to him. He would support me no matter what and besides, he’s gay, so there’s no way he’d judge me, but…”

“But?”

He swallowed as his eyes met mine. “But I kind of want to figure some of this out on my own before I tell anyone, you know? Just so I can be sure.”

“That makes sense.”

His face showed his relief. “Thanks. Anyway, I don’t really know where to start. How am I supposed to figure out whether I’m gay or bisexual or whatever?”

Our conversation halted as the waitress brought our plates, placing the delicious smelling food in front of each of us. She topped off our wine glasses then left us alone once again.

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