Page 7 of Ethan

"On the house." Ethan pointed. "Go find a seat. I'll bring them to you."

In somewhat of a daze, I secured two armchairs near the back of the shop. By the time I had my breathing under control, Ethan disrupted it again by making his appearance.

He set my coffee and croissant in front of me and took a seat. "Made those fresh this morning. I mean, I make them fresh every morning, but this morning was a particularly vicious one."

I was happy to settle into a safe conversation with him. That's what we'd been doing for weeks before my company moved our office to outside the city's outskirts.

"What made it vicious?"

"Late night." He smirked at me. "Entertaining."

There was an age gap, but I could recognize a sexual innuendo when I heard one. My body didn't know what to do with the flash image I conjured of Ethan with another man. Hands wandering up and down his skin. Tasting him—fucking him. Making him come apart.

My cock swelled, straining against my underwear.

Stop.

Ethan pushed his mess of wild, dark curls to one side, drawing my attention to his honey-brown eyes. Caught me staring and smiled. Laugh-lines wrinkled his lids and glorious dimples appeared among the dense but trimmed bristles on his cheeks; his pink lips poised in their midst.

He was stunning.

I wasn't going to touch the sexual comment.

"Owning a coffee shop is a lot of responsibility," I said.

Ethan had told me in a previous conversation about his grandma and how she had left him money in her will to start the shop. It was but one tidbit of information I'd stored away. I remembered everything Ethan had shared with me.

Not unusual for me. Aside from where I lay my keys down last, I rarely forgot anything I deemed important. Ethan had offered me the gift of his attention. I had listened intently.

"It keeps me busy," he replied. "Not much time for anything else."

"Not much of a personal life?" Okay, I was being nosy, but I was curious. What did Ethan's life look like when he wasn't here being a responsible business owner?

Ethan shrugged. "I find time for the people important to me." He leaned back and tucked his hands across his stomach. "What about you? What does life outside accountancy look like?"

It didn't surprise me that Ethan remembered what I did for a living. He was an avid talker, but he was also a good listener. We complemented each other that way.

"I have my family." That statement made Ethan lift away from the back of his seat. I'd never discussed my family before. The mere mention of them had his rapt attention. My mind speculated on the most ridiculous reasons as to why Ethan would be interested in my family dynamics.

"Do you have kids?" Ethan asked.

"Two. My daughter, Sarah, and my son, Derek."

"Were you … are you married?"

"I was. Twenty-two years. Divorced for seven."

Ethan's eyebrows rose. "Wow. You're not afraid of commitment."

"My family is important to me."

"They're lucky to have you." Ethan drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm good at reading people, Daniel." He pointed at me. "And you … you're a good guy."

I chuckled. "Glad you think so."

We sat in silence for a moment, studying each other. Every time I'd seen Ethan in the past, he had on a wildly patterned, colourful shirt. The trend had continued. Today's offering was a button-up with a collar and short sleeves. Bright yellow background. Teal cartoon elephants and purple giraffes posed with aprons in the process of making what looked to be angel food cakes.

I smiled at him. "Nice shirt."

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