Page 63 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

He had spent the entire day at the office, despite having cleared it out so everyone could spend time with their families over the holidays. He buried himself in paperwork, juggling between signing contracts and checking his phone, hoping for a message from either Talon or Allison.

But his thoughts kept circling back to that one insane, irrational idea he’d had weeks ago: moving in with Allison. He couldn’t shake it, constantly imagining how much easier it would be to ensure her well-being if they were living together.

And then, more sinful thoughts flashed through his mind—the thought of being close enough to touch her soft skin whenever he wanted, to breathe in that tantalizing scent that was driving him crazy.

Then his dick would wake up, he’d curse himself for the thoughts and dive back into work—only to check his phone again minutes later. It was a torturous, never-ending cycle, but he didn’t even try to break it. There was no point.

Allison consumed his entire being.

I really wish I could have kissed her when the fireworks went off.

New Year’s Day arrived, despite Angelo wishing otherwise. He had reluctantly donned his best black sweater—because, as much as he preferred his usual shirts, even he had to admit it was sweater weather—and paired it with matching slacks. All for this stupid coffee meeting with Johnathan.

Okay, not stupid, he corrected himself.The man had a point, after all.

Angelo scoffed at his own thoughts, glancing at his watch with a practiced motion. Sure enough, Johnathan Green Lockwood—he had learned the middle name from Allison—was officially ten minutes late.

He exhaled loudly, wiping at some imaginary lint on his pants, just as the door swung open, ushering in a rush of cold air and, finally, the man of the hour.

It didn’t take long for Johnathan to spot him—Angelo’s all-black attire stood out like a sore thumb amidst the explosion of Christmas cheer that filled the café. It wasn’t that Angelo had anything against the holiday itself; it was the crowds and the excessive colors that irked him. And Christmas, unfortunately, wastheseason for both of his pet peeves.

A couple of minutes later, Johnathan settled into the chair across from him, having ordered his drink at the counter. Angelo watched him, half-expecting the man to come back with something absurdly sweet.

Probably a caramel mocha or something equally offensive to the concept of coffee, Angelo thought with a smirk. In contrast, his own drink was a double espresso. Black. Straight to the point, just like he preferred.

“You’re late,” Angelo said flatly as Johnathan sat down.

Johnathan shot him a look but didn’t rise to the bait. “Traffic,” was all he offered in response, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the back of his chair.

Angelo hummed noncommittally, and the silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. The awkwardness was palpable, so much so that Angelo could almost feel the eyes of the other patrons on them.

“Well,” Johnathan began after a beat, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, “happy New Year, I guess?”

Angelo quirked an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is it?”

Johnathan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, fair point. Not exactly the most festive start, huh?”

“You could say that,” Angelo replied, taking a sip of his espresso. The bitterness was welcome, grounding him in the midst of the awkward tension. “But we’re here. Let’s get this over with.”

“Always the optimist,” Johnathan shot back, but there was a hint of a grin on his face. He took a sip of his own drink—Angelo was mildly surprised to see that it was just a regular coffee, no caramel or whipped cream in sight.

The conversation faltered again, and for a moment, they both just stared at each other, as if trying to figure out what to say next. The silence was almost comical, the two of them looking like they were engaged in some kind of high-stakes staring contest.

Angelo was struck by how much Johnathan resembled Allison. Their eyes and hair weren’t exactly the same shade, but close enough to be noticeable. Their noses and face shapes were nearly identical, subtle reflections of one another. But what stood out most was the air of confidence Johnathan exuded—the same quiet assurance that Allison had, as if both of them were certain they could command a room with just their presence.

Angelo hadn’t noticed it before—probably because the similarities were so subtle, and because he’d been toopreoccupied with either glaring at Johnathan or being completely absorbed in admiring Allison.

At the memory of their lunch together, Angelo finally broke the silence. “Look, Johnathan, I’m not exactly the best at… this.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Talking, getting along, whatever this is supposed to be.”

Johnathan snorted. “No kidding. But you’re trying, right?”

Angelo nodded. “I am. For Allison.”

Johnathan’s expression softened at that, and he took another sip of his coffee before speaking. “Same here. She means the world to me, and I don’t want to mess things up for her. If that means sitting here with you and trying to figure out how to be civil, then so be it.”

Angelo couldn’t help but appreciate the man’s straightforwardness. It was refreshing, even if it was wrapped in awkwardness. “I can respect that,” he said, nodding slightly.

“Good,” Johnathan replied, a bit more relaxed now. “Because whether we like it or not, we’re in this together. So, how about we call a truce? At least until the next awkward family gathering.”

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