Page 7 of Home for Nathan
Bingo.
“I can totally do that.” He grinned. Who knew who he would meet next, especially since Kaleb and Charlie knew everyone.
He headed up to the counter to pay Carrie. He would come back to shop again to outfit the house, and to pick up what he’d bought today.
One thing he was pretty sure of. He wouldn’t meet anyone more interesting than Nathan. His gut was rarely wrong.
Chapter
Three
He was going on a date.
Nathan had texted and asked to actually call on Thursday, and they had set up a date for Fuel for Saturday night. He could just walk downstairs and meet Zion there, so he didn’t need to worry about getting stranded. The restaurant was in the same building as his apartment.
He stared at himself in the mirror. “Is this a mistake?” he asked himself. “What if this is a monumental mistake?” Butterflies filled his stomach, which was blessedly not sour or urpy, but who knew how it would go? There was no fish on the menu at Fuel tonight. He’d called.
He breathed in and out, then nodded at himself. He wore a baggy sweater that still managed to look really polished, and a pair of cargo pants. No belly showing at the moment. Yay. And his hair looked good. So he was going to go and have fun and enjoy himself.
He turned on his heel, marching to the door and grabbing his keys to go out and lock up. He tucked his keys in his pocket, then made his way down the stairs. He always looked for the residentghost that supposedly lived in the building, but Nathan had yet to see him.
He waited outside Fuel, and he knew he was almost ten minutes early. Maybe fifteen. But this way he got to watch people and smile and nod at folks he knew from the store.
And he could watch Zion as he came up to the restaurant, smiling, looking incredibly hot in dark jeans and a fancy button-down shirt that was black with silver scrollwork down the sleeves. Kind of extreme sport meets cowboy.
It was really hot.
“Hey.” He got a smile that lit him up inside in ways that he couldn’t remember Don ever doing for him. Which made him put his hand on his belly, sad for his baby for that.
Asshole.
Not Zion. Well, at least he hoped not.
“Hi.” Nathan shifted from foot to foot. “How are you?”
“Good. Did you have to work today?”
“Just until four. So I was able to get a shower. What did you do today?”
“I picked up all sorts of stuff at the Crapitorium, bought some more shit, too, pardon my French. Then I worked on the house for a bit.”
“So where is your house?” He turned when Zion gestured, and then Zion held the door open for him.
“Out by the river, not too far from the hotel. I have a nice bit of land, like thirty acres, and a mill house and stuff.”
“Oh! The mill house! There’s pictures of that at the hotel. Wow. That’s so cool.”
“The house is really neat, too. It was built in 1888. And it’s a boxy old farmhouse, but it has an amazing set of stairs and a bunch of built-ins. And there’s a yurt. With an outhouse.”
“Hey, Nathan!” The young lady at the host stand came to the deli twice a week for a turkey melt, but he honestly couldn’t remember her name, darn it.
“Hey. How are you?”
“Good, good. Two for dinner?”
“Yep. This is Zion.”
Zion beamed. “I have a reservation under Zion, in fact.”
