Page 50 of The King of Halloween
But if Raj did show, the last thing he wanted was any passersby getting into his business. So he chose the table as far from the action as he could. It butted up to a mysterious door with no way in. Too bad it was also by the busy coffee pots.
The door opened, and Adam sat up higher.
“Bertie!” a woman called out, greeting an older man hidden behind a newspaper.
Adam slipped lower in his chair.
Damn it. Wrinkles.
Correcting his posture, he tried to adjust the lines of his suit and realigned his orange pocket square folded to mimic a pumpkin. Okay, he may have overdone it for a coffee date. The twelve-step process to get his hair perfect was also not a healthy sign. But he hadn’t done casual dating in years. Or any dating, really.
For the past five years, his top romantic moments included the time a guy shared his edible after eating his ass, and another one letting him take an energy drink home after they’d fucked all night. Just sitting at a table together blew his last half-decade out of the water.
Assuming he shows up.
“Hey Ad—”
Adam swung his head up.
“—rienne.” A man kissed the cheek of one of the women at a table of four.
When was the last time anyone kissed me somewhere other than my lips…or cock?
“I’m so sorry. Am I late?”
A strange pang, almost between a smile and tears, flushed through Adam’s chest. He turned as Raj fiddled with the back of his chair.
“Wow, you look…” Raj’s jaw tumbled to the floor. Shaking it off, he pulled out his chair and finally sat while speaking. “There was a customer who wanted a special kind of tea, and we didn’t have it. Should I have dressed up? I feel like I should have put on anything else.”
“No.” Adam caught his hand picking at the gorgeous Aran sweater cupping his body. “You look…wonderful.”
Raj smiled. “You too. Though, you always do. I didn’t even have time to comb my hair, and you’re here in cologne that smells like…” He breathed deeply, and Adam would swear his eyes darkened. “Sweaty bodies rolling around on a bearskin rug.”
Fuck.How could that man go from adorable bumbling dork to cock-jerking sex master in two seconds? “I, um…” Stunned, Adam tried to jumpstart his brain. “Thank you.”
Smiling, Raj turned and stared at the menu or the line trailing away from the counter. “Is there anything here other than truffles and tortes?”
“Oh, yes. Though, this time of year, I swear by their pecan bourbon torte.”
“Sold.”
By the time they got their tortes, Adam and Raj had discussed their favorite horror movies. All the originals, of course. They were so deep into debating if Dead Man Lifting would have been better with the original plan of a haunted gym killing people or the zombie body builder, Adam didn’t realize he’d cut a slice of his torte until he bit down on the fork.
“Wow.” Raj gulped and shook his head. “You weren’t kidding. This is delicious.”
“I never kid about…tortes.” Adam cocked his head, trying to look cool while he twiddled his fork like a dagger.
“Gentlemen.” The cashier slash waitress stood before them. “We’ve got one chai latte.” She placed that in front of Raj. “And one black coffee.” That one she put in front of Adam. “Do you need anything else?”
Adam smiled warmly. “We’re good. Thanks, Trini.”
Once her back was turned, Adam and Raj switched drinks. After savoring the rush of spice, Adam placed his mug down, leaned to the side of his chair, and eyed up Raj. “So…”
“So,” Raj repeated.
“Shall we delve into the awkward getting-to-know-each-other exposition rush while pretending we didn’t Google it all before?”
Raj chuckled, the guilt delicious across his warming cheeks. “Raj Choudhary. Previously from Daly City, California. Which is my way of implying San Francisco without actually saying it.”
