Page 15 of Daily Grind
It was private andhis.
What would Brian think? Were his pictures any good? Was this just a way to humor him? After all, it was art—frivolous.
A bitter chuckle at himself. His father’s words still haunted him, after how many years?
“Am I making you laugh already?” Brian had finished serving the last of the line of customers and was drying his hands. He hovered by the counter.
“I’m making myself laugh.” He looked up at Brian. Of the two, Rob was certain he had a few inches on Brian, but he liked this—seeing that jawline and neck from below. The lights above the coffee bar framed his sandy hair perfectly. “I don’t show off my photos.”
Brian’s posture tightened. He took a breath to speak, but whatever he’d meant to say was cut off by the damn door.
Rob was beginning to hate that bell.
For all the world, it looked like Brian had been about to say something important. Instead, he said, “Looks like my replacement’s arrived.”
All right, so he didn’thatethe bell—now he could get Brian out of the shop, away from that brass noisemaker—and they could talk, uninterrupted.
Brian chatted with his replacement barista. “How’s your grandmom?”
She twisted her face into something—unhappy yet resigned. “Not much better. It’s hard, Bri.”
Brian swallowed and there was conflict and pain in his expression. “Do you need—” He lowered his voice, but not enough that Rob didn’t hear the next words. “Do you need tonight off?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. For goodness’ sake, go on your date.”
Date? Now that was good to hear, even if Brian did turn a beetlike shade of red.
The barista smiled at Rob. “Will you please take this man and get him the hell out of here before he turns into acompletepain in the ass?”
Rob rose and tucked his iPad under his arm. “It would be my pleasure.” He crooked his finger. “You heard the woman.”
Brian looked between the two of them. “But you two have never met! How can you already conspire against me?”
“Go.” The barista pointed at the door. “Have fun.”
Brian held up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going.” He came out from behind the counter and ended up next to Rob, his face still flush and his fingers tapping nervously against his thighs.
“So, dinner?” They hadn’t planned anything, but that seemed the logical choice, especially if this was a date.
“Sure. What—” Brian stopped and gave a bark of a laugh. “I don’t know if I should ask this question, but what are you in the mood for?”
Rob chuckled, but didn’t sayAmerican. Too on the nose. “You pick. I’m still finding my way around this neighborhood.”
“Vietnamese? There’s a place down the street.”
He hooked his arm into Brian’s. “Lead on.”
Brian started at the contact, but they moved anyway, arm and arm out of the door. After a few steps down the street, Rob took pity and let go. Brian was so stiff, so trembly.
“I kind of liked that,” Brian murmured.
“Oh?” Rob took his hand. “This is easier.”
Warm flesh. Brian’s grip was soft and body much more relaxed. He swallowed. “This really is a date, isn’t it?”
“Are you surprised?”
Brian looked ahead, his brows furrowing as if he werethinkingabout the question. “Truthfully? No.”
