Max’s sponsor arrived at the coffee shop with his customary smile and a yellow T-shirt decorated with—
“What the fuck is that?” Max asked with a puzzled shake of his head as they ordered their sandwiches.
Tate glanced down at himself and cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a Minion dressed as Wolverine,” he answered, clearly disgusted with Max’s lack of comic book expertise. “What the hell else would it be?”
Max snorted. “I apologize. I’m obviously having an off day with DC—”
“Marvel! Jesus.”
“Whatever.”
Tate shook his head. “I don’t even know why I keep coming back to see you.”
“Because you love me,” Max retorted as they took their lunches to their usual table.
Tate shrugged. “Someone has to, I guess.” They sat in companionable silence, watching the world go by, while they ate. “So how have things been?”
Max nodded. “Okay. Got my six-month medallion.” He took a mammoth bite of his chicken on rye.
When he was in rehab, he’d never imagined he’d get to this point—but the gold medal in his pocket proved he had. When he’d been awarded it at his last group session, it’d been the first time he’d truly felt a shiver of pride.
Tate grinned. “My man. Nice.” They fist-bumped. “Any more ‘off ’ days?”
Max shook his head. He and Tate stayed in frequent contact, exchanging texts at least once a day, with phone calls just as regular. Tate had been a true support for him, and the fact that he traveled three hours every week to see Max was testament to how seriously he took his role as Max’s sponsor.
As always, they shot the shit about therapy, caught up on friends—with Riley at the helm, Max’s body shop was booming; Carter was stressed with Kat’s wedding planning—and drank coffee.
Suddenly, his coffee mug frozen in mid-air, Tate’s attention moved to something on the street. Max followed his line of sight and smirked.
It was Grace.
Dressed in running gear, she was walking toward the coffee shop, looking at her watch, no doubt checking her run time. Her hair was pulled back, her ponytail bouncing, her running pants breathtakingly tight. Max’s cock gave a nod of appreciation. He was annoyed he’d had to cancel his run with her this morning to meet Tate.
“Good Lord,” Tate muttered as he watched her enter the shop and head to the counter.
“Like what you see?” Max asked. A curious and unfamiliar warmth crept across his skin.
“Um, yeah … Shit, do they all look like her around here?”
Max looked over at Grace, catching her eye. She beamed and waved. He smiled and dipped his chin back at her. “No,” he answered. “She’s one of a kind.”
As Max expected, she soon sauntered across the shop toward them with latte and muffin in hand. “Hey,” she greeted him, her green eyes dancing.
“Hey yourself. Good run?”
“Yeah. Weirdly boring without you.” Her gaze moved to Tate. “Hello, you must be Tate, Max’s sponsor. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Tate held out his hand. “All good things, I hope.” He smiled widely.
Max rolled his eyes.
Grace laughed. “Oh, yeah, all good things.”
Tate’s head turned toward Max, who sighed. “This is Grace,” Max introduced. “She’s my running partner.”
“Running partner, huh?” The expression on Tate’s face said he thought Max was full of shit. Well, he could think whatever the hell he liked.
“Yes,” Grace said. “You interrupted an important run today.” Her playful smile was lovely, and Max watched Tate fall headfirst to its captivating power.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Tate played along. “Maybe I can buy you a coffee to make it up to you.”
Max cleared his throat and crossed his arms, not knowing where to look while his sponsor hit on his … friend.
“Thank you, but I have some already,” Grace answered, lifting her cup.
Max wasn’t about to step in, unless she looked uncomfortable. Besides, Tate was harmless. An asshole, but harmless all the same.
“Hey, Max,” she said, “could you meet me at the cottage by the stream later? I’m working, but I can be there at three thirty.” She seemed nervous.
“Should I be worried?”
“Oh, no. I just need your help with something.”
“I’ll be there.”
She smiled again. “Great. It was nice meeting you, Tate.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Grace.” Tate’s eyes never left her until she disappeared down the street.
Max waited with bated breath.
“Okay,” Tate ordered, his index finger pressed into the table. “Fucking spill. Who is she, and why the hell haven’t you talked about her before? And don’t give me that running-partner bullshit. She’s hot for you, and if you aren’t hitting that, I’m revoking your man card right now.”
Max laughed despite himself. “She’s not hot for me. It’s not like that.”
Tate gaped; mouth and palms open, looking a lot like his brother Riley. “She’s so hot for you. How can you— Whatever. Why are you not all over her like a damned rash?”
Max ran a hand through his hair. “We’re friends.”
“With benefits?”
Max stared at his coffee mug. “Sort of.”
Tate sat back. “We need more coffee and one of those fucking great muffins—and then you’re gonna tell me everything.”
It was going to be a long-ass morning.