Chapter Four

Throughout the day on Friday, Rob couldn’t stop checking his watch. Didn’t help that he’d been stuck in meetings starting at eight in the morning. They ran pretty much straight through until four in the afternoon.

Thank goodness he’d asked Mallory, his assistant, to block out the time after that, or he was positive someone with a masochistic streak would’ve sent him a meeting request.

At least the morning meetings had been conference calls. He took them in his office and half listened while flipping through the photos he’d taken during his hike. That kept him from contemplating all the things he wanted to do to Brian that were entirely inappropriate for a first date.

Brian didn’t seem the type to fuck ten minutes after meeting—or they would have. He still didn’t have a sense of what Brian wanted or expected. A hookup? A relationship? Friends with benefits?

The sexual attraction was there, certainly.

Do you really want to date a workaholic like you? He was better now, but the scars of overworking were still there. The regrets. The pain. Then again, dating would be better than living like a hermit, and it looked like someone needed to pull Brian out of that shop once in a while.

Might as well be him.

After he grabbed a quick lunch, the afternoon meetings with staff kept him engaged so his mind didn’t wander far—just enough to worry that the day would never end.

But it did and as soon as the clock ticked over to five, Rob was out the door. He’d stripped off his suit jacket and tie, folded those into his backpack, and grabbed his bike. Didn’t take too long to ride to his house, a rambling old Victorian he’d bought for a steal. The house had needed renovations back then, but it was sound and had great bones. A quick shower and a change into jeans and a t-shirt had him looking like a normal human being and not a CEO.

He chose to drive rather than bike—better not to arrive a sweaty mess, and he had no idea how late they’d be out. He was a touch early, but he didn’t think Brian would mind.

Given the fucking huge grin that nearly split Brian’s face in two—no, he didn’t. At all. And there was part of the answer Rob sought.

This was more to Brian than a fling or a hookup.

That both relaxed him and warmed his heart. At this point in his life, he wanted more. Would have settled for less, but he’d had enough of casual hookups and random sex. He took his seat at the counter and laid his iPad down.

“Hey,” Brian said. “Be with you in a few.” He was steaming milk and there was a line of customers at the counter.

“Of course.” Customers always came first—especially in a service business.

Brian worked as smoothly as normal, gliding through each drink and somehow managing to keep the orders in his head. It was more than Rob could manage—he had to write everything down. Desk littered with sticky notes.

Watching Brian work was a joy. There was something sensual in the way Brian held his hands, his body, and how he focused on each task. Brian clearly loved his work—that came out in every beautiful movement.

Rob couldn’t help but wonder if that passion, attention, and focus extended to the bedroom. To be under those hands and eyes—he wanted that, desperately.

He ran a hand over his iPad cover. There were also the photos he both ached and feared to show Brian. He’d taken up photography as a hobby, sat through a few courses, read as much as he could—but he’d never shared this part of himself before.

It was private and his.

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’t hate the 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 a complete pain 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 say American. 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 were thinking about the question. “Truthfully? No.”

Still didn’t make sense. But he had Brian’s hand and they were on a date. He’d figure out what was behind those brown eyes eventually.

Another block and they were at the small restaurant. Didn’t look like much from the outside, but the inside was warm and inviting. Red and brown hues to the decorations and the food smelled fantastic. They were shown to a small table for two.

After they ordered, Brian took a deep breath, put his folded hands on the table, and spoke. “So, how was the hike?”

Truly a first date, complete with an utterly adorable nervous partner. “It was lovely. So many trees budding or blooming. Tiny flowers. Ferns. Wait—” He flipped open the iPad, brought up the gallery, and handed it over.

Brian laid the tablet down and stared. Slowly, he flipped through each photograph, sometimes sliding back to the previous one. About halfway though, he focused on Rob. “These are incredible. You have a fantastic eye for light and composition.”

That sounded like the praise of someone who understood photography. “Do you—are you a photographer?”

Happy lines from his smile lit Brian’s face. “Believe it or not, I have a bachelor of fine arts, with a concentration in drawing, painting, printmaking, and photography.”

Well, that explained that. Rob stared back. “Isn’t an artist owning a coffee shop a little cliché?”

Brian laughed outright at that, and a nearby couple glanced their way. When he caught his breath, he answered. “Not really. Artists and writers hang out at coffee shops. You need to be out of your mind to run one.” He flipped through more of the photographs. “Seriously, though. These are wonderful. You should make some prints and sell them.”

“Sell . . . them?” Piddling, useless little things like that? Who’d be interested in a photo of fern heads in leaf litter?

A moment later, their food came.

Brian closed the iPad and set it to the side. They thanked their server and dug in. “Lots of people buy photographs. You won’t make a ton of money, but . . .” He took a bite of his noodle dish.

He didn’t need the money. Hadn’t in a very long time. He shifted in his seat and ripped basil into his pho. “I don’t share my photos with anyone. It’s . . . not something people want from me.”

Brian lifted an eyebrow.

He supposed he needed to quantify that, somehow. “I was pushed very heavily by my parents to not have anything to do with the arts. We were barely scraping by growing up. Maths and science were seen as the way out of that. Art was . . . a luxury.”

“So you don’t want to be seen as indulging in something so trivial?” There was a hard edge to Brian’s voice.

“No.” He craved art, almost as much as companionship. “It’s . . . complicated.” He stirred the bean sprouts into the bowl. “I suppose . . . at some level, I don’t want to dishonor my parent’s memory. Even though—” He broke off. He’d hated the way they’d treated him. His drawings. His love of color. But this path was too damn painful, still.

Brian’s mouth snapped shut. He struggled for a few moments, then spoke. “They’re gone?”

God, he hated that phrase, as if his parents had taken a trip somewhere and would be back later. “They’re dead. Dad had a heart attack several years back. My mother—” Grief welled up inside Rob. He should have been there for his mum, not halfway around the world, working too hard to answer his phone before his father had died. He shook his head. “Do you mind if we change the subject?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Poor thing looked crestfallen.

He couldn’t blame Brian, not after dropping that particular bomb. “You weren’t. Point of a date is to get to know each other.”

There was that flush again. “I do want to get to know you.” He eyed the tablet. “You know, if you sent me the raw files, I could make up some prints. I have access to the equipment I need. You could see how you felt about having physical copies—for yourself.”

He followed Brian’s gaze. It was a good idea, actually. Something to force himself out of that particularly nasty mind-set. “Why don’t you pick the ones you think would work best,” he said. He didn’t have the eye or the heart. All of his photos were both precious and horrible.

A faint but beautiful smile. “I can do that.”

They settled in to eating their dinners, and an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to kill the conversation entirely. He set down his spoon. “What about you? Still pursue the arts?”

Brian leaned back. “I used to. But, like everything else, it takes time. I do miss it, though. I loved to sketch with charcoals. Great for capturing the older industrial side of Pittsburgh.”

“You like the urban industrial, too.” Rob felt the past—his childhood—rise up and settle like a lump against his heart. “I grew up in an old coal town. Struggling. Some jobs in manufacturing.” Not the easiest place to grow and thrive, especially when gay.

Brian nodded slowly. “So a place like Pittsburgh?”

“Except it never had a renaissance.” Never had a chance. After he’d buried his mother, Rob hadn’t been back, but he kept up with a few old acquaintances from time to time. The ones who still talked to him. “I’m not very good at changing the subject, am I?”

A pained smile from Brian. “Ask me some more questions?”

What do you want, Bri? But that wasn’t something to say yet. “Since we’re on the subject of family . . .”

That got him a much warmer expression. “Like I said, I grew up in Bloomfield. My folks are still there. I have an older brother and a younger sister. And a metric ton of cousins and uncles and aunts.”

“A big family.” There was the longing, the need, the desire to be connected. He had nothing. “Only child,” he added.

Brian shrugged lightly. “We’re Italian.”

He studied Brian, who looked, to his eyes—utterly American. “You never told me your last name.”

Brian laughed. “You haven’t either, you know.” He took a bite of his dish.

Touché. “Ancroft. Robert Ancroft.”

Brian repeated the name in his flat American accent. “You prefer Rob?”

“Over Robert? With friends, yes.” And lovers. “Robert is—too formal.”

Brian set down his fork. “Mine’s Keppler.”

“Like the astronomer?”

“Well, two ps, but yes.”

Brian Keppler. Nice. Rob rolled it around in his head. “But Keppler isn’t Italian.”

A snort. “Yeah. It’s German. I’m like an eighth German and the rest is Italian, but my branch of the family ended up with the German name.” He reclaimed his fork and set to eating again. “It’s a hell of a lot easier to spell than Nascimbeni, though.”

A laugh bubbled up in Rob and broke through the painful knot in his chest. “That’s true.”

They settled into talking about Brian’s family. His older brother had gone into the military and ended up a pilot in the air force. He flew commercially now. His sister was a biologist working in a research lab for one of the billion hospitals in Pittsburgh. They still all saw one another once a month.

“Family’s important,” Brian said.

Rob hid his wince. Time to change the subject again. “How’d you end up owning a coffee shop?”

“That’s a long story,” Brian said. He pushed his empty plate away. “Short form is that a friend opened one where Grounds N’at is now and I took a job as a barista there. He had horrible business sense, was pretty much a slacker, and when he realized it was damn hard work, he offered the whole thing to me for a song.”

“That was a hell of a risk.” Taking on a failing business and making it work was also quite an accomplishment.

Brian shrugged. “People liked the shop a lot. I mean, there’s a ton of coffee places in Squirrel Hill, but we had regulars. I created the drink menu when I started and, well, it seemed a shame to close when all that was needed was some hard work.”

So Brian the artist had become Brian the businessman. “And it’s doing well now? Aside from the staffing issue?”

Brian’s face twisted. “It’s okay at the moment. But running a food service—it’s never easy. You’re always two steps away from disaster.”

Hence the long hours. Sounded quite a bit like creating a startup, except for Rob, the days of constant work and worry were done. CirroBot could stand on its own now. “It’s a lovely shop, Bri.”

Brian dipped his head, his smile faint and embarrassment clear. “Thanks.”

The server cleared their plates and brought the dessert menu.

From Brian’s expression, there wasn’t anything he saw there that appealed to him.

Nothing piqued Rob’s interest, either. “I think I spied an ice cream place up on Forbes?”

“You did.” There was a glint in Brian’s eyes. “Shall we take a walk?”

“Could use one, yes.” Walk off some dinner, get a treat, and maybe without this table between them, they could get a bit closer.

They paid and headed out. Brian didn’t pull away when Rob took his hand. In fact, it was Brian who tangled their fingers together.

Rob let out a breath. “I wasn’t sure how you felt.” Especially after the whole family conversation.

A soft chuckle. “That makes two of us.”

After all that flirting? He glanced at Brian. Had Rob somehow given off the wrong impression? “I’m very interested, Bri. I hope you’ll give me a chance.”

Another laugh—this one had the edge of nervousness. “I know. You’re—” He swallowed. “I never thought you weren’t interested.”

Oh. So it was Brian who also didn’t know what Brian wanted. He would have let go if Brian hadn’t been holding his hand so tight. “Are you—”

“Yes.” A quiet answer. “Yes, I am.” There was almost a wonderment about those words.

Rob ran through all their interactions again. They did seem to be pointing in one particular direction—and if Rob was right—he needed to let Brian lead the way. Rob gave Brian’s hand a gentle squeeze, and they stopped briefly at his car to drop off the iPad before continuing up the hill.

They reached the top of Murray Avenue where it intersected with Forbes and the ice cream parlor on the corner. Two cones later, they were walking hand in hand again. Now that the sun had fallen behind the horizon, the air had cooled. Still, they meandered down the business district, stopping to look in windows. This time, the quiet between them was cozy and warm. They were, for a time, on the same page—whatever page that was.

I like you, Bri. It had been a while since he’d even bothered aiming for a relationship. He didn’t have family. Couldn’t keep his own mother alive. The last guy he’d “dated” wanted only sex and cash. Work had been a blessing in a way—it kept people at a distance.

He’d hooked up once or twice since the fiasco with Greg. Stellar sex, which made him feel all the more lonely. Therapy had helped. And now?

Now he was walking down a street, holding Brian’s hand and eating ice cream. So maybe he was ready for more. “Sometimes it’s hard being what’s left of your family.”

Brian slowed. “And you’re over here and not there.”

Yes. A different country, but that didn’t bother him. “I’d rather be here, to be honest. I miss England from time to time, but I built my life here.” He paused. “And I’m a citizen now, so this is home.” He waved at the street.

They stood by the window of a sweets shop and Brian faced him, his cone half eaten. “I wouldn’t mind hearing that story sometime, if you want to share.” Little blotches of melted ice cream slid down his fingers.

“Thank you.” It was a kindness, both the offer and the realization that Rob might not want to share. “It’s mostly boring, but—yes. I’ll tell you sometime.” Not tonight, because the walls of his past were too thin. Something about Brian seemed strangely fragile, too. He stared at the ice cream on Brian’s fingers.

Brian must have noticed, because he stretched out the digits and looked. A sly smile curled his lips. “You do have a thing for cream, don’t you?”

From melancholy to horny in no time flat. He drew in a breath. “I do, yes.” He certainly wanted a taste of Brian.

Brian shivered. He tried to hide it, but Rob knew the dance well enough to see. He let his gaze move down Brian’s body, and yes, that answer had made an impression. “Don’t want you getting dirty.”

“Oh,” Brian said as he untangled his fingers from Rob’s and switched the cone to the other hand. “I doubt that.” He licked the drops of ice cream off his fingers.

Rob didn’t bother to hide the tremor that ran through him, his intake of breath, or the hardening of his cock. Brian was very thorough sucking and licking and it didn’t take that much imagination at all to think of that mouth and tongue on his shaft.

Brian finished the rest of his cone and crumpled the wrapper into his hand. “You’re getting ice cream on yourself, too.”

Rob looked at his own mostly eaten cone, and yes, chocolate had dripped onto his fingers. “Do you want to lick them clean, as well?”

Brian’s brows shot up into his hairline and he inhaled. The answer was as plain as day on his face, though he didn’t say a word.

Rob finished his cone, stepped in, and held out his hand.

The vein in Brian’s neck pulsed out a fast beat and he seemed to stop breathing. But then he moved forward and his lips pressed against the chocolate on Rob’s forefinger.

Rob gasped. Couldn’t help it, not with Brian’s tongue rasping against his skin and those warm lips sucking so gently. That touch radiated out and set every part of his skin on fire. Brian took his wrist and kissed and sucked all of the chocolate away, leaving Rob breathless, hard, and shaken. He’d wanted the touch of those lips far too much, wanted more of Brian so badly.

“Better?” Brian’s voice was shaky and thin.

“Yes.” He cupped the back of Brian’s neck and drew him into the kiss he needed more than air. Same warmth to Brian’s lips, but now they were moving on Rob’s. A faint taste of chocolate against Rob’s tongue as he opened Brian’s mouth and deepened the kiss.

Brian moaned softly, barely audible over the rapid rush of blood in Rob’s head. Their bodies pressed together, their hard lengths brushing each other. Rob gripped Brian’s waist and pulled him close.

God, this man. Soft and hard. Forceful, yet yielding as he surrendered to Rob—then demanded the same in return.

They broke apart slowly. Brian’s eyes were wide and he licked his lips. “Chocolate.”

“And cookie dough.” Brian’s ice cream flavor.

Brian laughed, but it was tight. Too tight. “There’s something I should tell you.”

A throb of cold leached through Rob. He loosened his hold, opening space between them. “Yes?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

Rob’s heart hammered in his chest. “Licked ice cream off of a guy’s fingers?”

“Well, that, too.” Golden eyelashes flicked up and Rob was staring into Brian’s eyes. “I’ve never kissed a man before.”

Oh. Shit. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t help that his first instinct was to giggle, because there was no way that kiss was from a straight guy. He finally found some words. “But you’re interested in me?”

“Oh, God, yes.” It came out in a tumble, all strung together. “I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Standing on a sidewalk in public in Squirrel Hill. Rob slid his hands into Brian’s. “You’re not straight, are you?” He couldn’t be. Closeted? Maybe.

“No I’m—” He swallowed and spoke through a tight voice. “I’m bi. Bisexual.” Brian shook, and the deep lines were back in his brow. Tension upon tension. It wasn’t nervousness—it was terror.

Everything clicked into place. All the hesitation, all the uncertainty.

Gay guys weren’t always kind to bi guys. So many myths that led to cruel rejections. He’d seen that a few times. He knew that fear, too. Wondering if you’d made a mistake. Picked the wrong guy. Worried that heaven would quickly turn to hell and hate.

“Oh, Bri.” Rob pulled him into a hug, his voice thick in his ears. “It’s absolutely fine to be bi.”

All the tension left Brian and for a moment, Rob was certain he was the only thing keeping Brian on his feet. Deep breaths that evened out. Brian found his strength and pulled back. “I don’t live that far from here. Would you—” He bit his lip.

“I’ll walk with you.” He took Brian’s hand at let him lead the way. He wouldn’t spend the night, though. Not after that, no matter how hard he was or how much he wanted Brian.

From the heat of Brian’s hand, the flush on his skin, and the moisture Rob spotted at the corner of Brian’s eyes, he had a feeling Brian was too ripped apart inside to make any good judgment calls.

He wouldn’t take advantage of that. He wanted more than a quick fuck—he wanted another date. Many, many other dates. He was tired of meaningless sex. Too old for that.

They walked around the block and back toward Murray Avenue on a street that ran parallel to Forbes. About halfway down the block, they came to a three-story house. “I live on the third floor,” Brian said.

Very close to Grounds N’at. No wonder Brian could take so many shifts.

They stopped on the small covered porch and Brian paused by the door. “Do you want to come up?” Hope in Brian’s voice and nerves everywhere else.

Again, Rob drew Brian close and kissed him, this time a tad more demanding. Wanting. Needy. They came together as before. No question as to their mutual desire. Brian was rock-hard. When Rob cupped his arse and ground against him, Brian made a little helpless sound in the back of his throat.

Lips sliding against lips and tongues fighting for purchase. Brian may have never kissed a guy before, but he had the whole process down pat.

God bless the women Brian had dated.

From the way Brian ran his hands down Rob’s back, pressing fingers into muscle, when they did make it into bed, it would be hot and heavy and give them both bruises. Brian kissed like he wanted to climb Rob’s body.

He wouldn’t mind that at all. A hot, horny guy who’d never had cock, but came with years of experience? Sounded exactly like Rob’s idea of fun.

Except tonight was not that night. He gently separated from Brian. “I want you very very badly.” He stroked a thumb over Brian’s cheek. “But I’m not going to come up tonight.”

He steeled himself for Brian’s disappointment, but his heart still flipped when it came. The furrowed brow, the way he pulled back. “Why?”

“I generally don’t fuck on the first date.” True, though he didn’t date all that often. “I don’t want this to be some kind of hookup. I want more than that—or at least the space for it to grow.”

That smoothed out a great deal of those lines. Brian exhaled. “I’m really crappy with relationships.” Brian leaned into Rob’s touch. “But I want more than a hookup, too.”

“Then it’s settled.” He kissed Brian again and lingered, loving the taste of his desperate need.

When they broke apart, Brian’s breath was rough. “You’re going to keep me up all night.”

He liked that idea, too. Brian tossing and turning, jacking off to thoughts of him. He stepped close and whispered into Brian’s ear, “After our next date, I’m going to find out what the rest of you tastes like.”

“Fuck.” It came out like a moan.

“Good night, Bri.”

Brian swallowed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Not really.” He took one of Brian’s hands and pressed it against his hard shaft.

Another bob of Brian’s Adam’s apple. Fingers explored his length through denim and for a moment, he regretted not letting Brian take him upstairs.

Brian kissed his cheek. “Well now you can think about me, too.”

Oh, they were going to have fun. “I will be.” He stole another quick kiss. “Talk to you tomorrow?” He stepped back.

“You have my number.” A quirky, sexy smile accompanied that.

He certainly did. Rob chuckled and waved, then headed back to his car before he changed his mind.

Given that his own head was spinning from Brian’s admission, he had no doubt Brian’s must be ready to fly off into the sky. Better to wait and do this right than to fuck the whole thing up.

He’d had enough of fucking things up to last a lifetime.