“Did you have a particular day in mind?”
“Tonight? I mean, whenever you’re done with your workout. Unless you have other plans?”
Jesus, where had his old playbook gone? Confident with a touch of apathy had worked like a charm since puberty. Right now, he sounded eager.
Way too eager.
“I wasn’t expecting that.” Oliver lowered his gaze.
Shite. “I know it’s last minute, but no pressure. Just coffee and conversation.”
“Conversation.” Oliver repeated skeptically, and Matthew couldn’t blame him. This guy had been minding his own business, lunging his sexy ass off, when the owner’s brother started hitting on him. He was honest, sure, but he might be too polite to tell Matthew to get lost.
He should walk away and forget this ever happened. Rory and Robert never would, and those two were both as gossipy as old women at a bingo parlor, but he’d asked for it when he’d asked for their advice in the first place.
“Look, Oliver, don’t worry abou—”
“I need to shower first,” he said abruptly. “There’s a coffee place around the corner that I like, but I’ll be at least a half an hour. Do you know it? I can meet you there when I’m done.”
He was saying yes? Holy mother of merciful— “Yes. I mean, that’s grand. Fine. Just fine.”
Oliver hesitated. “For clarification purposes, this conversation you want to have isn’t about an issue with my gym membership or based on a bet of any kind?”
Matthew felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “What? No. No. Neither of those things. Why would you think that?”
When he just shrugged, Matthew ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I must be doing this completely wrong then, yeah?”
Oliver lips twitched. “That’s usually my line. Is it bad that I like not being the one to say it?”
“Glad my inadequacies amuse you.” Matthew grinned weakly. “My turn to be blunt. I find you attractive and I would like to spend some time with you when you’re not otherwise occupied and my family isn’t trying to listen in. That’s the gist of it. Clear enough?”
He stared hard at Matthew for long moments before nodding. “Okay then.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”
Oliver grabbed his towel and empty water bottle, strolling slowly toward the locker room without looking back.
A date. He’d said yes.
But first he’s going to take a shower. A long. Hot. Shower.
Matthew had helped William grout the tile in the locker rooms, so he was intimately familiar with that shower. Which meant it was easy enough to visualize Oliver walking over to the row of lockers before tugging off his tank and dropping his pornographic shorts to step beneath the pounding spray.
It took more willpower than it should have for Matthew not to follow after him, offering to skip the coffee and wash his back instead. He could practically feel that golden skin, slippery and wet under his hands. Taste the salt as he licked a thorough trail down to that round, edible ass.
Have some self-respect and let the man shower in peace, for God’s sake.
“Did he break you, Matthew?” Rory teased from across the room. “Can you feel your arms and legs? Blink if you can understand me.”
Maybe Oliver had broken him. He’d completely forgotten he wasn’t alone. “I’m fine. Your first-aid skills won’t be required at this time.”
“Those skills might not be,” Rory specified as Matthew rejoined them. “But if that little exercise was anything to go by, you’ll need more help from us.”
Robert was leaning on his elbows, grinning even as he shook his head. “You work fast, I’ll give you that. Even for a Finn.”
Matthew scowled. “You heard us?”
“We heard you from, ‘Hey.’” Rory pointed to the ceiling. “This place is an echo chamber. Which is a good thing, in my opinion. Why coffee?”
“It slipped out. But I thought that would be harmless enough. A drink would be too pushy, a meal might be too much of a commitment.”
A motel room and handcuffs could send Oliver screaming into the night.
“What’s wrong with coffee?” Robert asked Rory. “I’ve got nothing but respect for that. He’s being a gentleman and giving the man a brightly lit public venue with an easy escape route.”
Matthew made a face. “Wasn’t planning on attacking him, Nora.”
Robert shrugged apologetically. “Sorry about that. Three sisters and a brother on the force. Dates always came with scheduled call-ins and safety drills. Men can be assholes.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Rory mumbled, rubbing his temples. “And yes, coffee dates are respectful. They’re also perfect for deep conversations. At a bar, the music and crowds can drown out anything that isn’t light banter. But coffee means Matthew will be walking through a veritable minefield of potential verbal blunders, and you heard it for yourself. He can barely talk to Oliver as it is.”
Knots started reforming in his stomach. “I want to get to know him. Isn’t that why I introduced myself?”
“Barbie has a point.”
Rory turned to glare at Robert. “Barbie?”
“If you don’t like it stop calling me Nora.”
It was like herding bantering cats with these two. “What point is that, Robert?”
“Speaking from experience, the first half hour of a date can make or break you. Make, as in you might eventually get another date and the potential for some action. Break as in he walks out and tosses his membership and my commission in the trash for good measure, all because you stuck your big Irish foot in your mouth.”
No pressure. Isn’t that what he’d told Oliver? Rory and Robert hadn’t gotten that memo. “So what do I do?”
“Is the advice window open?” Rory asked hopefully.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Afraid not,” Robert said, laughing. “Barbie and I are in this now. I can’t wait to tell your brother. He is going to—”
Matthew sent him a warning look.
“Never hear about this from me,” Robert finished slowly, disappointment sagging his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut, but I should at least get more food out of this.”
“Leftovers from the next Finn Again?” Matthew offered.
“That could be arranged,” Rory said agreeably. “We did just flip another Finn over to the Gay Side. That deserves some kind of compensation.”
He wasn’t flipped, damn it. He was…
Fuck it all. He wasn’t sure what he was.
Excited? Confused? Horny as hell and wishing you were in the shower with Oliver?
Yes. To all of the above.
“Coffee,” Matthew corrected his cousin sternly. “For the moment, that’s all this is.”
“And if you don’t play your cards right, that’s all it’s ever going to be.”
“Ignore Nora. He’s a downer.” Rory slid his arm through Matthew’s, guiding him back to his seat. “We need to hurry. We don’t have much time to Cinderfella your oral skills. And yes, you can take that any way you want.”
Matthew eyed the men warily, wondering again why he’d thought they would be the best people to help him with his prickly problem.
Pickle problem. As in, you are in one right now. A big one. And yes, you can take that any way you want.
Chapter Three
Rory: The most important thing to remember is that this coffee date is all about him. Ask him questions about himself and then—and this is crucial—actually listen like there might be a pop quiz later. Don’t be the dick that only talks about himself and his badass Irish upbringing.
Robert: That’s what happened on my last date. I thought she’d like hearing about my trip to Greece. Big mistake.
Rory: Yeah, yeah, we’ll solve your problems later, Nora.
Matthew sat at the small, kitschy coffee shop across from a freshly showered Oliver, admiring the way he wore his street clothes nearly as much as he’
d admired those workout shorts. Maybe more, since he’d seen a few men eyeing his date when he walked in and knew he’d have had to fight them off if they’d gotten a look at those sexy bare legs.
Despite all the warnings, the first half hour hadn’t been about conversation at all. Oliver had been too busy inhaling the three blueberry muffins and dozen chocolate chip cookies he’d ordered to go with his large caramel-flavored coffee. The man had a bottomless stomach.
And not a little pride. As soon as he joined Matthew, he’d announced he’d be paying for his portion of the bill, as if he weren’t entirely willing to consider this a date.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Look at how much he’s eating after that workout. He’s obviously lightheaded from hunger.
“We should have gone for pizza instead. I didn’t realize you’d missed dinner.”
He could have offered him some of the leftovers, if Rory and Robert hadn’t inhaled everything before he’d left.
Oliver smiled sheepishly, brushing the crumbs from his chin and the bow-shaped lips that kept drawing Matthew’s gaze.
“I had a turkey sub in my locker and ate it halfway through my workout. I’m still this hungry because I’m always hungry. My metabolism is freakish. My poor grandmother swore I was on drugs for years. It was the only way she could explain her smallest grandchild eating more than everyone else combined.”
“Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite.”
Did that sound sexual?
Only to you, idiot. Stop staring at his mouth.
“How many grandchildren does she have then?”
“You don’t want to hear about my family,” he said firmly, softening his decree with an irresistible grin. “It’s big, crazy and full of constant drama. We’d be here all night.”
“You’ve got one of those, too? Fancy that.” Matthew chuckled, fingers tracing his cup so he wouldn’t reach for Oliver’s hand. “Mine is growing so fast we’ll need to rent out an auditorium for family gatherings soon.”
“Why did you say you were still getting used to them?”
“So I can’t ask but you can?”
“Yes.” Oliver lifted his chin in challenge.
Fair enough. He wanted this man to trust him, didn’t he?
“Now that’s a story,” Matthew started, rubbing his hands together. “I’m not sure if William told you, but I only found out about most of them a few years ago, when I moved to the States. Until then, I’d grown up believing I only had one brother, one sister and one Grump.”
“Grump?”
“Paternal grandfather. It’s a term of endearment.” More of an accurate descriptor for the irascible Aaron Finn. “He never thought I was on drugs, but most of the time he was convinced I was using my computer skills to cheat on tests. The old sourpuss wouldn’t acknowledge my genius and let me skip a grade, he was that sure I’d found a way to rig the system.”
Oliver made a face. “So Grump fits.”
Way to turn him on. Now tell him about the time you got pantsed in fourth grade.
“And the front desk guy is related to William’s wife, right?”
Matthew grinned. “Yes, that’s my brother-in-law, Robert. The Waynes are an even more recent addition. Another big family, and what with two of them marrying into the Finn clan and bringing the rest with them, you can see what I mean about the rapid growth issue.”
“Two Waynes married two Finns?” Oliver snorted. “Sounds confusing.”
“Bronte’s other brother, Hugo, married my cousin, Solomon. And yes, confusing is the word. I took to calling it incestuous once they started making noise about me having a lot in common with the youngest Wayne girl, Shelley.”
When Oliver choked, Matthew quickly added, “I didn’t mean literally, of course. No one’s marrying an actual relative.”
“Do you? Have things in common?”
His head shake was adamant. “We’re both good with computers. That’s the beginning and the end of it.”
Rory was right. This talking shite was for the birds.
“You enjoy them.”
“I suppose I do. Still, I’m not used to the glut of opinions and advice, well-meaning or not. And with so many of them around all the time, it’s impossible to keep anything private. It’s why I had to leave town for a while. Breathe a bit, before coming back.”
“God, yes.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “I can definitely relate to needing space.”
Matthew latched on to that sliver of information like it was made of gold. “Is that why you’ve been hanging out at William’s place? How did you find it before they started advertising?”
Oliver inhaled another chocolate chip cookie before answering. “I was driving around, saw the new sign from the street and thought I’d give it a try. I like the location. Speaking of the gym, you obviously don’t work there, so what is it you do for a living? I bet it’s something to do with those computer skills you mentioned.”
Matthew had the strangest urge to look down at his flat stomach to make sure the washboard was still there. What did he mean it was obvious he didn’t work with William?
And why did he keep changing the subject? “Technical support for software glitches, which is about as exciting as it sounds. Decent health benefits is about all it has going for it.”
Oliver tilted his head curiously. “You’d rather be doing something else?”
“Who wouldn’t? But no matter how desperately I long to be a cowboy, the paycheck keeps pulling me back in.”
The truth was he’d rather be learning from Kenneth Tanaka. The man was a legend among wannabe hackers and pros alike. When he wasn’t helping out the feds and saving the world at large, he was running his own security company and looking after the family. To Matthew, nothing sounded more exciting.
But Tanaka was Brady Finn’s fiancé, and it would feel too much like a handout to ask if there was an opening. His cousins had already done so much for his family, including putting a roof over their heads, getting them into school and saving William’s arse from going to prison. Asking for more would seem ungrateful.
“What are you thinking?”
Matthew leaned his elbows on the table and looked Oliver in the eye. “I’m thinking that you keep redirecting my questions without sharing anything about yourself, and I’m wondering why that is.”
Oliver’s gaze flickered down to Matthew’s lips before licking his own. “Most people like to talk about themselves. I’m not one of them, but I am interested in you.”
“I can respect that. You’ll note for the record that I’m answering all of your questions, however, which makes this coffee date a wee bit one-sided, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“Your accent gets thicker when you’re trying to be charming. If you don’t mind my saying.”
Matthew flattened his hand against his chest dramatically. “Trying to be charming? First, I’m not as attractive as my freckle-faced brother, now this. You’re hell on a man’s ego, Oliver Garcia. For the moment I have enough of it to spare, but it’s not an infinite resource. It could run out eventually.”
“I never said your brother was more attractive.”
“He’s built and I obviously don’t work at the gym.” Matthew grumbled out the reminder in case he’d forgotten.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yes. Fine. Those are undeniable facts. But it’s also obvious you’re no couch potato. You have eyes and a mirror and, like you said, a healthy ego. You know you’ve got that dark-haired, blue-eyed Disney prince thing going on.”
“Disney prince?” Matthew rubbed his jaw to hide his grin, enjoying the stubble scratching his palm. “Are you calling me a pretty boy? You?”
“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t know?”
He pretended to scowl. “You should have seen me when I had my beard. You wouldn’t have called me pretty then—it was a fierce thing to behold.”
“I’m terrified just thinking about it.” The playful twinkle in his eyes was captivating. “Why’d you sha
ve it off?”
“It itched like the devil all summer.”
“Ah. Well, if you’re sharing to try to get me to tell you about my one attempt to grow facial hair in high school, it won’t work.”
“It won’t?” Matthew pretended to bat his eyelashes.
Oliver sighed. “I think I destroyed all the pictures, but there are people still living in the world who know me as Patches.”
Matthew couldn’t imagine it. “I’m glad it didn’t take. Covering that face would be a crime.”
Oliver shrugged one shoulder self-consciously before taking a sip of his coffee.
“There’s whipped cream on your lips,” Matthew informed him huskily.
“Oops.” Oliver licked his lips and Matthew almost groaned out loud.
That should be my job.
Down, boy.
He needed to keep things light. He could practically hear Rory’s advice and Robert’s warnings ringing in his ears. Ask him about himself, dumbass.
He was trying.
“I’m curious, is there any personal information you’re willing to part with? Maybe what you do for a living? I warn you, if you don’t give me something, I’ll have to use my imagination and my skills at deduction, both of which are legendary.”
“Oh, there’s an offer I can’t refuse. Deduce away,” Oliver dared him.
Matthew straightened in his seat. “You’re nineteen, and you look younger but your eyes tell a different story.”
Oliver shifted under the scrutiny. “What story is that?”
Keeping it light, Matthew grinned. “That you’ve spent your life in isolation in the Himalayas, simultaneously seeking enlightenment while training for the Olympics.” He laughed and held out his hands, gesturing to Oliver’s body. “That’s the only way to explain the kind of shape you’re in.”
“Anything else?”
“Only that you’re madly attracted to me.”
Oliver set his cup down, eyes sparkling. “You’re close. I’m twenty-one and I teach dance. Nothing fancy. Think senior citizens learning to tango. I also perform with a local company. I’ve never been out of state or ready to medal in anything, but if there’s a play with a ballroom scene in town, I’ll probably be in the background.”
Obvious Page 3
