Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
HEATH
I stared at my laptop screen, but the letters swam together like alphabet soup. I glanced up as the chime over A Whole Latte Love’s door dinged with a new arrival. Again.
You need to focus. I should’ve picked another spot to meet. It wouldn’t help me get my research analyzed if I constantly rubber-necked the door at every sound. Without writing up my research and submitting it to peer-reviewed publications, I wouldn’t have a chance at tenure next year.
When my department chair suggested my tenure application would be significantly stronger with one more publication credit, I knew to listen.
What I didn’t need was a distraction. Even a cute, charming one that had me thinking about more than work for the first time in a long time. I knew I could’ve declined Ben’s offer to crochet while I worked, but something about him, the way we’d met, the gut feeling that had me leaning into it, told me it was time to figure out a way to date and focus on work.
I huffed a frustrated breath and told myself to relax. Sure, we’d clicked at our first meeting the other day—at least I thought we had—but two queer guys getting along didn’t automatically equal romance, despite what my X-rated dreams last night might indicate.
Focus, Heath. This is important. I was writing notes about running some analysis when the door chimed again. Ben entered with a halo of sunlight shining behind him. He wore the same sage-green scrubs as two days ago. They snugly fit his lean frame.
The scrubs barely triggered a negative response, which was certainly new. Ever since Dad had gotten sick, I’d associated scrubs with bad news. Even when I went to the doctor or dentist for routine check-ups, I had to remind myself I was okay. The scrubs weren’t a harbinger of death. Getting to know Ben a bit the other day had given me something positive to associate with the uniform, and I was grateful.
Ben scanned the room and waved when he spotted me. I returned it and felt a stretch in my cheeks from my wide smile.
He chatted with the barista while I made a note of where to pick back up. His presence brightened the space as he approached with his coffee and pastry.
“Hey. Good to see you.”
He set his coffee and a reusable grocery bag from the local market on the table and then pulled the chair back. “You too. Don’t worry, I promise to be quiet and let you work, but I am curious how you’re doing.”
Something about the genuine curiosity in his tone had me sitting taller. “My week’s better now.” I suppose my mouth and brain had colluded to make room for romance alongside work. Pink colored Ben’s pale cheeks. “The research is going slow, but sometimes that happens. How have the past couple of days been for you?” I leaned back in my chair. Maybe if we talked for a few minutes, I’d be able to focus better after.
Ben chatted a mile a minute while he unpacked his supplies. He talked about a patient who got good news and how that had made his entire week. Seeing how he lit up while talking about his oncology patients healed another fissure in my heart.
“I made these last night with the yarn you had.” He handed me three granny squares. White and purple, white and blue, and white and red. “This is one your uncle made.” He gave me a white-and-orange one.
It was impossible to tell them apart. They were the same size and the gaps in the symmetrical pattern were identical.
“You’ve been busy. They look amazing.”
Ben beamed at me. “I figured out the pattern pretty quickly, but determining the hook size took some troubleshooting.”
I asked how he figured that out, and he explained how hook size affected the finished dimensions of the piece. I grew more fascinated by this craft the more he shared.
“Also, I think I found a solid substitute yarn to finish the project. A shipment of the skeins I need should arrive in a few days.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. He was taking this so seriously.
“Let me know how much it is. I want to pay.”
Ben frowned but nodded. “I had planned to pay for it, but since you brought it up, I had to sign paperwork as a volunteer agreeing to tell you the costs. Damn me for being a rule follower, but I ordered from a place that offers discounts for Patchwork Projects volunteers.”
“I’m not worried about the cost. I wish the organization would let me pay for your time.” I wanted to invite him to dinner to thank him for all the time he’d be investing, but that felt presumptuous.
Ben smiled graciously as he wound the yarn around the fingers of his left hand and held the hook in his right.
“I’m curious how many squares it will take to finish the blanket. The process fascinates me.”
Ben hummed. “Given the size you told me you wanted, I’d say roughly a hundred and twenty.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot. How long does it take you to do a square?”
Ben tilted his head to the side as he stared at the ceiling, and his lips moved silently like he was doing mental math. “Depending on how distracted I am by the TV, probably thirty to sixty minutes.” He smiled sheepishly. “If the show has subtitles, even longer.”
I wanted to know about his favorite shows to watch, but if I asked that, we’d spend the rest of the evening talking at the expense of my work. Restraint. I could practice that and allow myself to enjoy Ben in small doses while making progress on my research. Balance was key.
I did some mental math as I roughly calculated how much time it would take to finish the blanket. My eyes widened when I arrived at the number. “That’s a ton of time. I’m honored you would give so much of yourself.”
Ben’s smile was warm, but there was something more there. A sparkle in his eyes that had my stomach twisting with joy. Could he be interested in me too?
“It’s a lot of coffee shop visits if you’re up for it.”
The look we shared was more than casual friendliness between two new acquaintances. My pulse quickened.
“It’s a good thing I have a lot of research to do.”
Ben set the hook down, then raised his coffee. “Cheers to that. Well, I’ve interrupted you enough. I’ll let you get back to work so you don’t think I’m a bad influence. I don’t want our coffee shop time to end before it has even begun.”
The energy shifted away from butterfly flutters to something deeper, more eager. It’d been a long time since I dated anyone. Work had come first for so long, but now that I was on the cusp of earning tenure—finally—I realized I was ready for more in my life. A partner. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was potential for Ben to be that person.
As Ben pulled earbuds from his bag, I asked what he was listening to.
Ben eagerly leaned forward. “It’s a podcast where the host interviews an expert on a different topic in each episode. I like getting to dip my toes in and learn about a wide range of things, from the lifecycles of cicadas to theories around black holes in space. Last week’s episode was fascinating. It was about wildfires, land stewardship, and the importance of indigenous knowledge in fire management.”
I had to run through his words in my mind to make sure I’d heard him correctly. “Seriously? That’s my area of research. I’m a fire ecologist, and all this”—I gestured to my notes and laptop—“is about predictive modeling of the effects of wildfires in the Pacific Northwest. I’m working with several local tribes—” I actively stopped myself from going super nerd with too much detail.
Ben slammed his palm on the table. “Tell. Me. Everything.” He tucked his other hand under his chin and stared at me expectantly.
So I did. Ben asked thoughtful questions that helped my brain puzzle through some of the places I’d been blocked. After we talked for a while, he put his earbuds in and began crocheting while I typed like my hands were on fire. Instead of being a distraction, Ben might be exactly what I needed to complete this work.