Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
“COME ON, STAY closed already,” Liam muttered as he jumped up and used his body weight to help close his full trunk. His car was busting at the seams with everything from cleaning supplies to promotional materials to DIY repair materials—all things he’d need for the grand opening, which would happen in exactly fourteen days.
Work on the locker rooms was scheduled to begin tomorrow. He had no idea if Tate and that Randy guy would show up to complete the work or if a different crew would, but they planned to demolish the old tiles while they waited for the order of new tiles to arrive. When all was said and done, the locker rooms would be comfortable, modern, and spacious—exactly what he wanted.
Of course, nothing would happen if he got stuck in the parking lot of the Tulsa Office Max because his trunk wouldn’t close.
“Freaking close already,” he shouted with a growl as he jumped again. This time, when he came down, practically sitting on the trunk lid, it clicked as the latch caught. “Ha!” He brushed his hands off, then waved to a woman, giving him some serious side-eye. “Good morning.”
She smiled but didn’t return the greeting. Not that he blamed her. He probably looked crazy, talking to himself and slamming on his car.
Liam had gotten an early start that morning, hitting up every store on his list before noon. Now that those tasks were completed, the rest of the day was his to do with as he pleased. He planned to head back to Swan to start setting up the studio’s lobby and merchandise display, but first, he deserved to treat himself to a snack.
About a mile back, he’d passed a trendy coffee shop and had been dreaming of an iced caramel latte ever since. He hopped in his overstuffed Jetta and zipped down the road toward the delicious promise of icy sugar and caffeine.
He pulled in around ten thirty, which seemed to be the ideal time. It was too early for the lunch rush and too late for breakfast, so the parking lot only had a few cars. The silence would give him time to sit in peace, review his lengthy to-do list, and plan the week’s social media marketing posts.
He strode in and straight to the ordering counter. Only a few customers sat at tables, and one ordered in line before him. Other than that, the place was empty and quiet. As he perused the overhead menu, waiting for his turn to order, the hairs on his nape rose to attention. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, but it did nothing to dull the sensation of being watched. Not in a threatening way, but he’d bet his first client’s class fee that someone was staring at him.
Shifting, he rolled his shoulders and tried to relax. Turning now would be too obvious, so he tried to ignore the awareness and focus on the menu.
“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get for you today?” The barista had a flirty tone and a suggestive smile as he batted his eyes at Liam. “You can have anything you’d like.” He leaned in and whispered, “Anything.”
Liam chuckled. The guy was cute in his black polo and pants, with a dark purple apron boasting the shop’s logo. He had dark eyes framed by thick black lashes and artfully styled hair to match. He was a few inches shorter than Liam and slender. Cute, but not Liam’s type, especially since he couldn’t shake the memory of one tall, sexy, closeted man. “I’m flattered, but just a large, iced caramel latte with almond milk and a blueberry muffin for today.”
Pouting, the barista put the order into the computer. “Your loss.”
“No doubt.” He winked. No reason to make the guy feel bad about himself.
“Name for the order?”
“Liam.”
The ego boost seemed to be the trick, and the barista bounced off with a smile to make his coffee. Liam moved down the counter to the designated pick-up area. He leaned against the wall and scanned the room while waiting for his order. About halfway through his sweep, his gaze snagged on the one man he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
Tate sat at a table against a wall with a to-go cup of hot coffee and a bagel. A backward ballcap concealed his shaggy hair, and stubble covered his strong jaw. He wore ripped jeans and a plain black T-shirt with tan work boots. The look fit him—hot, scruffy working man.
Forget his muffin. Liam found his snack right there.
Guess that explained the feeling of being watched, though Tate hadn’t even glanced in Liam’s direction. His attention and deep scowl remained directed at the cute, flirty barista.
Interesting.
“Here’s your order, Liam.” The barista didn’t set it on the counter but held a plate with the muffin and iced coffee out for him to take.
“Thank you.” He accepted the food, but the barista didn’t release it just yet. Liam raised an eyebrow.
The cute barista shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Figured I’d give it one more shot. I left you my number on the napkin. Shoot me a text sometime.” He winked and sashayed away, leaving Liam smiling. Who wouldn’t like attention from a cute guy?
He spun back around and— eek . Tate looked ready to rip the barista’s head off.
Tate shot lasers at the back of the poor guy’s head for another few seconds before shifting his annoyed gaze to Liam. What was it about him that just did it for Liam and made his blood heat with a single stare?
Tate’s facial expression didn’t change, but he lifted a booted foot and pushed the chair opposite him out a few inches.
A non-verbal invitation to sit? More like a command to sit.
How hot was that?
He forced himself to stroll instead of sprinting over to the table like the overeager single man he was.
“Tulsa seems to be our place, huh, hot stuff?” he said as he reached the table.
Discomfort flickered in Tate’s eyes for half a second before he cleared it and nodded. How sad. Liam had gotten so damn lucky with his family and the dance community. No one ever made an issue of him being gay. Everyone he knew accepted him. Now, he’d met plenty of closed-minded and hateful individuals, but the people who mattered had always loved and supported him. But it didn’t seem the same for Tate, which broke Liam’s heart.
Darkness tried to invade his excitement and put a raincloud over his entire day. There had been one time where being an out gay guy had cost him dearly. Once, he’d run into bigots he couldn’t defeat with sass and snark, his usual weapons of choice. Their hatred had nearly cost Liam his life. Recovering from shattered ribs and a broken shoulder had been an uphill battle that almost cost him his dance career. The deep, gruesome bruises had hurt almost as much as the broken bones and left him looking like a victim for months.
Old, traumatic memories tried to worm their way into his consciousness. Things he’d put to bed years ago with the help of rehab and therapy threatened to return and steal his happiness.
He imagined swiping them away as one did an undesirable Grindr date. The visual had worked for him in the past and worked again now.
“So, uh, what are you doing all the way out here in Tulsa this morning?” he asked instead of sitting in tense silence as Tate seemed happy to do.
The man across the table shrugged. “Picking up some tile from our supplier.”
Excitement surged through him. “My tiles?” He couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. Opening a studio had been his dream for years, and modernizing the locker rooms was a huge step toward making that dream come true.
Tate tore a chunk off his bagel and popped it in his mouth. “Yep,” he answered around the bite.
“Yay!” Liam threw his hands in the air as he cheered, drawing curious stares from other patrons, but within a second, they lost interest. “Gah, I’m so freaking excited.” He did a little shimmy in his seat. What could he say? When he was happy, he danced.
Tate stiffened and glanced around. When he realized no one cared about two men sitting at a table together, even with Liam’s shout, he relaxed again.
Baby steps.
“So, Tate, what’s your story?”
The man across the table raised an eyebrow. “My story.”
“Yeah.” He took a bite of his muffin and groaned. “Oh, my God, this is so good. Wanna bite?” he asked, pointing to his plate.
Tate shook his head. “I’m good.”
“More for me.” After shrugging, Liam ripped off another piece of the incredible muffin and stuffed it in his mouth. The buttery, cakey dough combined with the sweet and tart bite of blueberry made his taste buds sing. “Mmm, seriously, this is so good.” After one more taste, he set the muffin down. “Okay, sorry, I’m done making love to the muffin. Your story. You know, where you’re from, what you like to do for fun, what’s your family like.”
Why aren’t you out?
Tate glanced toward the counter where the barista was laughing loudly, having found a new customer to flirt with. This one seemed ready and willing to banter right back.
Once the laughter stopped, Tate glanced down at his bagel and then up at Liam. He stared him straight in the eye when he said, “I’m from here. I’ve lived in the same shitty trailer park my entire life. Never traveled out of Oklahoma. My family sucks. Mom’s a drug addict who doesn’t give a shit about anything but her next fix, and my old man split when I was two. He comes around from time to time fucking up our lives and putting my mom through the wringer. I’ve got one brother, Randy, who you met the other day. He’s a bigot and an idiot like everyone else I know.”
A swallow of muffin dried up halfway down his throat, scratching the entire way to his stomach. Pain and longing, which Tate would probably never admit to, bled through his story loud and clear, but he’d still left so much unsaid. Those words seemed to brush over years of fear and hiding so many young men like Tate suffered. Liam wanted to weep for this man who lived his life in hiding. Who didn’t feel safe showing the world his true self. The way he ran from the club the other night practically before he finished coming made sense now.
Liam grabbed his coffee to keep from rubbing a hand over his aching heart. Instead of taking a sip, he traced his finger over the lines of condensation running down the chilly cup. Based on the way both Tate and Randy reacted to him in the studio, he had a feeling Tate didn’t have a lot of queer role models in his life, if any.
A thought struck Liam. One he had to have answered right then. “Am I the first gay man you’ve ever known?” Even though the café wasn’t crowded, and no one paid them any attention, he kept his voice down in deference to Tate’s skittishness. It felt as though if Liam said the wrong thing, the other man would flee at any time.
Snorting, Tate shook his head. “You know where we met,” he whispered back. “That wasn’t my first time there, Luxe. Lots of gay guys there.”
A sly smile curved Liam’s lips. “Oh yes, I remember that night very well,” he crooned, unable to keep the desire out of his voice. “In fact, I’ve relived it quite a few times, if you catch my meaning.” Relived it with his hand wrapped around his cock and Tate’s name on his lips.
Tate didn’t glance around this time to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Instead, his eyes darkened, and he shifted as though he needed to relieve an uncomfortable stiffening in those jeans.
“Let me ask it this way. Am I the first gay man you’ve sat at a table with and shared coffee?”
Tate didn’t need to answer. The flattening of this expression and how he averted his gaze told Liam all he needed to know. This man needed a tribe. He needed others who understood him and supported the real Tate.
Lucky for him, Liam also needed friends. “Well, Tate, I am proud to be your first queer friend.”
“We friends?”
“We are,” he said with a nod as he ripped another chunk off his muffin and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm, as your new friend, I insist you try this. It’s heavenly.” He pulled a piece off for Tate and held it up. In his mind, Tate opened his mouth and allowed Liam to place it on his tongue. He even closed his lips too fast, capturing Liam’s finger and teasing it with his tongue.
God, that would be hot.
In the real world, Tate reached out and plucked the bite from his fingers before tossing it in his mouth. “You’re right,” he said after he chewed and swallowed. “That’s a damn good muffin.”
Liam beamed. “Told you.”
The conversation flowed after that. They chatted without missing a beat. Tate filled him in on the main things he needed to know about Swan—places to check out, restaurants to hit, and ones to avoid. Unfortunately, there seemed to be more of the latter, but he hadn’t expected to be moving to a culinary mecca. Liam avoided further questions about Tate’s family, which served him well. They didn’t hit an awkward moment.
Tate relaxed with each passing minute. His shoulders loosened, he talked more, and he didn’t spare a glance for anyone else in the room. He also smiled, which transformed his looks from handsome to breathtaking.
Liam couldn’t stop smiling either. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hang out with someone his own age. For a social creature like himself, moving to a town where he didn’t know a single person had been a challenge.
And now he had a friend.
A very hot friend who knew his way around a cock.
“You know,” Liam said when they finally hit a lull in the conversation. “I’m pretty sure you forgot a spot when taking measurements at my studio the other day.”
Tate had just polished off his bagel. He brushed his hands together with a frown. “Really?”
“Yep,” he replied, popping the p at the end of the word.
“Huh, I don’t think so, Luxe. I was pretty thorough.”
Yes, thorough is exactly what I’m looking for.
“No, there’s one spot I’m pretty sure I forgot to show you.” He shrugged and let his desire show on his face. “Maybe you should come to the studio with me so I can show you. Up close and personal.”
Tate froze. His nostrils flared. For some reason, Liam found that extremely sexy. It made Tate seem like an animal scenting Liam’s arousal.
He shivered under Tate’s dark, heated gaze. “I have to be at a job in an hour and forty-five minutes.”
God, the man had a stellar sex voice. Deep, smokey, raspy. The perfect octave to whisper filthy promises in Liam’s ear.
He tilted his head. “It’ll be tight, but I have no doubt we can finish before you have to be at work.” It wasn’t a flex, but he wouldn’t take long to come once Tate got his hands on him. Not with how many times he’d relived the hand job in the club.
Realization sparked in Tate’s eyes. His expression went from pleasant to hungry in the blink of an eye. Liam nearly fanned himself. The man could set the place on fire with one look.
“I’m sure it will be tight.” Tate winked. “I’m counting on it, actually.”
Liam’s jaw dropped, and he blinked at the alien sitting across from him. Then shot his most playful look Tate’s way. “Why, Tate I-Don’t-Know-Your-Last-Name, did you just flirt with little old me?”
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s Sutton, and you know damn well I’m flirting with you.”
“Well, then, in that case…” Liam stood. Excitement zinged through him. Too bad they had an hour's drive before he could get some relief. Jetting into the coffee shop’s bathroom for a quickie probably wouldn’t work out as well as it had in the club. “I’ll meet you back at my studio.” He gathered his trash and walked to Tate’s side of the table. “Don’t forget your measuring tape. There’s something I measured by seeing how far down my throat it could reach, but I wanted a more precise measurement,” he whispered in Tate’s ear. “I’m guessing it was around eleven inches.”
Tate’s bark of laughter as he stood and strode to the exit had Liam chuckling under his breath.
It’d be a miracle if he wasn’t pulled over for speeding on the way back.