Lane Read online

  He must’ve seen my confusion, because he smiled. As serious as he usually looked, I loved the amusement that was radiating from him. “The one in the back isn’t as quiet as you think. Something about the placement of the table makes the words echo.”

  Fuck.

  “Do I owe you an apology?” He wasn’t angry, that was evident. But between my conversation with Eli and the fact that I’d clearly been watching him, there was probably an apology needed in there somewhere.

  Tattoo guy was still grinning, but shook his head. “No, I don’t think I mind being stalked.”

  I could feel the heat starting to creep up my face. Yeah, I owed the guy an apology. Especially since I still didn’t even know his first name. His smile just widened as he pointed to the table. “Go grab it before somebody else does. I’ll be right over there.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from him. I still had so many questions. But since it honestly looked like he was going to sit down and have coffee with me, I forced myself to relax and walk over to the table. I wasn’t the most aggressive guy when it came to dating. I liked when things were laid out first so I could see it in my mind before I went into the situation.

  With almost any other guy, I would have assumed that this was a date. A quick meet up for coffee to see if we had chemistry and if I really was a stalker. But with him, I wasn’t so sure.

  He gave off mixed signals, but it was clear he was curious about me. But aside from him paying, and waiting by the door for me, nothing about it felt like a traditional date. That wasn’t a bad thing, but it made me nervous.

  I hadn’t been as sure as Eli that the guy was even gay. He really had that relaxed straight guy look. I’d never worried that he would freak out at the idea that I found him attractive, but nothing about him said he was anything but heterosexual.

  He spoke to the barista too quietly for me to hear, so as he started walking back over to the table, I still didn’t know his name. I was just going to have to ask. Luckily, he seemed to understand my dilemma, or maybe he just had good manners. As he sat down, he stuck out his hand. “Lane? Right? I’m Wilder.”

  I groaned. “You really could hear everything the other day.”

  He chuckled. “Oh yes, it was the most interesting lunch break I’ve had in ages…maybe ever.”

  I tried to think back to everything we’d said, but there was no way to remember it all. “I’m sitting here a little mortified, trying to figure out what other embarrassing things I might’ve said.”

  “You mean besides your stalking tendencies?”

  My laugh came out slightly strangled, and I looked down at the table, trying to find something else to focus on. “Yes.”

  “I figured out you worked at the…clothing company down the street. You also had interesting lines about where good stalking crossed into bad stalking. Tattoos interest you, but you’re not ready to make a commitment. Your mother doesn’t know much about your personal life. And I think that’s it for the most part.” I could hear the laughter in his voice, although he was doing his best to keep it from escaping.

  I just wanted to let my head fall to the table so I could hide. Forcing myself not to look like more of an idiot, I ignored the blush that was still heating up my face and tried to sound like a functional adult. “So you know a lot about me, but I barely even know your name.”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re not a very good stalker if you don’t know anything else about me yet. Fess up, what do you know?”

  Smiling, a little less embarrassed somehow, I nodded. “Okay, so maybe I know a little.”

  “Like what?”

  I thought back to the things that had first caught my attention. “You like to read. You’re good with kids once they’re out of that screamy, drooly stage. You work non-traditional hours and take your lunch break about three o’clock in the afternoon at least three days a week. You seem to like reading books in a series and sometimes you doodle on napkins without realizing what you’re doing.”

  “You’re a better stalker than I thought. I’m not sure if I should be worried about you. That face is sweet and innocent, but you might be as crazy as your friend.”

  “Just observant. Not nuts.”

  He leaned forward against the table, his elbows coming to rest on the top. “Observant how?”

  I shrugged, not sure if the story would make me sound more normal or kind of pathetic. “I didn’t start off watching you insanely. The first time I noticed you was because there was a lady in here with like a dozen kids who were all going in different directions and she needed caffeine badly. You kept some of the older ones occupied for just a minute by drawing things on the napkins and made faces at the other ones to keep them entertained.”

  He nodded absently, smiling. “Oh, I remember that. It was ages ago.”

  I reached out and started playing with a little sign on the table that was advertising new drinks. “It caught my attention. It was at odds with how I thought someone with that many tattoos and…well, it just wasn’t what I imagined.”

  Was there a right way to say that someone who looked like he might run a biker gang shouldn’t look that cute playing with kids?

  Probably not.

  “Then I noticed you reading the next time I saw you and that just had me looking for you more whenever I would come. One thing led to another…” I shrugged, not sure what to say next that wouldn’t sound weird.

  He shook his head like he was disappointed or shocked, but the laughter in his eyes made it clear he didn’t mind. “One thing led to another and then you found you were a stalker.”

  “It really is your fault.”

  “For being so cute with kids or for being literate?”

  “Both.” Then deciding to just go with it, I glanced down at his arms where tattoos were peeking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. “And don’t forget the tattoos.”

  Or the muscles, but I kept that to myself for the time being. No reason to keep the conversation going in that direction until I knew where I stood with him. A coffee date didn’t mean gay…did it?

  It could’ve meant he was curious.

  It could’ve meant he was lonely and wanted attention.

  It could’ve meant that at any moment he was going to fix me up with his gay BFF.

  That one hadn’t happened to me, but it had happened to one of the other models a couple of weeks ago. So I was prepared for anything.

  Wilder’s smile widened, and for just a moment, I thought I saw desire in his eyes before the barista called out his name, breaking the spell. The heat faded as Wilder stood up, but the way he watched me still had my insides whirling.

  As he walked over to the counter, I watched his long stride and wide shoulders and wondered what was going on. Fantasy men didn’t just show up asking you for coffee. It didn’t matter how polite they were to strangers or how cute they looked reading Harry Potter. It just didn’t happen.

  But it was happening. At least on some level.

  Part of me wanted to poke him and make sure he was real. And not just to feel up his muscles. No matter what Eli would probably say. Was there a reasonable way to ask what was going on without looking pathetic? Would it be normal to ask him where he stood on his orientation?

  I didn’t want to seem ridiculous. I also didn’t want to look like I had no self-esteem or was trying to play up that whole I don’t know I’m cute routine. I just honestly wasn’t sure what was going on. I knew I was attractive.

  As far as the other models went, I was probably in the middle cuteness-wise. There were some that were hotter than me and others who had a more boy-next-door bit going for them, but Preston and Roman had both said that no one did sweet and innocent like I did.

  But approaching the conversation from that angle would look even more ridiculous. I just wished I had some clue about who he might be interested in. Men, women, both, neither…He’d nodded at a few people but mostly just read his book.

  That just wasn�
�t enough information.

  By the time Wilder came back over to the table, I still hadn’t figured out what to do. I had to remind myself that no matter what happened, having someone new to hang out with and do things with would be a bonus. As much as he read, Wilder had to be a good conversationalist. I could always use more friends.

  Not that a part of me wouldn’t always be curious, though.

  “Here you go.” Wilder slid my hot chocolate across the table, smiling at me.

  “Thank you.”

  “So I might have happened to overhear you talking about plans for a date this weekend. Did you get that worked out?” Wilder grinned, clearly adapting to the idea that we were both nosy.

  I shook my head and peeled the lid off my drink. “No, thank goodness, it fell through. Evidently, his mother found out about the date and called things off.”

  Wilder look stumped. “Was he that young?”

  “No, he was in his mid-thirties. But he still lives with her, and she’s evidently a bit clingy. I’m not judgmental, but it felt a little bit weird. And thankfully, even my mother agreed.” I was hoping it would give me a break from her absurd matchmaking, but I probably wasn’t that lucky. Once she got an idea stuck in her head, it was like a song that wouldn’t go away.

  Wilder chuckled. “It sounds like you might have gotten lucky. I can’t imagine a relationship working with somebody like that breathing down your neck.”

  I nodded. I’d been utterly relieved when my mother had called. “Yeah, I have a feeling I dodged a bullet there.”

  “At least it’s good that your mother is trying.”

  “A little bit too hard, but yeah, the whole gay thing never upset her.” I knew I was lucky, but I also knew that she could drive a nun to drink.

  That seemed to give Wilder an opening because he nodded and took a sip of his drink before setting it down and leaning back in his chair. “So did you always know you were gay? Or is that a stupid question?”

  I didn’t care if it was a stupid question or not, as long as it gave me information about him. Shaking my head, I blew on my hot chocolate before answering. “It’s not a stupid question. It was never a surprise or a big revelation to me. I basically just always knew.”

  Taking a sip, I glanced up at him, curious if he would lead into his own story. Wilder took a drink of his coffee and nodded. “Do you think it’s always that easy?”

  Now that was an interesting question. “Is knowing you’re gay always easy?”

  He nodded slowly. “Or bi, yes.”

  I tried to think about how to answer his question. I knew it wasn’t just hypothetical. Something in his face said he was taking it very seriously. “Probably not. I know a lot of guys who questioned how to identify themselves for a long time. A couple of the guys at work are bi; they seemed to find it the hardest, but maybe it’s just how it sounded to me. Being gay or straight is clearer cut than being bi or something less easy to define. I know when I was growing up you were either gay or straight, there wasn’t anything in between. Even my mother, who was trying to do her best, jumped from girls to guys without asking if I might like both.”

  I gestured to his tattoos. “Being artistic doesn’t help people to figure things out any easier. I saw the drawings you did. They were very good. Roman, one of the photographers I work with, he said something one time about how beautiful the human body is. He wasn’t talking about sex, but it would probably make things harder to sort out when you’re young.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Wilder took another sip of his coffee and nodded slowly, turning things over in his head.

  If I hadn’t watched him read so often, I might have thought he wasn’t paying attention, but I’d seen that look before. He would pause sometimes and just stare out the window or even at the wall, not seeing what was there but lost in his thoughts.

  Finally, his gaze came back into focus. “Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night? I’d like a chance to get to know you better.”

  “Like a date?” Not my most intelligent question, but it made Wilder smile and cut some of the tension I hadn’t realized was building.

  “Yes, like a date.”

  I was being asked out by the sexiest, most interesting guy I’d met in a long time. I still couldn’t believe it. “Yes, sounds like fun.”

  I was so going to buy a lottery ticket on the way home from work.

  Chapter 5

  Wilder

  “You’ve been home for hours and didn’t call.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone. My mind had been elsewhere, though, and I’d just answered it out of habit. Gray hadn’t even let me say hello before he’d charged right in. Sighing, I moved away from the table and stood up. “I thought we were supposed to ask about the weather and make small talk. Isn’t that what I was lectured about?”

  He just ignored me. “Did you talk to him? What happened?”

  Nosy shit. “I talked to him, yes.”

  From the frustrated noise he made, Gray didn’t seem to think I was as funny as I did. “Did you say excuse me when you bumped into him, or did you actually have a conversation with him? Don’t make me call in the cavalry. I’m sure somebody we went to school with lives near there.”

  That was a terrible threat, and I didn’t want to see if he would actually follow through with it. I liked my privacy too much. “No need to haul out the big guns. I invited him to sit down and have coffee with me when he walked into the coffee shop. I surprised him, and he was a little bit embarrassed that I knew, but it was nice. He’s interesting and a good conversationalist.”

  I also liked the fact that he noticed things. Not just the typical points like how I dressed and what I looked like, but things like the reading and the interaction with those kids. He’d paid attention, and not just on a superficial level. It made me want to learn more about him.

  Gray laughed. “I think surprised might be an understatement.”

  Probably.

  Horrified would be a better word, but I simply made a noncommittal noise and ignored it since it wasn’t a question. “We actually have a date this weekend. I’m going to take him out to dinner.”

  “So I guess you solved the question of whether or not you’re bi?”

  “At this point, let’s just say that I’m keeping my options open, and I’m getting to know someone who’s interesting.”

  Eventually, I would have to figure out who I was…or maybe that wasn’t even the right way to think about it. I knew who I was. I just needed to figure out a new piece of myself. People seemed to think that who they were was like a puzzle. There was a defined edge and everything about them should fit in the picture.

  Maybe it was a puzzle, but it wasn’t as complete as everyone expected.

  It was a never-ending puzzle where you discovered sections that may not have been there the day before because it was always growing…we were always growing.

  Gray either understood or wasn’t going to press because he switched topics again. “What kind of things have you discovered about the lingerie model already?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, but I could tell he wasn’t being flippant.

  “He’s articulate and didn’t just notice the tattoos. Anytime I asked him a question, he took it seriously and thought about how to answer it. I think he’s going to be someone I enjoy getting to know.” That didn’t exactly sound romantic, or even sexual, but the fact that I’d spent the last hour sketching him said there was more on my mind than just the possibility of a new friendship.

  “But does he like the tattoos? He’s not thrown by the difference between the exterior and the interior—but does he like the architecture?”

  “I’m not a building.”

  Gray chuckled. “No, but you’re built like a house so the analogy works. And don’t change the subject.”

  “I think the fact that he noticed me and found me attractive is evident.” Gray didn’t need to know that I could almost feel Lane’s hands
tracing over my tattoos. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that and I wasn’t sure there was a way to explain it to Gray.

  There was too much going on in my head.

  Unfortunately, Gray wasn’t going to leave it at that. “What do you think about the idea of him finding you attractive?”

  “People notice me all the time. If I wanted to blend into the background, I wouldn’t have visible tattoos. Besides, I’m not completely in the dark that gay men have found me attractive in the past.” But there had always been a layer of separation between me and anyone else who’d just noticed the tattoos. Man or woman, it didn’t matter. It was almost like they were admiring artwork. Except, in this case, there was a living, breathing canvas behind it.

  But Lane had noticed the canvas as well.

  “There’s a difference between some random guy eyeing your biceps and actually dating a man.” I could almost hear Gray rolling his eyes.

  “I’m not a moron. I realize that.”

  “But did you realize that if he was shy enough that you needed to make the first move, you were also going to need to make the first moves on other things?” He said it carefully and I couldn’t decide if he thought he was breaking it to me gently or if he thought I was an idiot. Either way, I wasn’t sure I appreciated it.

  Because yes, that thought had occurred to me while we were having coffee.

  “It just means he’s not going to be the type to rush me.” Most of the mechanics weren’t going to be that unfamiliar. I’d had sex with women and had technically fooled around with guys. I also had a penis, which should be helpful.

  Just because I’d never kissed a man didn’t mean it would be like kissing an alien.

  “He’s not from another planet.”

  Gray chuckled. “Don’t you remember, men are from Mars and women are from Venus, so technically you’re kissing a member of your own species, not an alien.”

  “See. That’s what I said.”

  His voice grew softer, and the humor faded away. “But a kiss at the end of the first date is very different from letting some guy jerk you off when you’re drunk.”