Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
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?”
They’d be bringing up his number one pickup line forever.
Hey.
Rory pointed to the ceiling. “This place is an echo chamber. Which is a good thing, in my opinion. Why coffee?”
Matthew shrugged. “It slipped out. But it works, right? 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. “He’s being a gentleman.”
“Amateurs,” Rory mumbled, rubbing his temples. “Nothing is wrong, except for the fact that coffee dates are made for deep conversations. At a bar, the music and crowds can drown out anything that isn’t light banter. But coffee? He’ll be walking through a veritable minefield of potential verbal blunders, and he can barely talk to the boy as it is.”
Knots started reforming in his stomach. “I want to get to know him. Isn’t that why I introduced myself?”
But now Robert was looking thoughtful. “Barbie has a point.”
“Barbie?”
“It’s your new nickname until you stop calling me Nora.”
Matthew’s hands clenched at his sides. It was like herding cats with these two. “What point is that, Robert?”
“In my experience, the first half hour of a date can make or break you. Make, as in you might eventually get laid. Break, as in he walks out and tosses his membership and my commission in the trash because you stuck your big Irish foot in your mouth.”
Matthew rubbed his palm over his face and strove for calm. “You can both tease me about my flubs to your heart’s content. Another day. Right now, though, it appears I may need a little more help.”
“Is the advice window open?” Rory asked hopefully.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Afraid not. Barbie and I are in this now. Have a seat and we’ll see what we can do.” Robert laughed. “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 glumly. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as someone brings me leftovers from the next Finn Again.”
“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,” Rory said, sliding an arm through Matthews and guiding him back to his seat. “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. 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 date is all about him. Ask him questions about himself and then 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.
He sat at the small, kitschy coffee shop across from a freshly showered Oliver. The t-shirt and jeans he’d thrown on did as much for him as the snug shorts had, thankfully hiding his legs from view so Matthew could concentrate on the conversation.
He watched, somewhat impressed as Oliver inhaled the three blueberry muffins and dozen chocolate chip cookies he’d ordered to go with his large caramel-flavored coffee. The man had an appetite. He hadn’t let Matthew pay for any of it, either, as if he wasn’t entirely willing to consider this a date.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Look at him. He’s clearly lightheaded from hunger.
“We should have gone for pizza instead. I didn’t realize you’d missed dinner.”
Oliver smiled sheepishly, brushing the crumbs from his chin and the bow-shaped lips that kept drawing Matthew’s gaze.
“I didn’t. I had a turkey sub in my locker and ate it halfway through my workout. I’m still this hungry because my metabolism is freakish. My grandmother swore I was on something for years.”
“So you’re saying no one else in your family can put away muffins like you do?”
Did that sound sexual?
Only to you, idiot. Stop staring at his mouth.
“You don’t want to hear about my family,” he said firmly. “It’s big, crazy and full of constant drama.”