“Consider it initiation.” Carter grinned at him, and it felt good, like they were willing to let him in. “What do you want to drink? I’ll grab it from the front.”
“Grape soda, please.”
Geoff blinked at him. “Oh my God, he is six.”
Troy chuckled softly, cooking away. It was a bit like watching a machine—bread and bacon and sausage and eggs all working at the same time.
“Not six.” He watched Troy move, so graceful and efficient, with total confidence. How much fun would it be to get this guy flustered? What would it take? How would Troy react to being thrown off-balance or forced out of his comfort zone?
Just look at the guy. How hot would that be? He was salivating over the promise of food, and the man doing the cooking.
“No, you’re closer to twelve.” Geoff cackled, but there wasn’t meanness in it at all. “Seriously, thanks for helping with Carter’s bike. That meant a lot to him.”
Twelve. Ha. He wondered if Geoff was onto him. “Oh, God. It was the least I could do after sending Carter flying. My heart was pounding for real. I thought I’d really hurt him.”
“I’m made of steel.” Carter handed him his soda without a snarky comment.
Geoff. “Mm. Steel. For sure.”
“Now who’s twelve?” Saul snorted.
“Oh, honey. Carter’s not for boys.”
Troy’s laugh filled the kitchen. “No?”
Geoff glared over. “Shut up, butthead.”
“I mean, I don’t…”
“Troy!”
“Hey. No worries, Geoff. Carter told me where you met.” He grinned.
Oh, Geoff had the prettiest blush. How sweet.
“And Saul tells me he’s had trouble finding a scene. I’m thinking he should come to one of our parties.” Carter didn’t even look up, just set a stack of plates out for Troy.
Score. Please, oh please.
“Oh?” Geoff was watching him differently now.
“Yes. In fact, we’re having a get-together next Sunday night at our place, if you’re interested.”
“I would love to. Really. I’d love that. Thank you.”
“We’re not serving grape soda, Junior.” Geoff winked at him.
“No worries. I’ll bring a six pack to share.” He grinned right back.
“Perfect. I’ll text you the details. It’s a relaxing evening.” Carter smiled, looking like nothing more than a benevolent uncle. “Assuming no one’s in the doghouse.”
“Be nice, now.” Both men chuckled together knowingly, then Geoff continued. “That’s not Troy’s kink either.”
A plate clanged in front of him. “French toast with fruit.”
Saul blinked at the food. The toast made the shape of a dog, with blueberries for eyes, a pineapple piece for a nose, and a strawberry tongue.
“Eggs benedict for you, boss, and an egg white omelet with spinach, mushroom, and tomato for Geoff.”
“Oh my God, I got a dog! How cool!” Saul was totally sincere. The kid’s menu shape was probably meant to be a joke but he loved it. “Really. Too cool, Troy. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Y’all enjoy.” Troy winked at him before heading back to the line.
“Wow. Dog French toast. He must like you.” Carter ducked when Geoff took a swing.
I hope so. He seemed to be a bit of a golden boy with these guys right now. They liked him, why not Troy too? He had to assume the hostess had given Troy his card, and Troy was still winking at him. He couldn’t be that far off.
“Does Troy have… anyone?” He chose those words carefully, leaving Carter and Geoff to interpret what he was asking as they pleased. A lover, a Dom, family… whatever they wanted to tell him. Whatever they thought he should know.
“He has us.” Carter sounded so sure.
“Not in a we’re-a-threesome sort of way, though. Just in a we’re-all-family-and-he’s-a-doll-baby sort of way,” Geoff added.
Okay. He could shoot straight then, right? “So… not in an I’d-be-totally-idiotic-to-ask-him-out kind of way?”
The guys shared a look, but it was Geoff who answered him. “I think it might be fun. He hasn’t done a lot of dating.”
Both of those statements were telling. They had no idea how Troy would respond to being asked out, which meant Troy hadn’t said yes to too many people in the twenty-whatever years since his lover died.
He wasn’t sure if he should take that as a warning or a challenge, but in the end, Saul decided not to even pay attention. He was curious about Troy, and he wanted to know more. Troy had to know he was attracted, maybe even felt it some too? He thought the man would say yes. Eventually. “Who doesn’t want a little fun, right?”
Geoff smiled at him, genuinely. “Best of luck, Junior.”
“Thanks.” He dug into his doggie French toast. God, he was starving.
4
Mr. French Toast came in every day now, and every day Troy made French toast in different shapes—robots, cats, dogs.
Today he made a flower.
Carter looked at him when Angela picked up the order.
“What?”
“Seriously? A flower?”
“Shut up, boss.”
Stupid, he knew, but… Shit, maybe he was flirting a little. What was the harm? It was French toast.
He hid his gaze under the brim of his ball cap and watched through the pass-through window as Angela delivered the flower to Saul, and a bright smile spread across the guy’s face. It wasn’t the goofy, cute smile from yesterday when he’d sent out the robot though, this one was warmer and seemed to settle over Saul like a blanket. Saul shared the moment with Angela, who laughed and poured out more coffee, but then suddenly, sharp, blue eyes flicked up from the plate and met his.
Oh, Saul made his mouth dry, which was not going to help with the teasing he was fixin’ to get from Carter.
“Cradle robber.”
“Shut up.” He held Saul’s gaze a second longer before he put a French dip together on a plate. “Don’t make me hurt you, man.”
“Promises promises.”
They had the same kind of conversation eighty times a day, and it had a comfort to it, an ease.
“You do realize he’s going to keep coming in here every morning until you talk to him, right? Are you making a point of how stubborn you are, or just waiting for him to hit three hundred pounds?”
“I don’t know what to say. Hi. I’m old enough to be your father? That seems off-putting.” Did he seriously just use the term off-putting? “Jesus, I’ve spent too much time with Geoff.”
Carter laughed. “Sure. Go tell him you think you’re too old for him. I dare you.”
“Shut up.” There was no way he could do that. No way. He wasn’t rude by nature or raising. Still, he had permission to get off the line, so he gave Juana a nod and headed over to see if Mr. French Toast approved of his breakfast.
Saul saw him coming and stood, unfolding long legs and smiling at him. “Hi.”
“Hey there. How was your breakfast?” How are you so hot? Have I become a dirty old man?