“No, you don’t. Go on. Thanks for your help.” He grabbed his summer straw off the hat stand.
“We’re going.” Geoff hugged him quickly and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Carter stepped close and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just a date. It’s not a contract. Relax and have some fun.”
“I know. I got this.” One way or the other, it was one hell of an ego boost, right? Right.
Troy let them out, waving before he closed the door. He put his hat on the pass-through, glancing at the front room. It looked great—the Pendleton blanket on the sofa bright and contrasting with the heavy dark leather of his sectional. He’d painted the room a deep navy, and it suited, making the furniture sink into the room and the framed photographs pop.
Not five minutes later he heard a horn beep and he saw Saul climbing out of an ancient, beat-to-shit Subaru. He raised an eyebrow. The car didn’t seem to suit Saul at all, and in fact, he could tell by the way the guy frowned at it that it was someone else’s wheels.
Saul headed up his walk, running fingers through wavy blond hair and tugging on a black button down to straighten it.
Pretty baby. Lord, he was a giant idiot for stressing. He just needed to go out, enjoy himself, and let it be.
The doorbell rang, and he opened it to find Saul smiling at him, blue eyes shining, completely at ease in that tanned skin. “Whoa! Do I have the wrong house? I’m here to pick up a guy in a greasy baseball hat and an apron, I wasn’t expecting someone so handsome to answer the door.”
“This is my secret identity. You have to promise not to tell anyone. Would you like to come in?” Oh, go him! That was a quick comeback with a smile, and a good one at that.
“Not a word, I swear.” Saul laughed, stepping inside and looking around. “Thanks. This is great.”
“Thank you. It’s mine, so I think I’ll keep it.” Okay, did he ask Saul if he wanted a drink or a seat? How did this work?
“I made reservations since it’s Friday and all. If our table’s not ready we could hang out at the… hey, the guys said you were a rodeo man. This is a great picture. Who is that?”
“Man named James Bridey. He was my roping partner while I was on the circuit.” The man had beautiful hands and he’d been lucky to get some amazing shots.
“Did you take this?” Saul moved slowly through his living room examining his photographs. “Are these yours?”
“Yeah.” He loved playing with his camera, seeing what he could see. It was easier now, with digital and sim cards, but sometimes he still shot film and developed it in his basement.
“You’ve got a good eye, Troy. I like them. How long have you been at it? Did you teach yourself?” So many questions.
“A long time. Thirty years, give or take.” Longer than you’ve been alive. Jesus, forgive me. “My old man was into it. He was a sports photographer.”
“Thirty years? Wow. That’s forever. Very cool.” Saul glanced at his watch. “We should head to dinner. I don’t want to be late and lose the reservation.”
“Sure. Sounds great.” He almost offered to take his truck, but this was Saul’s date, so he didn’t. He just grabbed his hat, his wallet, and his keys. “I’m ready.”
“Cool.” Saul headed for the door. “I borrowed a car because I don’t actually own one. It’s not a fancy date car but it runs.”
“Running is good. So, how did you decide to open a bike shop?” Saul seemed young for that, but what did he know.
“Oh, it’s not mine. I just run it. Me and Emma. It belongs to this guy Chuck, he used to run it, now he’s training with one of the Tour teams. And he’s a dad. Busy guy.”
Saul crossed in front of him and opened the passenger side door. “Climb on in.”
“Thank you.” He remembered training constantly, traveling. It had been a whole different life.
Saul closed his door and then slipped into the driver’s seat beside him. “Emma was there before I was. She worked for Chuck and then she was trying to manage it on her own but really, she likes to get her hands dirty, you know? So she hired me, and we split up the management stuff so we both get to get hands on too. It works. And it pays the rent easy and then some, so I’m good.”
The Subaru rattled along as Saul talked, and they headed for town when they left his neighborhood.
Troy liked the sound of Saul’s voice—it was rich, a little musical, and easy to listen to. Even better, with very few prompts, Saul kept talking about bikes, about Boulder, about random bits of nothing. It was charming as all get out.
Saul parked the car in the garage at 11th and Spruce and shut off the engine. “We’re going to walk up to Walnut, okay? It’s just a couple of blocks.”
“Sounds great. It’s a gorgeous night. I love our seven seconds of summer.” He remembered some endless summers in Texas, but here if you got warm, you just headed toward the mountains.
“Right? Enjoy it while we can.” They went out to the street, which was busy on a perfect Friday night. “So you had me babbling all the way here. I don’t mind, I can talk. I like to. It’s not all that often I don’t have something to say. But at dinner, I’m listening. Fair warning.” Saul smiled, walking alongside him, not close enough to be too familiar, but close enough to hint at more than just a friendly night out.
“I like listening.” He hadn’t used to. He’d been the guy who always had a story, a joke, something to say. Now he found that he loved listening to everything around him.
Saul turned the corner at Walnut and led him across the street. “You like Tapas, I hope? Mediterranean?”
“I have never met a food I didn’t like.” Small plates were so in right now, and there was something inherently sensual about sharing and tasting.
“Good. Me neither. This place is hopping on a Friday night. I made the reservation the day I asked you out, and it’s a good thing we were on the early side. They’re totally booked for later.”
A gentleman in a suit greeted them as they came through the door. “Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Delmara.”
Saul gave the guy a bright smile. “Hello. We have a reservation for six o’clock under Reynolds.”
“Certainly. I’m Oscar, I’m managing tonight if you need any help. Barb up at the desk will see if your table is ready. Have a good evening.”
“Thanks, Oscar.” Saul spoke with Barb and she got them to their table, a nice one by the windows that looked out over the patio, and Saul pulled out his chair for him.
His cheeks heated, but he sat, murmuring his thanks. Was that wonderful or odd or embarrassing or just dear as fuck?
“Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?” Barb was adorable and tiny, and she had a tiny voice to go with it.
“Do you drink, Troy?” Saul pulled out the wine list.
“I have been known to have a beer or a glass of wine, even a Jack and Coke on occasion.” He had a nice little collection of beers at his house and wine for Geoff. “How about you?”
“You know anyone that went to CU that doesn’t drink?” Saul laughed. “I think I want a beer.”
He nodded. That sounded good—not too much, but enough to ease the jitters. “I’ll take a Fat Tire and a glass of water, please ma’am.”