Hope on the Rocks by Annabeth Albert

Seven

Adam

By Wednesday night, I still hadn’t figured out if this dinner thing was a date. Ramona would have laughed herself silly at the internal debates I was carrying on before heading to Quinn’s. Simply deciding to text him had required far more thought than I usually put into these things. Then I’d worried over whether to shower and change after work and show up “date-nice,” or whether fresh-from-work casual would be better.

“Adam. Wear the dress flannel,” I could hear Ramona tease because it wasn’t like my wardrobe held a lot of variety or like I regularly gave a fuck about my look.

In the end, I showered and dressed in a marginally newer shirt and jeans. And I had a bribe in the form of chocolate that would earn me points no matter the mood of the dinner. I arrived at his complex on time too. He seemed like the sort to appreciate punctuality.

“I brought you my mom’s famous brownies,” I said when Quinn opened the door to his condo. I offered him the packed-full plate. Luckily, Mom had accepted my request for extra brownies today, no questions asked.

“You brought dessert?” He looked all befuddled as he accepted the plate. Transferring it over was a nice cover for the way my body thrummed simply from being near him. He was rocking the hot-nerd thing again, with a T-shirt advertising Oregon’s lone medical school, and he smelled good. Expensive but not cloying. Forget the brownies. I wanted to eat him up.

“You like chocolate,” I reminded him, careful to not go too wolfish on him before I was even in the door. “And you swore off liquor, so I couldn’t bring you one of my custom liqueurs. It was brownies or venison.”

“Venison?” His expression shifted to alarm. Cute, the way his eyes popped open wide behind his glasses. And damn if I hadn’t had more than one idle thought about plucking those glasses off.

“I hunt.” I licked my lips, worried that he might be able to guess the direction of my thoughts and trying to stick to safe topics until I got a better read on what he was expecting here. “Mom taught me to never come empty-handed to a meal invite, so usually I’d bring a frozen roast or something for you, but I’ve never seen you eat anything other than chicken breast.”

“I guess my dietary choices are rather predictable.” He laughed, giving one of those blushes of his I liked so much. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had venison.”

He ushered me into the condo, our bodies brushing in the entryway in an awkward dance of figuring out who was going first. I almost wished I had brought the meat. I liked the idea of giving him new experiences, introducing him to tastes he maybe hadn’t considered before. There I was, back to more sexy thoughts. I wasn’t entirely sure what his pull over me was. He was cute, sure, and he summoned all my protective instincts, but there was some sort of hard-to-describe, deep-seated quality to him that made me more nervous than I liked as I followed him into the main living area.

“I…uh…this is my place.” Quinn was still blushing. Maybe he was nervous for similar reasons. That was a nice thought.

“Nice view.” In reality, the condo was as bland as the building’s exterior, which had all the personality of a frozen dinner. Stark white walls interrupted by a massive bank of windows with an impressive ocean view. Tastefully bland leather furniture like he’d pointed at a staged furniture ad. Not that I could speak, seeing as how I’d never had the opportunity to truly decorate somewhere. Unlike me, Quinn probably didn’t covet antlers and vintage beer ads, but he deserved something a bit more homey. He wasn’t going to get over the jerkwad ex in a place that looked more like an extended-stay hotel.

“You ever think about painting?” I asked, mind galloping ahead to ways I could help him in the forget-the-ex mission.

Pausing in the living room, Quinn turned back to me. “Actually, yes. Not in here because I like the light and the high ceilings would be a pain, but I read that shades of blue can help sleep as a bedroom color. Not sure I’d be good at painting though.”

Bingo. There was the opening I’d hoped for. “I could help.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

Damn it. Back to formal Dr. Strauss. This was likely not a date or hookup. He was either nervous or not interested, and I hated not being able to tell. “Not in the market for friends?”

“I…uh…yeah, I maybe could use one.” His small smile held exactly enough hope to have me smiling back as he added, “Thanks.”

“What smells good?” I asked, trying to push aside any awkwardness and use the same charm that put customers at ease to get Quinn to dial back the nerves. I was a friendly guy and more than willing to be Quinn’s friend, but he’d need to drop words like impose from his vocabulary. The place really did smell good, like my mom’s at a holiday.

“I tried to remember what’s not on the menu at the Rainbow Tavern. I went with my mom’s mac-n-cheese because that seemed like the sort of pasta-based dish you might like.” Sure enough, getting him talking food was the right call as he settled down, adding a shy smile that went straight for my inner Daddy.

“Look at you. Dairy products. Living dangerously.” I smiled back at him, liking the zing of warmth that seemed to arc between us.

“There is a big salad too.”

“Of course, there is.” I laughed. I could fake enjoying vegetables to be polite when needed. “I like mac-n-cheese. My mom does a killer one when she’s not busy prepping breakfast for the B&B.”

“She sure keeps busy.” Quinn headed for the kitchen, which was typically beachy with white cabinets, stainless appliances, and a starfish above the fridge that I’d bet had been there when he moved in.

“All the rental repairs keep me busy too. I try to help out where I can.” Rolling my neck, I looked around the kitchen, trying to spot a way to lend a hand. “Anything I can do to help with dinner?”

“It’s almost ready.” Quinn retrieved a salad bowl from the fridge. “You’re close with your mom though. Even if the busyness is hard, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, it is.” I didn’t miss the wistfulness in his tone. “You’re not tight with your folks?”

“We’re not estranged or anything. But they’re older, set in their ways, and our relationship wasn’t that warm to start with. My coming out in college added to the frostiness. They divorced shortly after that, and my visits home tend to be tense as I have to split time between them.” He put the salad on the small table in the dining nook and then headed back toward the oven. “Your mom always seems like such a good supporter of the tavern.”

“She is.” I took a seat on one of the stools near the breakfast bar, trying to get out of Quinn’s way. “I’m damn lucky in the mom department. She’s my biggest cheerleader. That’s why I don’t mind helping her out. She’s always been there for me.”

“That’s great.” Using big blue potholders, Quinn removed a steaming casserole dish from the oven. “I don’t promise this is as good as your mom’s. I had one of her breakfasts when I first arrived in town and was condo hunting. Your mom’s cooking is as good as what I’ve had at one of the hot Portland brunch spots.”

“I’ll pass the compliment on. And if the dinner tastes as good as it smells, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks.” Another cutely timid smile and blush. The way he responded to even simple praise made the room seem that much warmer, electric with potential. If he hadn’t been holding a piping-hot dish, I might have been tempted to pull him against me. He’d fit damn perfectly on my lap, but I resisted.

“This should probably cool for a moment. Do you want something to drink? I’ve got wine, but I’m still sticking with water for the foreseeable future.”

“Water’s fine. And I’m sure your liver will thank you, but don’t beat yourself up so hard. So you got drunk once. Your stellar rep will survive.”

“You’re sweet.” He set two glasses of water on the table and motioned for me to take one of the seats.

“Oh, I’m not always sweet. I can be salty too,” I teased, waiting to see if I could earn another blush from him.

“Salty can be good too.” Yup, there was that pink flush, rising all the way up to his forehead this time. “Sorry that the food is still so hot.”

Taking a seat, he continued to hold himself as stiffly as he had since I’d arrived, but I was starting to get a thing for his uncertainty. He seemed more awkward than disinterested, which inspired me to want to address the tension head-on rather than make stilted conversation all evening.

“I don’t mind waiting on the dinner.” Stretching, I pitched my voice low and soothing. “You in a hurry for us to be done?”

“No, of course not. I…like having company. Having you here. It’s nice.” He sounded sincere enough, and the way his tongue darted out gave me more hope that he only needed a little nudge to loosen up further.

“Good.” I leaned back in my chair, enjoying how his gaze roved over my torso. Time for that nudge. “Did you ask me here because you wanted someone to feed or because you were hoping I’d offer again for hooking up?”

He might kick me out before he even served the casserole. But taking the chance to bring up the topic beat making stilted conversation all evening.