“Gene isn’t here.” Rhys sounded affronted, and Beckett couldn’t help but smile at the tone. “You told me a hundred dollars and he costs more than that.”
“You really took the budget seriously.”
“Do you want a ride, Beckett?”
“Are you sure?” He sighed and checked his pockets for his wallet and keys.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll be right down, thank you.”
He disconnected the call and laced up his sneakers, then gave his apartment one last onceover before taking the elevator down to the ground floor. Rhys was double-parked because of course he was. Out of his car, he leaned against the passenger side door with his arms crossed over his chest and those pouty lips resting in the typical smug scowl that set on his face. He was dressed, as normal, in slim cut, tailored slacks that hugged his thighs in the ways Beckett wanted to, and a plain white button up with the sleeves rolled toward his elbow. Rhys always looked like he’d just come from work, and Beckett wondered if he had. He’d always assumed that Rhys didn’t have to work, but there had to be a way he made all the money he had. That would have been a good date question, and he filed it away for later.
Which was a good thing because, when Rhys saw him, his expression softened. Barely, but enough that Beckett noticed it, and that stupid pesky feeling in his chest did a somersault behind his sternum and every coherent thought he’d ever had left his brain. Rhys pushed his weight off the car and opened the passenger door and waited. Beckett hopped off the curb and headed into the street. He didn’t know if a hello kiss was appropriate, considering they’d only kissed once before, but he wanted to kiss Rhys again so badly he could taste it.
“You look nice,” Rhys said quietly. The veins on his forearms bulged, snaking up his arms and under the cuffs of his shirt.
“It’s just my shitty work clothes.”
“You look nice,” Rhys repeated.
Beckett blushed and looked down at the asphalt. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to take me to work. Especially after I cancelled our date.”
“Get in.” Rhys jerked his chin toward the open door and set off around the car, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Beckett did as he’d been told, closing the door behind him. The hazard lights clicked a steady monotone noise, and Beckett found himself entirely unsurprised that Rhys drove an Audi. He turned, craning his neck to check the back seat, finding a plaid flannel blanket and a retro-looking picnic basket on the floor behind the driver’s seat.
“Were you going to take me on a picnic?” he asked, twisting back around.
Rhys turned off the hazard lights and merged into traffic. “Yes.”
It took exactly four minutes to get to his work, and Beckett sighed at how much time it cost him to walk. He’d expected Rhys to drop him at the curb, but he pulled into the lot and turned off the car.
“Thank you for the ride,” he said.
“Do you mind if I stay?”
“What?”
“I was going to eat on the picnic, which I don’t get to have now,” Rhys explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “And I was planning on spending the evening with you. I can still do both. If you don’t mind.”
Beckett’s breath caught in his throat and he managed a nod. “Alright.”
Rhys rewarded him with a small smile, and followed him toward the restaurant. He made sure to get Rhys seated in his section, then he went to clock in, finding Heather in the back, waiting for him.
“I didn’t think you were here,” he said, making eye contact with her.
“I’m practically always here.” She looked frazzled, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But now that you’re here, we’re staffed and I’m going.”
“Right.”
“You can plan on working brunch next Sunday,” she said.
“Not Saturday, too?”
“We’ll see.” Heather rolled her eyes and brushed past him.
Beckett sighed and went to check his tables. The restaurant was busy, though less so than in the mornings, and he found the table that Rhys was given, tucked in the corner near a window.
