“Huh?” Bailey raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t pay me the slightest bit of attention when we’re here, and I have to drag the conversation out of you. You only have eyes for Mr Gorgeous over there.” Bailey followed Ryan’s gaze and found himself taking in the muscled form again. Barista-guy was chatting to some customers. He was balancing a pile of plates in each hand, the weight of the load accentuating the taut muscles of his arms. The sleeves of his pale-blue buttoned shirt were rolled back to the elbows, exposing strong forearms with a light smattering of fair hair. The fabric pulled across his well-defined shoulders and disappeared into the waist of his jeans, the strings of his apron cinching around a narrow waist. He was mouth-watering.
“Fuck, Bailey. Stop drooling on the menu.”
Bailey snapped back to look at Ryan, almost tempted to wipe his chin. It wouldn’t have surprised him if hehadbeen salivating over his crush.Crush?He looked down at the menu, not even realising he’d picked it up from the centre of the table. Maybe he was a bit obsessed with the dude but his little obsession didn’t do any harm.
His musing was interrupted as the man himself stopped by the table. “What’ll you have, guys?”
Bailey looked up into the big brown eyes of the man towering over him. “Ah… I’ll have a large flat white and a chicken Caesar wrap.”
“You want that toasted?”
“Sure, that’d be great.” Bailey’s smile was met with a grin. Barista-guy really did have a fabulous smile—his well-groomed beard framing full, pink lips and a flash of perfectly aligned teeth. Not for the first time, Bailey wondered if he’d had braces to get them so straight, unlike Bailey’s own slightly crooked teeth. The man turned to Ryan and efficiently took his order before heading back to the kitchen.
“Now that you’ve had your daily dose of gawking—”
“I wasn’t gawking,” Bailey said.
“Perving then.”
“Isn’t that the same as gawking?” Bailey asked.
“Yep. Which is exactly what you were doing,” Ryan chuckled.
“All right. So I was gawking. Perving. Whatever. But you’ve got to admit he’s definitely worth looking at.”
“Oh, I’ll give you that, all right. He’s got a great, tight body. He’s good-looking. He makes a mean macchiato. He’s Mr Perfect.”
“Wh—”
“Mr Perfect for you anyway,” Ryan continued. “MyMr Perfect, on the other hand, doesn’t look as if he goes to the gym every day. My guy is a real man. Natural.”
“Hey! He’s more than just his muscles. You’ve seen how polite and friendly he is to his customers, and how he knows so much about his regulars. Anyway, what’s wrong with someone who looks after his body? He’s obviously fit and cares about his health. You go to the gym and— What?”
Ryan sat back with folded arms and a smirk on his face. “You’re pretty quick to jump to the defence of a guy you claim is no more than eye candy.”
Bailey slumped in his seat, defeated. Sometimes he hated that Ryan knew him so well.
Ryan leaned across the table and patted his hand. “Don’t worry, mate. Your secret is safe with me.”
* * *
“Hey, Tommy!” The voice boomed across the coffee shop, echoing within the confines. “What are you up to, mate?”
Tom glanced up from the register to see a few of his buddies filing through the glass door. Elliot held the heavy door open for John and Phil, letting in a blast of frigid air. A smile lit Tom’s face at the sight of the three guys who’d been his best friends since high school. They’d all gone to the same private school and hung out in the same circles outside of school. Elliot was the son of his mum’s best friend, so they’d even spent countless family holidays, both beach and skiing, together.
“Hey guys. Great to see you. Come on in and shut the door, it’s freezing out there.”
“Fuckin’ oath. It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” John said as he unwound the scarf from around his neck.
Tom laughed, mainly because the words were so at odds with the man in front of him. John had completed his law degree and was working with a well-known city firm. He was dressed the part, with a fine cashmere black coat covering his no-doubt custom-made suit. He looked designer from the top of his immaculately groomed dark hair to the tips of his highly polished shoes. In contrast to his appearance, John sounded like he should be working on the docks.
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Phil punched John on his upper arm.
“Ouch.” John rubbed the affected biceps. “You big bully,” he said, but the grin never left his face. John and Phil had been teasing each other for as long as Tom could remember. Phil was large—more like huge really—over six feet and wide, and he’d always had a problem with his weight. Maybe it was the lack of sport because admittedly he didn’t do a lot of activity, but his bulk was most likely genetic, given his parents’ stature. He was forever using his size in mock fights with the others, and they returned the teasing.
“You guys want coffee?” Tom asked as he bumped fists with each of them, then made his way back behind the timber counter.
