Donovan went to the register to retrieve the cash and lock it in the safe, gesturing for Tate to continue.
“I didn’t expect us to actually … go out.”
Donovan frowned. “What kind of guys do you date?”
“What do you mean?”
“Surely they’ve taken you to dinner before.”
Tate shrugged. “Once in a while.”
That was certainly interesting.
“Well, then, this might be new for you. I like to eat, and I’m not big on cookin’ for one, so I tend to go out. I don’t usually eat alone, but I will if I’m hungry enough.” He closed the register and took a slip of the receipt paper. “And at the moment, I am. But I’d much prefer you to go with me.”
Donovan paused in front of Tate, who was still staring at him blankly.
“For the record, I’ll also take you to the movies and clubs. Concerts. Once in a while, I’ll have a work function. You opposed to any of that?”
Tate shook his head, but his lack of response concerned Donovan a bit. He decided to table that conversation until they were sitting at one. He really was starving.
“Good answer.” Donovan grinned. “Let me lock this up, and then we’ll go eat so I can take you back to my house and fuck you again. I fully intend to make up for missin’ out this mornin’.”
Tate’s loud swallow made him laugh.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth in the diner across from one another. The place was busier than he expected, but it didn’t surprise him. It was Christmas Eve, and most of those people would likely be cooking tomorrow, so they were treating themselves to a timeout from kitchen duty tonight.
“Do you like to cook?” Donovan asked as they perused the menus while they waited for the waitress.
“On occasion.” His eyes lifted. “That’s not to say I’m good at it.”
“Reilly says you make killer enchiladas.”
“I do.” Once again, he was looking at the menu. “She likes ’em. Or claims to.”
Donovan gave Tate a few minutes to settle. He still seemed somewhat uncomfortable, which was the opposite of how he usually was. When Tate was around Reilly, he never shut up. Without her here, he seemed to be at a loss for words.
The waitress did a drive-by, quickly jotting down what they wanted and delivering water and a basket of bread. Donovan ignored both, opting to keep his full attention on Tate.
“Okay,sweetie,” he drawled, “what’s on your mind?”
Tate’s gaze snapped up. He huffed a laugh. “You’re makin’ fun of me.”
“No. Of course not.” He leaned back and tapped Tate’s foot with his. “Relax. I won’t ravish you in public.”
Tate’s smile remained.
Donovan leaned forward. “Unless you ask nicely.”
“Careful,” Tate said. “I might just do that.”
“Careful,” Donovan mocked. “I will follow through.”
Tate gasped and continued to wipe the condensation off of his water glass.
“Did you ever get your schedule changed?”
Tate frowned. “What?”
