It isn’t my secret, it’s Adam’s. But I’m relieved on his behalf. Not that I was really worried Tanner would blab. He’s not exaggerating when he calls himself a vault. The guy’s made an art form of communicating in as few words as possible.
But not everyone is as tight-lipped as he is. Which means I need to work on tamping down my enthusiasm when I’m around Adam, or people will start to talk.
And there I go again, shoving my own feelings deep down to accommodate someone else’s insecurities. I try not to let it bother me that I’m falling into the same old pattern as I watch Tanner point Adam in my direction. He’s here, right? That has to mean something.
“Hey.” His voice is softer and more uncertain than I’m used to. He shrugs out of his jacket and slides into the booth opposite me. “I’m sorry I’m late. Practice ran long, then Coach wanted to see me, and there was no way I was going out without taking a shower and doing a little, uh, personal grooming first.”
He’s rambling. It’s forking adorable. And the personal grooming comment has me suddenly, stupidly hopeful that I’ll be getting up close and personal with him and his banging body later tonight.
“It’s no big deal,” I lie, acting like I wasn’t totally freaking out sixty seconds ago, before he waltzed in looking like every little gay boy’s wet dream. “Tanner kept me company.”
I glance over at the bar, where Tanner is wiping down some glasses. He catches my eye and gives me a thumbs-up.
“The bartender?” Adam asks, eyeing Tanner’s massive, heavily inked arms. “He a friend of yours?”
My pulse kicks up a notch because—holy hockey sticks—he’s jealous. My hockey god is actually jealous. Admittedly, Tannerishot in a broody, intimidating sort of way. But he’s also very, very taken. His boyfriend Jax is a wildlife photographer.
“More like a surrogate big brother. He’s the bar manager. His boyfriend should be here soon. He usually stops in around this time when Tanner is working. They live right across the street.”
The wordboyfriendseems to perk Adam up and relax him at the same time. He pushes up the sleeves of his sweater and props his elbows on the table, leaning into me. “Well, I’m glad he gave you a reason to stick around. I was afraid you might have left.”
“You were?”
He nods. “I was worried I missed my chance. I didn’t want you to think I blew you off.”
“Your chance?”
“With you.”
Tanner picks that inopportune moment to appear at our table. It’s his second time out from behind the bar tonight. I’m definitely getting the VIP treatment, which is flattering. Even if his timing stinks.
“What can I get you?” he asks Adam.
Adam picks up the wine list and studies it. “What have you got for a red that’s sweet but not too sweet?”
Tanner pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. His cheat sheet, covered with his familiar chicken scrawl. “I’m told the Frontenac blend from Sparrow Farm is nice. Full-bodied, with a hint of cherries and vanilla. And the vineyard is local.”
Adam tilts his head quizzically. “You’re told?”
“Tanner’s more of a craft beer guy,” I offer.
Adam looks genuinely confused now. Most people do when they realize our wine bar manager knows bupkis about wine. “How did you wind up running a wine bar?”
Tanner grimaces and stuffs his notes back in his pocket. “Don’t ask.”
“I’ll try the Sparrow Farm.”
“Excellent choice. Or so I’m led to believe.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a wine drinker,” I say when Tanner is gone.
Adam shrugs and gestures at our surroundings. All the rich, textured wood and soft, dark leather that screams class. “When in Rome.”
I mimic him earlier, resting my forearms on the table and leaning in so I can lower my voice and still be heard by the only person that matters right now. “Before we were interrupted you were saying something about wanting a chance with me.”
Even in the dim lighting of the bar, I can see his pale cheeks flush pink. “Full disclosure, I think I should warn you that my last relationship—if you can call it that—was a total disaster.”
My heart leaps back to the ceiling atrelationship. I was willing to settle for a casual fling. At least to get things rolling. The fact that he’s already thinking past the physical is surprising. And promising.
