Page 10 of Checking Out the Librarian

And no jerking off in the shower.

4

BREAD BASKETS & BLUSHES

Jonathan didn’t think it was entirely coincidental that a restaurant named Le Poivre had opened across from The Salt Hotel, because a lot of things in Portland’s Pearl District tried to have winkingly clever names.

The reclaimed brick warehouse that was his date destination had been updated with nine-foot-tall, mullioned windows that, thanks to the beautiful June evening, were wide open. Tables and chairs dotted the former loading dock, and planters cacophonous with flowers he couldn’t name concealed the railings. He stopped too far away to hear the clinks of glassware and cutlery, but the buzz of well-dressed diners hummed through his veins.

One of his favorite parts of his years studying in New York had been street dining, just like this. Whether or not he could find people to join him, seats on the street never felt alone.

BatsAndBalls

I’m at the bar

Axel1998

I’ll be right there.

BatsandBalls

In a blue shirt

He’d been excited since flirting with the baby gay in the lobby. Not only had Connor been wide-eyed, pink-cheeked, and sporting thighs Jonathan could stand on, the interaction had reassured him that even a sporty type could be wowed by fabulous Jonathan, which boded well for tonight.

He tamped himself down at work, appropriately so because work was for the public, and distracting with his full marvelousness wouldn’t help at his job. Tonight, however, he intended to be completely himself, and if nail polish, full eyes and jewelry were too much for BatsAndBalls, he would stake out the hotel lobby. It hadn’t turned off Connor.

At least, Jonathan didn’t think the nail polish and flirting had been too much, although he wondered if the nice blond man-puppy had much experience with other men. It had only taken the tiniest amount of teasing to get him to blush in a way that left Jonathan wondering how long and far those pink shades would go, and whether the flush extended to his entire chest under the right circumstances. Also, Connor’s butt had been at least as good as the profile of the man Jonathan had arranged to meet.

It was time. He stepped to the host stand, gave his name for the reservation, and said he was joining his friend in the bar.

As he moved between tables toward the territory of the back bar, a dozen strides in the direction the host had indicated, Jonathan registered the broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair of one particular man perched next to an empty stool. The periwinkle blue shirt was leveled up so many stages above that awful gray thing from the lobby that he expected a final boss to be lurking, but the shoulders and hair were unmistakably do-beers-have-vintages Connor.

It appeared that the question about whether Mr. Internet’s butt was as round and firm as Lobby Connor’s had a very satisfying answer.

Jonathan stopped a few steps away.

Connor had rolled the sleeves of his bright blue chambray button-down to a point above his elbows where the fabric strained to encase his biceps. The golden hair, suntanned skin, and casual strength in his forearms looked far more enticing emerging from the tightly folded cuffs than hanging from that T-shirt. Sitting on the stool, he was several inches taller than Jonathan, but he sensed that Connor wasn’t a man seeking to dominate the space he occupied.

“BatsAndBalls, I presume?”

Connor’s shoulders turned quickly enough that he wobbled before he planted his foot firmly on the ground. “Yes. Wait, what? But you’re Jonathan.”

“On the internet, nobody knows you’re a cat. Or Axel1998.”

Connor’s face lit up, big curves yielding a dimple that Jonathan hadn’t seen during the lobby conversation. No one had looked at Jonathan with that much pleasure for a very long time, and he felt his own lips curving and his eyes crinkling and damn if he wasn’t leaning toward this hunk of sunshine.

They stood there smiling at each other but not speaking, until Connor licked his lips.

“Can I order you one of these? They’re really good.”

He glanced at the coupe glass in front of Connor. “Not an IPA?”

Connor shrugged. “Someone hinted I should go fruitier, so I did.”

Jonathan raised his eyebrow at the amber liquid.

“Hey, it has a cherry. And elderflower liquor. Liqueur. I think the menu said it was called St. Germain. Fruity, right?”