Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
They hadn’t always succeeded. And that last time… Well, it was a good thing they’d left when they did.
“Let’s just say my siblings and I are Finns of a different sort. Or we were. Thanks to Bronte, William has a second chance to get things right. And thanks to William, Calamity and I do as well.”
“Calamity?”
“My little sister, Kate.” Matthew’s head shook ruefully. “I’m still doing it. How is it that I’m the one gabbing like a guilty man in confession when it’s you I’m interested in?”
Oliver’s hand opened on the table, close enough for Matthew to feel the heat of it on his skin. Close enough to touch.
“Well, you’re telling me what an undeserving git you are so I’ll trust you,” he reminded him lightly. “Black sheep, easy virtue, boring job—you’ve covered most of the basics. And I heard you throw in the words kink and club, so now I’ve got that visual to haunt me at night.”
Matthew’s lips twitched. “Hard to resist, yeah?”
“Pretty much.”
It astonished Matthew, how easy this was. That they could laugh even after his admissions. How could he be this comfortable around a man he barely knew? A man he wanted more with every minute that passed.
“To balance things out, I suppose I could tell you that my family doesn’t acknowledge that I’m gay at all,” Oliver shared in a barely audible voice. “They’d do anything for me, except that. I tell myself it’s one of those cultural things. There’s not much room in mine for swishy Latino dancers that are a little too obviously what they are.”
“I wouldn’t call you swishy.”
Oliver snorted. “I’ve seen your family wandering in and out of the gym for two weeks now. That’s enough testosterone-flavored beefcake to fill fifty calendars. Compared to them, I’m one hundred percent swish.”
“I don’t spend that much time looking at them.” Matthew let his pinky finger brush against Oliver’s skin. “You, on the other hand…”
He let the sentence linger for a moment. “I know a few folks back in Ireland who don’t like to be confronted in public but are far too curious and judgmental about who’s buggering who in private. So I think I understand.”
“We give the Irish some serious competition in that category,” Oliver said in a teasing tone. “Plus, I hear our food’s better.”
“Oi.”
Oliver flashed a quick grin of acknowledgement, but his expression sobered quickly. “That’s why I don’t like to talk about them when I’m…if I’m with a guy,” he admitted. “Most men don’t understand why I’m not on a permanent soapbox or keeping my distance. I’m not trying to change minds and build bridges with my sexuality. I’m trying to be happy. And they’ll come around, or they won’t. I know they love me despite their own bullshit.”
Their fingers were clinging and releasing now, not quite holding hands, but the connection made Matthew ache for more.
“I’m not saying they make it easy to keep quiet. But my grandmother and uncles raised me, paid for my education and years of dance lessons, complete with bright pink leotards. Don’t ask,” he chuckled. “Family means everything to them. There are just a few things we can’t talk about at the dinner table without starting a fight we all know from experience none of us will win.”
Matthew nodded his understanding. “Uncle Shawn—that’s Owen’s dad—is the most easygoing Irishman you’ve ever met, but from what I hear his brother was the worst sort of narrow-minded arse, and cruel on top of it. At least you know you’re loved.”
“Wow, this got deep fast,” Oliver said self-consciously, sliding his hand back into his lap. “Another reason I don’t bring up personal history on dates.”
“So you’re admitting it’s a date again?” Matthew said with a teasing smile. “I’ll name that progress.”
Oliver rolled his eyes again. “You can call it whatever you want, you’ll still be straight when it’s over. And I still won’t be interested in experimenting.”
“Fine. No experiments then. We’ll be friends.” Putting limits on this was the last thing he wanted, but if it meant he could see Oliver again, he’d take what he could get.
Oliver looked startled. “Friends? Oh. Okay, that’s good. Smart.”
Smart, my ass. I’ll have blue balls for the rest of my life.
A tired-looking barista with a tray hovered in his peripheral vision and Matthew realized they were the only customers left in the shop. Why hadn’t he chosen a twenty-four-hour diner? “Closing time?”
Oliver looked up in surprise and then got to his feet with nervous grace, fiddling with the keys in his pocket as he stood beside his chair. “This was fun.”
Soft laughter rumbled up from Matthew’s chest as he joined him after leaving a tip. “Was it?”
“An adventure,” Oliver amended. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He would see him every day if Matthew had anything to say about it. And hopefully a few nights while they were at it. “I’m walking you to your car, Legs.”