“I made you get it. That first time you came in.”
“Made me? Trust me, people don’t make me do anything.” Joe laughed like I was fucking hilarious. And maybe I was. “You were in a jam that morning. Happy to help.”
“Yeah.” Then because that sounded like a petulant teen, I added, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He gave me another smile.
Nice. He was such a damn nice guy, and I’d taken advantage. I felt about as worthy as yesterday’s coffee grounds. And somehow it was worse that it was him.
Something about Joe got to me in a way other customers simply didn’t. I’d truly enjoyed thinking I was making him happy, earning compliments from him. Yet again, I’d let my inner praise junkie make a fool out of me.
“Here you go.” Blake slid Joe his perfectly made blended drink, caramel drizzle symmetrical, whipped cream a pillowy cloud, and a nutty aroma without any hint of burnt coffee. I’d get to that level. Someday.
“Thanks.” Joe let Blake finish ringing him out, but as he pocketed his wallet, he turned back to me. “Levi?”
“Uh?” I made a sputtery noise. Joe knew my name? How the— Oh. I glanced down at my chest. Yeah. That was right. I was wearing a shiny new name tag on the black apron covering my T-shirt. “Sorry. Yes?”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I appreciated how you always had my drink ready for me.”
“You could have let me try to make the real one.” I licked my lips. I sounded pouty. Bratty. And Joe would be well justified to roll his eyes at me or tell me off.
But he didn’t. Instead, his eyes went even softer as he nodded. “Yeah, I could have.”
My jaw unhinged so fast I was surprised the creak wasn’t audible to everyone in the coffeehouse. I wasn’t used to guys like Joe admitting to making mistakes. Despite the way he could gentle his deep voice, Joe had a pretty damn intimidating presence. The contradiction between his bar bouncer physique and humble attitude was more than a little intriguing.
This was a coffeehouse first, LGBTQ+ and kink-friendly space second, and the owners had all made it very clear to me that we were not supposed to ask personal questions or make assumptions about the patrons. That said, I was only human. And I’d spent a fair amount of time the last two weeks trying to figure Joe out. That he had big dick energy was a given, but he could be a hapless straight guy who’d wandered in because the coffeehouse was conveniently located. Him knowing Blake made that possibility a little less likely. So was he a Dom? Kinky in some other way? Queer?
I wanted to know. Now more than ever. Because in my assuredly tiny experience, Doms did not usually admit to having been wrong about anything. I was still embarrassed as hell about the whole situation, but as Joe headed for the doors, I was also intrigued far more than was healthy. Even if Joe were queer, kinky, and had a fetish for underemployed recent graduates with messy lives, I still knew better than to brew up anything other than daydreams.
Chapter Three
Joe
I was so ready for my weekend to start that when my phone buzzed outside of Bold Brew, I didn’t bother with a greeting. “I’m thinking pork chops on the grill, maybe with those foil-wrapped bacon potatoes you liked the other week. I can have it done by the time the game starts.”
“Can I take a raincheck?” My dad’s voice crackled.
“None of that.” Pacing away from the double glass doors, I forced an even cheerier tone. The NBA finals were on and would be the mood booster Dad needed, even if my company was not. “I’ll pick up—”
“I have plans.” Dad cut me off with a laugh that would have been sheepish coming from anyone else, but Doug Simmons didn’t do embarrassed. Ever.
“Plans?” My voice went up almost as high as my eyebrows. This was new. An early-summer breeze caught the nearby flowers in a planter, making them look as surprised as I felt.
Dad made a frustrated noise. “I don’t always need you to be my social director, Joe.”
“Hey—”
“Not that I don’t appreciate your help. I do.” He gentled his voice, exactly how I always did when I was trying to not be confrontational. “But I ran into Herb Metcalf at the market today, and he told me about a fish fry at the senior center tonight. Said he and Leslie would love to see me come out. Then I did what you’re always telling to do more of, and I said yes.”
Blinking a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining this turn of events, I nodded like he could see me. “I do always say that.”
“So you’ll be okay on your own for dinner?”