Cup of Joe (Bold Brew 1)

Joe shrugged like this was no different than grabbing a pizza together. “I owe you cooking lessons, remember? And if you come over early, I’ll show you what I’m doing for the meat and sides.”

“But you want me to meet your dad?” I was still hung up on that aspect of the invitation.

“We’re friends, right?” Giving another shrug, Joe’s voice was measured. A little too measured, like he was having to work at being relaxed. “I mean, I know it’s a casual—”

“Yeah,” I cut him off with my fast agreement. The last thing I wanted was to be the one pushing for something else. I didn’t even know where I’d be at the end of the summer when my sublet ended.

“If you’d rather simply stick to hooking up, that’s cool, but I’m also good with being friends outside the bedroom.”

Joe was so freaking adult that sometimes I wasn’t sure whether to hug him or flee before I ended up with even more feelings that I didn’t know how to handle. And yes, I did need friends. Other than work and some exploring around Laurelsburg on my own, I hadn’t done much socializing at all in my weeks here.

“I like hanging out with you too,” I admitted. And I did. Most of our talks ended up being about way more than simply sex and likes and dislikes for kink. Saturday we’d discovered that we both liked this movie franchise known for car chases, so we’d laid in my bed while waiting on Joe’s laundry, watching the first one again together and talking. And yes, we’d had sexy late-night calls, but they usually started off with Joe asking about my day and ended with quiet pillow talk that I liked almost more than the orgasms. “I just…You don’t want to keep me on the down-low from your dad?”

Joe blinked at that. “Why? He’s a good guy. He’s met plenty of my friends—and dates. I mean, I don’t talk about everything with him, but I also don’t feel the need to hide you away.”

“I like that.” My voice came out soft. I liked not being a secret. I’d been so much of one with Rick that I hadn’t even seen the red flags until it had been too late, and even my couple of other fumbles in college had been covert operations.

“Good.” Nodding decisively, Joe pulled out his phone. “I’ll text you the address. And Dad never stays that late. We’ll have plenty of time after. If you want.”

“I want.” A low thrum of arousal started at the mere suggestion of play later. I’d have to figure out the bus schedule; I wasn’t going to burden Joe with a request for a ride.

“Excellent.” The heat in his eyes said I wasn’t the only one with sexy thoughts. He dropped his voice to a purr. “Wear something pretty under your jeans.”

“Yo, Dimples. Break done?” Blake called out right as a squeak escaped my throat.

“Go on,” Joe waved me away before I could question his request. He did like to tease me via text about wearing panties to work, but not in a demanding fashion. I still wasn’t sure how much of Joe’s interest in my underwear was genuine and how much was him trying to indulge me.

Which meant I spent the rest of my shift debating whether or not to comply, which was a nice distraction from my nerves over meeting Joe’s dad. If I didn’t follow Joe’s order, I might be able to goad him into a spanking, something he’d threatened but not actually delivered, yet. That was a delicious possibility. With Joe, the freedom to disobey was heady, something I wanted to explore more.

But another part of me wanted to be good for him. And there was also the naughty factor of riding public transit in regular clothes while knowing what I had underneath.

And so, I ended up catching a bus from the downtown area to the other side of the college campus to a neighborhood filled with older, well-kept homes. The whole ride, I had to work not to shift overly much, the slipperiness of the underwear I’d finally settled on highly distracting.

I had a few blocks to walk from the closest bus stop, through the sort of sitcom-perfect streets where all the homeowners probably coordinated holiday light displays and hotly debated placement of speed bumps. This was a boxers-and-briefs, football on Sundays, and macho trucks neighborhood, and I bounced between loving my little secret and feeling highly out of place.

Joe had an actual house, a pretty blue one with white shutters, and flowers in a planter out front. Very domestic. It was bigger than the apartment Mom, Grandma, and I had shared, but about the same size as Mom’s new house with Ed. Cozy.

“Hey.” Joe opened the door before I could ring the bell. The idea of him having been waiting for me made my chest all warm. He peered around me at the driveway. “No car?”