Cup of Joe (Bold Brew 1)

“What? I’m fine.” I glanced over at Joe again, hoping my longing wasn’t too obvious. My break wasn’t for another hour, though, and I wanted to be fair.

“No, you’re not.” Blake flicked me with the towel. “Go fix whatever’s broken with you and Daddy Bear so you can get your brain back to barista mode.”

“Sorry. I know I’ve been spacey today…”

“Yup.” Ever honest, Blake wasn’t the type to let me make excuses. “And I’m not really up for watching you and Joe pine for each other across the coffee shop while you drop cups and he broods. Go talk.”

“Going.” I wasn’t going to turn down the favor, and I hurried to hang up my apron.

Joe was playing around on his phone when I approached the table. I cleared my throat, still in hyper-awkward mode. “Can I… This seat taken?”

“I was hoping by you.” He gave me a much more tentative smile than he had earlier. “Is it your break time?”

“Not technically, but Blake says he doesn’t want to watch us pine.” I collapsed into the chair opposite him.

“Ah.” Joe regarded me over the rim of his drink. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Pining.” His smile turned playful.

I bit my lip. Playing it coy might be easier, but Joe deserved honesty, not games. “Yeah, I guess I am. Barely slept last night.”

“Me too.” His tired sigh mirrored my own.

“The neighbors probably hate me. I vacuumed super late. And dusted.”

He gave a sympathetic laugh. “I cleaned my stove.”

“Well, at least we were productive.”

“There is that.” Nodding, he held my gaze until I had to shift around in my chair.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it another second.

“I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time.

“You are?” I lifted my eyebrow, a little surprised at his ready apology.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have let you walk away.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Hurt tinged my voice. I still wasn’t over that, even if I could now see my own role in the argument. “But I shouldn’t have made it easy on you to do so.”

“You didn’t.” Joe’s shoulders slumped, and he studied the tabletop.

“I didn’t?” I pursed my mouth. Around us, the coffeehouse was hopping, all the weekend traffic along with visitors for the music festival, but my attention was riveted on Joe.

“I wanted to stop you, but I was afraid.” His voice was so low that I had to lean forward to hear him.

“You?” My eyebrows went up further. “I thought you don’t let anyone—or anything—intimidate you.”

I’d aimed for a teasing tone, but it probably came across more biting because I was still dealing with my hurt.

Nodding as if he understood my irritation, Joe regarded me with solemn eyes. “Except for you.”

“Me? I’m scary?”

“More like my feelings for you are terrifying.” He reached across the table for my hand. “I like you. A lot.”

“Me too.” Putting my hand over his, this time I was the one to hold his gaze, trying to match his seriousness.

“And it’s not simply about wanting to be your Dom and being worried I’m wrong for the role.”

My head tilted at that. Over by the window, someone dropped something metal, but I didn’t even flinch. “It’s not?”

“No. Sure, I’d like to be your Dom long-term, Levi, but I want more than that. I want to be your boyfriend. Your partner.”

“I want that too,” I admitted softly. My cheeks were hot, but instead of sweating, I felt on the verge of shivering with how much I’d wanted him to say those words. “And I wasn’t exactly acting like future partner material either.”

“What do you mean?” Joe squeezed my hand, strong fingers stroking against mine, reassuring in their familiarity.

I groaned because this was the part where I had to use my words and actually apologize. “It wasn’t the most mature, waiting for you to be the one to make a move first, expecting you to tell me how you felt and not being willing to return the favor. You were right about that.”

“Maybe, but I was dragging my feet, no question about it.”

Something about his frown made me want to kiss him. We were both being rather hard on ourselves, and I wished were back at his place, in his bed. Perhaps that would be easier than this semi-public unearthing of big emotions.

“I think we were both scared.” Since I couldn’t easily kiss him across the table, I settled for adding my other hand on top of his.

“Yeah.” He smiled shyly down at our Jenga pile of hands.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I only wanted you for revenge on Rick. I want you for a lot more than simply the intimidation factor. I want a boyfriend, not a bodyguard.” Being honest about wanting more was surprisingly easy now, especially with our hands and hearts so linked.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind—”

“Yeah, you do mind. And it was good that you spoke up because it also made me realize something important.”