“I guess my dietary choices are rather predictable.” He laughed, giving one of those blushes of his I liked so much. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had venison.”
He ushered me into the condo, our bodies brushing in the entryway in an awkward dance of figuring out who was going first. I almost wished I had brought the meat. I liked the idea of giving him new experiences, introducing him to tastes he maybe hadn’t considered before. There I was, back to more sexy thoughts. I wasn’t entirely sure what his pull over me was. He was cute, sure, and he summoned all my protective instincts, but there was some sort of hard-to-describe, deep-seated quality to him that made me more nervous than I liked as I followed him into the main living area.
“I…uh…this is my place.” Quinn was still blushing. Maybe he was nervous for similar reasons. That was a nice thought.
“Nice view.” In reality, the condo was as bland as the building’s exterior, which had all the personality of a frozen dinner. Stark white walls interrupted by a massive bank of windows with an impressive ocean view. Tastefully bland leather furniture like he’d pointed at a staged furniture ad. Not that I could speak, seeing as how I’d never had the opportunity to truly decorate somewhere. Unlike me, Quinn probably didn’t covet antlers and vintage beer ads, but he deserved something a bit more homey. He wasn’t going to get over the jerkwad ex in a place that looked more like an extended-stay hotel.
“You ever think about painting?” I asked, mind galloping ahead to ways I could help him in the forget-the-ex mission.
Pausing in the living room, Quinn turned back to me. “Actually, yes. Not in here because I like the light and the high ceilings would be a pain, but I read that shades of blue can help sleep as a bedroom color. Not sure I’d be good at painting though.”
Bingo. There was the opening I’d hoped for. “I could help.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
Damn it. Back to formal Dr. Strauss. This was likely not a date or hookup. He was either nervous or not interested, and I hated not being able to tell. “Not in the market for friends?”
“I…uh…yeah, I maybe could use one.” His small smile held exactly enough hope to have me smiling back as he added, “Thanks.”
“What smells good?” I asked, trying to push aside any awkwardness and use the same charm that put customers at ease to get Quinn to dial back the nerves. I was a friendly guy and more than willing to be Quinn’s friend, but he’d need to drop words like impose from his vocabulary. The place really did smell good, like my mom’s at a holiday.
“I tried to remember what’s not on the menu at the Rainbow Tavern. I went with my mom’s mac-n-cheese because that seemed like the sort of pasta-based dish you might like.” Sure enough, getting him talking food was the right call as he settled down, adding a shy smile that went straight for my inner Daddy.
“Look at you. Dairy products. Living dangerously.” I smiled back at him, liking the zing of warmth that seemed to arc between us.
“There is a big salad too.”
“Of course, there is.” I laughed. I could fake enjoying vegetables to be polite when needed. “I like mac-n-cheese. My mom does a killer one when she’s not busy prepping breakfast for the B&B.”
“She sure keeps busy.” Quinn headed for the kitchen, which was typically beachy with white cabinets, stainless appliances, and a starfish above the fridge that I’d bet had been there when he moved in.
“All the rental repairs keep me busy too. I try to help out where I can.” Rolling my neck, I looked around the kitchen, trying to spot a way to lend a hand. “Anything I can do to help with dinner?”
“It’s almost ready.” Quinn retrieved a salad bowl from the fridge. “You’re close with your mom though. Even if the busyness is hard, that’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is.” I didn’t miss the wistfulness in his tone. “You’re not tight with your folks?”
“We’re not estranged or anything. But they’re older, set in their ways, and our relationship wasn’t that warm to start with. My coming out in college added to the frostiness. They divorced shortly after that, and my visits home tend to be tense as I have to split time between them.” He put the salad on the small table in the dining nook and then headed back toward the oven. “Your mom always seems like such a good supporter of the tavern.”
“She is.” I took a seat on one of the stools near the breakfast bar, trying to get out of Quinn’s way. “I’m damn lucky in the mom department. She’s my biggest cheerleader. That’s why I don’t mind helping her out. She’s always been there for me.”