4. Beckett

4

BECKETT

T he café was absolute chaos with the waning brunch crowd, and I sat tucked into a back corner as my husky form wouldn't comfortably fit at the more central tables. I'd shown up an hour early because I'd needed a moment to calm my nerves. I silently laughed at myself because my hands were sweaty with anticipation, and I swore I was on the edge of a panic attack. It all seemed so foolish since I had to be at least fifteen years older than Stanton.

Since I'd spoken to him the night before, our conversation kept circling in my mind. Why did the gorgeous man want me to be his boy? It made no sense. Wouldn't he want someone more like himself? I didn't consider myself an unattractive man, but my looks fit a man in his mid-forties. Although, the premature silver hair aged me. The jangle of the bell above the door sounded too loud with the already overwhelming volume inside the café.

I looked up as Stanton entered, wearing jeans that showcased his trim hips and legs, and an electric blue v-neck t-shirt that showed off a leanly muscled upper body. Even casually dressed, Stanton seemed elegant, and I felt like a hulking brute next to him. He raised his hand to run his fingers through his mussed, honey-blond hair, and as he glanced around the room, I held my breath. My chest ached with eagerness when stormy-gray eyes stopped on me. His soft lips, I'd only felt a total of three times, curved into a smile that instantly brightened his handsome face.

He wove through the maze of tables until he stopped beside the one I was seated at. "Hey, baby, I didn't keep you waiting, did I," he asked, as he pinched my chin like he'd done in my office and tipped my head back. Stanton slowly kissed me, suckling so gently on my lower lip. His deep groan tickled my mouth as he released my chin to stroke his fingertips along my bearded jaw. "My day just got a hundred times better," he whispered, and then he kissed me one more time before he took the chair across from me. "You didn't answer me. Did I keep you waiting?"

"No, no, I—" I cut myself off, and he arched a brow at me. "I was nervous, so I showed up early."

"Thank you for being honest with me. They're busy! Is it always this way? With my schedule, I'm normally in here later in the evening."

"It's the tail end of Sunday brunch, I forgot about that. Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"This is the place you picked because you were comfortable meeting here. I do require copious amounts of coffee, though. My night was longer than I planned."

"What happened?" I asked as he shook his head.

"Two testosterone-driven bros fighting over the same girl. I had to deescalate it before it ruined the birthday girl's party. It didn't end until four AM since it was a private event, and I slipped into my lonely bed thinking about you at six."

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt confident, but the way Stanton studied me stroked the still-festering wounds to my self-esteem. His smile made me feel special, as if he really wanted to be there with me. When a pretty server approached the table, Stanton asked if I needed a refill, and I shook my head, so he ordered a coffee. She placed a few menus on the table and left us alone. I hadn't missed her interest or the way her cheeks pinkened when Stanton had smiled at her.

Yet, as soon as she was gone, his attention was right back on me. He rested his forearms on the table, and his fingertips brushed the backs of my hands. His paler, smoother ones looked so odd beside my larger hands. Again, I tried to pinpoint the last time a man had shown me a public display of affection, a kiss that showed others we were probably more than friends. Stanton clearly had no issues announcing with his actions we were together—at least on a date.

"We could've rescheduled if you were—" When he laced his fingers through mine, my teeth snapped together so quickly they clicked. He brought my hand to his mouth to brush a kiss to my knuckles.

"If lunch and our afternoon go well, you can join me for a nap before I have to send you home."

"Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?" I asked, my cheeks heating as my voice cracked.

"I didn't say I was going to try to fuck you, I just said a nap." He pressed another kiss to my knuckles and closed his eyes. "Boy, I'm dying to cuddle you. Maybe a movie and takeout at my place for dinner. That is if you don't find me totally insufferable by the time dinner time comes around." He winked at me, and I couldn't resist the compulsion to roll my eyes at him.

I felt a sense of loss when the server returned to drop off his coffee, and he released my hands. She asked if we were ready to order. We both declined as we hadn't even glanced at the menu, and she said she'd be back shortly.

"You recommend anything?"

"I've tried just about everything they have. This is close to my apartment so when I work late, I normally get takeout from here. Which means I get a lot of takeout." I hated to admit most nights, I worked until I had no choice but to power down my computer and reluctantly head home with barely a few hours to relax. A few drinks before I had to get myself into bed, only to start the grind over again a few hours later.

"That's unacceptable. My mother doesn't approve of people working to the detriment of their personal lives."

"She did come to my office after you left the other day and asked why I wasn't at lunch. Since the divorce, I'm still trying to find my way." The change in routine was a harder transition than I'd anticipated. It hadn't hit me until Tanner left how much I'd forced my schedule and life into what minimal time he'd allowed me.

"I can't believe someone would let you get away."

Once again, I felt the sting of heat in my cheeks and hid it by making a show of checking out my menu, when I could probably list everything on it without a mistake. I needed a minute to gather my thoughts. There was a neediness building in the pit of my stomach. Other than some Daddy Kink in the bedroom, I'd always made sure I purported myself in a manner that never let me appear vulnerable. Not even with Tanner, the man I'd vowed to love for the rest of my life, earned every single part of me.

I didn't know how to allow myself to be unprotected, and in the past year, I'd wrapped that strong appearance around me like a shield. Stanton wouldn't allow that. I could sense he'd demand I show him all my scars and still-healing wounds. He terrified me. I wanted to be the type of person who could allow everything to fade away under someone else's care, but I never had been. Most of the time, I was too exhausted to do more than exist.

"Baby, are you okay?" Stanton's voice drew me from my troubled thoughts, and I realized without me even noticing he'd hooked a finger over the top of my menu to pull it down.

"Sorry, I sometimes get lost in my head for no reason at all. "

"If you want to talk about him, I'm here to help." I was about to explain it wasn't important, but he stretched out his arm to stroke his fingertips down my cheek. "I'm aware you don't trust me yet, but I promise, I want to hear your thoughts. Doesn't matter how big or small."

He knew exactly what to say. That jaded part of my brain—my bruised heart and ego—urged me to keep my suspicions about his intentions safely in place. If Stanton just wanted to fuck me, I'd probably submit easily, but that's not what I wanted. For the rest of the day, I'd allow myself to learn more about Stanton, and then I'd decide. He'd done nothing but be gentle with me since the night he'd comforted me in the darkness at the edges of the patio.

For a man who looked like me, that was strangely addictive. At the same time, it scared the fuck out of me.

The server returned and Stanton told me to order, and then he placed his for a turkey club and fries. Once we were alone again, that unyielding focus was back.

"What made you go for a legal career?"

"Family tradition. Nothing all that exciting. My parents are both corporate lawyers."

"Good relationship with them?"

"As with a lot of Queer people with conservative parents, it could be better, or a lot worse. I have an older brother and a younger sister. Both are married and successful. Both have given our parents grandkids. You seem close with your mother." I changed the subject and hoped he wouldn't push. My parents weren't bad people. They just didn't know how to deal with having a gay son. When I'd come out in my teens during the nineties, they'd crossed their fingers and hoped it was a phase.

"My father hated me. Okay, that may be a bit strong." He chuckled and then took a swallow of his coffee. "Mama and I were… I guess you could say we were best friends… still are. Fath er had this belief that all the time I'd spent with her turned me gay."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be, love. Him and I had an unspoken agreement that we'd spend as little time together as possible. His opinion of me wasn't important, not then, and not now that he's dead."

"Is that why you don't have a presence in the company?"

"Very much so. Early on, I knew he wouldn't want to bring me into the company in any way. Mama doesn't even try. She knows I'm happy where I am."

"Is it stressful?" I asked because I'd never really been around an event organizer before. That seemed like so many moving parts, and I'd be overwhelmed before step one.

"It has its moments. Vendors that fall through. Family or friend drama. The few weddings I've done cured me of planning those. I hired two experienced wedding planners to handle that nightmare. And I'm completely unreachable on wedding nights."

"Not a fan of weddings?"

"It's not that, it's more like…" He paused to take a swallow of his coffee. "There's a certain amount of people demanding perfection when nothing in life is. The smallest inconvenience is treated with the same intensity as the aftermath of a nuclear explosion. Weddings are ridiculous affairs, and my face can't hide my thoughts on them, so I make myself scarce and let the experts handle all that."

"Yeah, I got married by a justice of the peace, and then we went back to work and left on a weekend trip that evening. When my sister got married, it was like a Broadway production that in no way looked fun."

"Small and intimate, that's the way to go. I understand it's someone's big day… the one they'd dreamed of, but most of it is too pretentious."

We moved on to other subjects, mostly silly ones—everything from favorite colors to most embarrassing moments. I sensed myself relaxing the longer we sat there sharing conversation and having lunch and then dessert. Stanton was attentive and sweet, intelligent and witty, and while he had a lot of mischief in his temperament, it wasn't malicious. I just enjoyed being with him, and after a few hours, I wanted more meals and conversations. Yet there was a compulsion I had to rein in. I wanted another kiss before our date ended.