Without taking his eyes off Robbie, Tate asked, “So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing. He’s talking out of his ass,” Logan interjected.

But it was too late. Tate wasn’t paying attention to Logan, and Robbie was having too much fun messing with the both of them.

Robbie straightened and shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Just that, usually, he goes female or, you know, my kind. You…you’re…well—”

“Well, what?” Tate demanded, and felt Logan grab his hand.

Not realizing quite how loud he had spoken, it wasn’t until the woman in the line beside them turned their way with a frown, that Tate mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Well, you’re like him. Big, tall…” Robbie joked, lowering his voice to a false baritone as he turned to Logan, and then Tate before trailing off. He seemed to be concentrating on something very important, then whispered, “And really sexy. I bet you two look so damn hot when you get together. Who tops?”

Tate almost choked as he heard Logan mumble, “Oh fuck,” beside him.

“Jesus,” Tate cursed. “No wonder you two get along. You have no filter either.”

Robbie frowned at him and looked toward Logan, who was still muttering something under his breath. “What do you mean? Who has no filter?”

“Nothing, forget it,” Tate grumbled, irritated that he was slightly amused by the entire conversation.

“Okay,” Robbie answered with a quick grin and then asked again conspiratorially, “So, who tops? I can’t imagine Logan as anything else, but then—”

He was cut off by Logan’s phone that started ringing at that exact moment. Tate turned just as Logan looked down at the screen and then back at him. He indicated the waiting area behind them.

“I’ve got to take this. Will you be okay here?” He emphasized the word here as he glared at Robbie.

“I guess,” Tate answered with much more surliness than he knew he possessed.

“Okay, just black for me.”

Nodding, Tate watched him walk away and then turned back to face Robbie on his own.

“Can we just have our coffees?” Tate requested through clenched teeth, his jaw starting to ache.

“Well, you could, but…” Robbie drawled in a way that was more than a little obnoxious.

“But what?”

With a quick, flirty wink, Robbie shrugged. “You haven’t ordered yours yet.”

Tate lost all of his annoyance that quickly, and he found instead that he was laughing and shaking his head. Great, just what I need—to actually find him humorous instead of annoying.

“Okay, Robbie, you win. God, I need a coffee now more than ever. Can I have a hazelnut latte? And his espresso. To go.”

“Sure. Want me to bring it over?”

Tate looked at him in a way that screamed, Not if you value your life.

Robbie’s smile was full of mischief as he finally put Tate out of his misery. “Got it. It’ll be ready here in just a minute.”

* * *

Tate made his way over to where Logan was standing with the phone pressed to his ear. Just as he got to the table, he heard, “Sorry, hon. It just isn’t going to happen again.”

Frowning, Tate came to a standstill, and Logan glanced at him across the table that was between them.

“No, it was nothing you did.”

Logan’s tone and his words made it abundantly clear that he was not talking to a work colleague or a client. Tate was trying his hardest not to pay attention to his insecurities as they knocked on the door in his brain when Logan reached over and took his hand.

“Jess,” Logan said and paused.

Jess? Jess? That name is familiar, Tate thought as he stared at Logan.

“Look, since we last spoke, I started seeing someone.”

The bar. That was where he’d heard the name, back when they had first met. He remembered Logan on the phone with a Jess, promising to see her or him, without their clothes on.

“Yes. It was fun, but this is serious,” he told the person on the other end of the phone as he moved around the table toward Tate.

When Logan was beside him and their hips and arms were brushing, he looked right at him as he said clearly, “This is exactly what I want.”

Tate felt his body heat at the words as his heart skipped in his chest, and everything finally fell into place. He was so ready to be with Logan in every way, and if he hadn’t been sure before, this confirmed it.

“Good-bye, Jess,” Logan said, ending the call and then placing the phone down on the table where he twirled it slowly. “What have you done to me, Mr. Morrison? Turned me into some relationship guy?”

Tate focused on the man studying him from behind the thick black-rimmed glasses. “You didn’t really think this through, did you?” he asked Logan.

Logan looked at him with an expression that relayed the words he then spoke, “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Tate leaned closer, so their faces were only inches apart, and he lowered his eyes to Logan’s mouth. “You never actually thought about what would happen if you finally got me to try what you wanted, did you? Did you actually believe that this wouldn’t turn into more? With this kind of heat?”

“Why should I have thought that? It never had before.”

Tate shifted his eyes back to Logan’s. “Yeah, but it wasn’t with me, was it? Have you ever stood in a coffee shop and wished that every single person in here would get out, so you could do exactly what’s on your mind?”

“Not until right this second. What’s on your mind?”

Tate looked around at everyone milling about, waiting on their drinks. “What you’ve always wanted—me under you. I’m ready to give it to you.”

Logan visibly swallowed. “You’re fucking trouble.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your own fault. Once I make up my mind, that’s it. You should probably remember that.”

“So,” Logan started and then cleared his throat, attempting to change the subject, “Robbie didn’t give you any more problems?”

“No, nothing other than that comment regarding your type and how I’m not it.”

Logan looked over his shoulder and glanced at the counter where Robbie was working, and when he turned back, he stepped in much closer than they had been before and placed a hand on Tate’s chest. Brushing his lips over his cheek, Logan told him, “He’s so very wrong.”

“Hmm, is he?” Tate questioned, openly enjoying Logan as he felt firm lips move up to his ear where Logan murmured, “Yes.”

Turning his head to Logan as though hypnotized, Tate heard his name called out to come and collect their coffees. He was sure his feet could take him to the counter, but they didn’t move him anywhere as he continued to stare at a grinning Logan.

“Better go get our drinks,” he teased as Tate finally stepped around him. “Oh, and by the way, Tate, so much better this time. You didn’t even flinch when I touched you.”

That smart-ass comment was all it took for his brain to kick in, just as Logan had known it would. Tate glared at him, flipped him off, and moved toward the counter.

Just as he got there, Logan called out to him, “I’ve got to take Cole’s call. This is the second one I’ve ignored this morning.”

Tate looked over his shoulder. “When was the first?”

Logan winked and laughed, leaving him to only imagine, as he walked toward the door. Tate turned back to the counter where Robbie stood, holding out their coffees, with a huge smile on his face that told Tate he’d been watching the entire interaction between Logan and himself.

“So, come on, tell me. Who tops?”

Tate held his hands out with a bored look on his face. He took the coffees and turned without saying one damn thing, but as he left to go and find where Logan was waiting on him, he realized he was happier than he had been in a long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cole had been terse on the phone with him when Logan had finally called back. He was obviously still worked up about their argument. Logan knew that they needed to patch their shit up and soon. The problem was, neither of them was particularly good at saying sorry, and instead, they enjoyed avoiding one another more. Although, that was no longer an option since Tate’s soon-to-be-ex had shown up already for their nine o’clock meeting—at eight.