How can this be happening right now?

He stood up and turned away from the glaring reminder of his past. It was like some twisted fucking joke. Just when he’d confessed his worse nightmare, it came back to haunt him. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead.

How the fuck was he going to tell Tate?

“Oh, by the way, remember Chris? Yeah, he’s going to be at the work function. You know, the one where I’m supposed to introduce you to everyone as my partner.”

Logan kicked his foot against the wall and then cursed at the pain that shot up his leg.

Goddamn it. Yeah, break your foot, moron.

He pulled out his cell and pressed it to his chest, thinking about every possible scenario. There was no way he couldn’t tell Tate, and the thought of telling him terrified him.

They’d just gotten to a good place—and now this.

Bringing his phone up, he hit Tate’s number and placed a hand on the metal divider of the windows, waiting for him to answer.

Logan almost wished for a moment that he’d get Tate’s voicemail, but then what the fuck would he say?

“Mornin’.”

Logan closed his eyes and pictured Tate exactly how he’d left him—lying on his back, the sheet down by his hips, and one leg out over the top. He’d noticed that about Tate. It was almost as if he couldn’t decide if he were hot or cold, so he always gave himself the option.

That made him smile.

“You sound half-asleep.”

“It’s only eight a.m. Not everyone has a nine-to-five job, you know.” Tate’s voice was teasing and relaxed, and Logan hated that he would be the one to make that change.

“Have you worked a nine-to-five before?”

“Nope. Probably never will either. I like playing at night.”

Logan heard the invitation in Tate’s voice, and he wanted to take it, but—

“Hey? I need to talk to you about something today. Do you think you’d be able to meet me for lunch?” Logan closed his eyes and tried to get his heart to slow the fuck down.

“Logan?”

He heard the sheets rustle and knew Tate had just sat up.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

Logan heard the confusion in Tate’s voice and knew he wanted to be there to gauge his reaction when he told him this.

“I’d rather talk in person.”

“Oh sure, ‘cause that’s not gonna freak me out all morning.”

Logan knew he was saying this all wrong. He was never any good at getting the right words out when it came to Tate.

“No. It has nothing to do with you.”

The line went silent and all Logan could hear at the other end was Tate’s breathing.

“Nothing to do with me? So what does it have to do with, Logan? You?”

Logan winced at Tate’s tone. He was pissed, and Logan couldn’t really blame him.

“Yes. This is to do with me.” Suddenly, he realized how that sounded and added, “To do with us.”

“Logan, what the fuck is going on? It’s only been a couple of hours since you left.”

He turned around and stared at the computer screen that still had Chris’s photograph centered and tried to reassure Tate. “It’s not us. It’s just something that happened here at work. And I’d like to talk to you in person about it.”

He heard Tate sigh and could actually see him in his mind running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Okay. Where do you want me to meet you?”

Logan thought about it for a second then suggested, “The Daily Grind?”

“Fine. What time?”

Yeah. Tate was good and pissed. Logan checked his watch.

“How about noon?”

“Fine.”

The one-word answer was as telling as the tone.

“Tate?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

Logan waited as his heart thumped in his chest. Then he heard Tate reply, “Me too.”

And he breathed a little easier.

* * *

Tate arrived at the coffee shop a little earlier than they’d agreed on and found a booth in the back corner.

He’d been a mess all fucking morning.

After Logan hung up, there’d been no way he could get back to sleep, and he’d just lain there and run through everything that had happened the night before.

Did I do something to upset him? Offend him?

No, he didn’t think so. They’d gone dancing, and when they’d gotten home...he knew he hadn’t offended Logan then.

Maybe the stress of his family had finally gotten to Logan.

Fuck him for being so damn evasive. I’m driving myself crazy.

Tate watched the front door. When it opened and Logan stepped inside, he felt his heart skip. He looked like he had the first time Tate had ever seen him.

Logan was dressed in a grey three-piece suit and vest, with a crisp, white shirt and perfectly tied, navy-blue tie. Tate watched him scan the coffee shop from behind his black hipster glasses, and when he spotted him, Logan started his way.

Tate tried to decide what was different about him as he walked through the people milling around the counters. As he got closer, he realized that Logan was rubbing his hands together in front of him.

He’s nervous.

Tate watched him come to a stop by the booth he was at and ask, “Did you already get something?”

“I’m not hungry,” he told him, shaking his head.

“Okay then.”

“You go ahead and grab lunch if you like. I’ll wait here.”

Logan looked to the counter and then turned back to him. “Give me one sec. I’m just going to order a coffee.”

Sure, it’s not like I’ve been waiting all morning for you to tell me what the hell is going on.

“Fine.”

Logan leaned down to kiss his cheek and said, “If you tell me fine one more time, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

As he pulled away, Tate gave a fake grin full of teeth and answered, “Fine.”

Logan took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and held him in place as he lowered his mouth so their lips were touching. “Smartass,” he whispered, and Tate’s eyes closed as Logan pressed a kiss to his mouth.

He lost himself right there in the booth as Logan’s tongue flicked over his lips, and it wasn’t until he heard a cough from the other side of the table that Tate realized someone had sat down.

Robbie.

“This is almost as hot as you two grinding on the dance floor last night.”

Logan lifted his head, and Tate looked across to see the mischievous barista smiling at him like a cat that got the cream.

“Okay, Robbie. Move out, would you?”

“Oh, come on, Logan. It was just getting good,” he whined. Then he lowered his voice as if imparting a secret. “And he obviously doesn’t mind an audience.”

“He can hear you,” Tate reminded the little shit. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Robbie chewed on a piece of bright green gum and nodded. “Yep. I’m doing it. I came over to—”

“Take our order? So thoughtful,” Logan ended for him even though it was obvious by Robbie’s expression that that was not what he’d been about to say. “Want to get out of my seat?”

“How about you sit down beside me?” he invited as if Tate weren’t even there. Robbie’s habit of zeroing in on Logan and choosing to forget the rest of the world existed was surfacing yet again.

Tate watched Logan unbutton his jacket and noticed he held both his and Robbie’s attention as he peeled it off and then threw it across Robbie’s lap.

Logan then turned and looked at him. “Mind scooting over?”

Tate went to move over in the booth, and Logan sat beside him, placing a hand on his thigh under the table.

“Not too far.”

Tate swallowed slowly when he felt Logan’s hand squeeze his thigh. Then he turned back to Robbie, who was watching the both of them with an expression halfway between jealousy and arousal.

“Robbie?” Logan said.

Robbie’s eyes found Logan’s, and Tate knew what he was feeling. Poor kid. Logan was…potent.

“Can we have a double espresso and an extra nutty hazelnut latte?”