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Taylor tapped her fingers on the bar, guessing, “Working?”
Hot Professor was seated between two other guys. On his right was a man in a baseball cap, holding a pint, occasionally nodding along at whatever they were saying. On the left was a guy with a beard and man bun, pointing at the paper, talking a lot as Hot Professor…took notes?
But I didn’t know how anyone could think over the Anchormen’s version of Britney’s “Toxic.”
I continued to watch the trio. Hot Professor had a habit of sucking his lips between his teeth in thought, his eyes glazing over for a few seconds, and then he’d write furiously. To say my interest was piqued was an understatement.
When Nate made his way back to Taylor and me, checking in, I tipped my chin in their direction. “Do you know them?”
Nate glanced back. “Oh yeah. They’re my good buddies. Why?”
“Is that the guy from the hot?—”
“Please don’t go up to him. He’s mortified.”
“So, he is the Hot Professor?”
Nate rolled his eyes. “He’s not that hot.”
I snorted a laugh. “Yes, he is.”
Nate struck a pose, popping his triceps. “More than me?”
“Well, you’ve got different vibes. It’s apples and oranges.”
“Yeah, but oranges are much hotter than apples, aren’t they?”
“If you say so.” I shook my head in amusement. “What are they working on?”
Nate glanced over his shoulder again then leaned his forearms on the table. Because I was pretty much a regular here, I’d learned Nate was a bit of a gossip. It’s why we got along so great. “Those are my boys, okay? The hairy one on the end there? We go way back to high school, and the other two have been coming here for a while. They’re all single dads, and they come here to hang out and relax.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t go up and ask him for a selfie?”
He laughed. “O’Neil’s not dealing with his newfound fame real well, and we’re trying to help him.”
“You?” I deliberately splayed my hands out in front of me, encapsulating the bar.
“I’m providing free drinks while they come up with a list for his nanny search.”
“His nanny search?”
Nate stood, stacking a few coasters in the corner of the bar. “He needs help with his kid. He was on the national news for a reason. The guy’s brilliant, but Finn’s a tiny terror.”
“Finn’s his little boy?” I asked, thinking of the bespectacled toddler charging into his father’s interview with the gusto of a marching band.
“Yeah. With everything going on, he decided he needs some help. So the boys are coming up with qualifications for the application.”
“Seems like you got the easy end of the deal. You provide the drinks while they do all the work.”
He slapped his hand on the bar, grinning. “Made it through thirty-three years kid-free and plan on making it through the next thirty-three the same way.”
Behind me, the band finished up their set, and Taylor turned, listening in on my conversation with Nate as I asked, “Do you know what he’s looking for?”
“In a nanny?” When I nodded, Nate shrugged. “Why? You interested?”
“I might be,” I said, and Taylor stuck her finger in the air.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What did I miss?”
