Chapter Three
The restaurant was packedwith people.
Jesse deserved a swift kick to the ass. If he’d stopped and thought about it, he would’ve taken two seconds to hop onto the restaurant’s website and make a reservation. He could’ve gone old school and called it in. Instead he assumed that the speakeasy-inspired eatery would be as empty as it seemed to be every day when he went past on his way home from work.
A colossal miscalculation. The hostess continued directing the waiting patrons to the bar, but space was limited. The crowd overflowed from the bar into the lobby. If Bryce arrived on time, they’d get a table about twenty minutes after their date started.
As if dumping coffee on him hadn’t been enough, Jesse apparently needed to make a second rotten impression. He debated texting Bryce to meet him somewhere else. The only problem was he didn’t know if any other restaurant in the area was less crowded.
Curse him for living in a trendy neighborhood. And damn his nerves for making him jittery. People dealt with the unexpected on dates all the time. His first date with his last boyfriend included a taxi ride stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic and that had… been a disaster in the end. Okay, he needed to stop comparing his current date to his past love life.
Someone jostled Jesse from behind as they pushed their way to the crowded bar. Too many people in too small a space. Jesse took another swig of his beer, and got jostled a second time.
Enough was enough.
Jesse grabbed his phone. It brightened with a notification before he could unlock it. Bryce had texted to say he’d arrived. Glancing up from his phone, Jesse scanned the crowd near the door and spotted Bryce. He waved, hoping the odds were in his favor.
Despite the low lighting and full lobby and bar, Bryce nodded his head in acknowledgement of Jesse’s wave and smiled. Jesse’s breath caught in his throat. Of course, Bryce ought to be happy to see him if the date stood a chance of going well. After a few weeks of making less-than-enthusiastic introductions, Jesse relished the joy of someone wanting to be with him. Somehow that made him miss home.
Bryce wore a dark green shirt and dark slacks, fitting in with the crowd a little better than Jesse did in a sweater. He had more gel in his hair, or his work had frustrated him so much that he raked his hand through it enough to make it stand up more than it had that morning. Either way, he was sexier, a little out of control, and as handsome at their second meeting as he had been the first time.
“Sorry I’m late,” Bryce said.
It wasn’t even two minutes past the hour. Jesse raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. “You’re on time. We’re not going to get a table for a while.”
Bryce nodded at the bar, and Jesse followed him through the mess of people. After flagging down a bartender, Bryce ordered a whiskey, neat. “Nothing but paperwork today. It’s a hard liquor kind of night.”
“What kind of work?” Jesse asked.
“Research,” Bryce replied. “What about you?”
A man pushed his way between Jesse and Bryce just as Bryce was getting his drink. With a frustrated sigh, Jesse stepped around the rude man. “I guess southern hospitality is a myth.”
“Doesn’t extend to chic restaurants on crowded nights.” Bryce took his drink from the bar and cupped Jesse’s elbow with his other hand. With a nod and a gentle nudge, he guided Jesse a few steps away.
The busy bar space necessitated they stand close together, or someone might force their way between them. Having Bryce close changed Jesse’s overworked nerves from anxious to excited. Bryce had beautiful brown eyes. Not a hint of amber, just deep, deep brown. The bar’s dim lighting only made his black hair darker. Jesse was caught up in the shape of his mouth, too, and the slope of his nose. When Bryce smiled, he favored his right side.
“I take it you’re not from around here?” Bryce asked.
Jesse hoped that was the first attempt at conversation because he’d been too caught up in memorizing details. “What gave me away?”
“Other than that crack about southern hospitality? That beer.” Bryce glanced at the beer in Jesse’s hand like he suspected it of foul play. “You’re inSt. Louis, home of Anheuser-Bush and at least two dozen breweries, plenty of microbreweries, and you’re drinking aKillian’s?”
“That would explain the look the bartender gave me when I ordered it,” Jesse said. “I just moved here.”
“From where?”
“Manhattan, though I was in Washington D.C. before that, and grew up about an hour from Boston.”
Bryce smiled and shook his head. “I suppose I can forgive you for the choice then. We’ll have to get you a real education on beer some time.”
Which implied Bryce wanted to meet up again. Good. Jesse was really hoping this wouldn’t be a one-and-done date. “You a local?”
“Feels like it. Been here close to a decade. Grew up in Murfreesboro,” Bryce replied.
“Where’s that?”
“Tennessee.” A mischievous gleam brightened Bryce’s eyes. “Do you need me to point it out on a map for you, East Coast?”
