Page 38 of Checking Out the Librarian

Connor nudged the plate closer, and Jonathan touched a finger to his lips. “Thank you, this is perfect.”

He wasn’t supposed to use that word, but it was presumably acceptable when talking about coffee and scones chosen by someone else. He wasn’t setting an unachievable standard; he was thanking Connor for being thoughtful.

And Connor clearly liked to be thanked. His cheeks were a different type of pink now, not the sudden bright flush caused by having tripped at their greeting, but a softer color that complemented his slightly parted lips and deep, steady gaze.

They divided both scones, a cheddar dill and a cherry vanilla, because that made a balanced meal with protein and fruit, according to Connor.

And they talked. And talked. It wasn’t even five pm so they couldn’t just go fuck.

“How long have you lived here?” Connor asked.

“I finished my master’s degree in January and moved here in February.” Jonathan lifted his cold brew to his mouth and paused with it in front of his lips to watch Connor watching his mouth. He was so awkwardly attractive that Jonathan wanted to mess with him and make that flush on his cheeks spread across the places he already knew it would. “You?”

“What?” The way Connor’s voice rose on the word made him sound dazed.

“When did you move here?”

“Oh.” Connor took a deep breath and reached down to pet his dog, which seemed to cohere his thoughts. “I grew up in Eastern Oregon and played baseball here for the university. I lived at home during the first part of Covid, which motivated me to get a job back here.”

“You teach second grade?”

“Yep. At a small private school, because I don’t have a teaching cert yet, but I’m working on that. I don’t think I’ll leave my school, but the credential will give me the flexibility to go to the public system if I want.”

This Connor, the one with a plan and coherent sentence structure, reminded Jonathan of the man who had so smoothly ordered him a cocktail with only a gesture and a head tilt, not so much the guy who said ‘what’ and couldn’t type. He found the contrast intriguing.

“Where did you move here from?” Connor asked him. The table vibrated, and Jonathan assumed Ribby was shifting around beneath it.

“New York.” People who wanted to get to know each other shared more than the bare minimum. Connor had done that, so Jonathan pushed himself, too. “But I’m originally from Southern California. Outside of LA.”

Connor continued to look at him. “Why here then? Why not go back to California?”

“This was where I landed a job offer after grad school.”

“A library science degree?”

“Yes.” He was impressed that Connor knew the term and then felt a twinge of guilt for misjudging him. The man was himself getting an advanced degree. Jonathan shouldn’t assume from appearances that he was stereotypical dumb jock.

“I had a lot of free time during the pandemic and started taking online classes, and when it ended, I decided to stop skating and go to school in person. I wanted to get far away, and the library and information science program in New York admitted me.”

He spread his hands. No amount of familiarity or mutual sharing would make him add the reasons he wanted to be far, far away from his mother, his father, and his former coach. “That’s it.”

“Skating?” Connor tilted his head curiously. “Like, ice skating?”

“Exactly like that.”

Connor’s lips parted and he looked dazzled. “Wow.”

Jonathan braced himself for a joke. There was always a joke.

“Will you…” Connor looked down at the table.

Jonathan did not preempt him with one of his own quips. That would hurt too much.

“Can we go together sometime? I keep driving past the rink over by the Events Center, and I kind of want to try it, because I’ve never skated.”

And that was not a joke. That was, in fact, completely new. Completely never had happened to Jonathan before. He’d taught a lot of people, all of them children or teens, a few of them good enough to continue with better coaches, but not one, not even a fraction of one, had been a six-foot plus fully adult man that he’d fucked.

“It’d be good for my glutes, right? I could be a hybrid, a baseball and hockey butt in one amazing killer package.” Connor kept his chin tilted toward his chest but glanced at Jonathan through those golden eyelashes that did not obscure the flirty sparkle.