Page 7 of Built to Last

Gil shot a nasty look my way, but it didn’t have the bite it usually did. Probably because Marco laughed.

“That’s exactly the sort of thing I asked to meet up with Kyle to talk about,” Marco said. “Well, that and maybe some other things.” He sent me a look that was way too open for my comfort.

Gilbert noticed. Noticed and narrowed his eyes at me with what I could only describe as betrayal.

“I’m here to answer any questions you might have,” Gilbert said, helping himself to a seat at the table I’d picked out.

“That’s great,” Marco said. “And a fabulous opportunity for us to get to know each other, too.”

My gut didn’t like that. As much as I was squirrely about the idea of accidentally ending up on a date with pretty, charming Marco, I liked the idea of him and Gilbert getting friendly even less. I’d dug the hole for myself, though. The only thing I could do was sit in it and hope no one noticed how intense the tension around our table was.

CHAPTER 3

Gilbert

“Vanilla latte with a dash of cocoa powder!”

“Vanilla latte with a dash of cocoa powder!”

“Va-a-anilla latte with a dash of—everybody now—cocoa powder!”

I usually grinned, or at least smirked and shook my head at Diccon, Brian, and Hannah’s silly way of calling out customer orders during the morning shift, but that particular Monday morning, I was wound so tight that if I heard one more repetitive, sing-song coffee order I might just march out of the office and lock the front door to keep any more customers from coming in.

The weekend after the Barracudas versus Walruses game had been particularly annoying. The game itself had been great. It was always awesome when we won, especially when we won against Kyle’s team. It was afterwards, at the bar, when things had started to go south.

Marco Andreotti. Who the hell did the man think he was anyhow with his bright-eyed smile and boundless enthusiasm for, what, olives? Really, his enthusiasm had been for Kyle, who he’d talked to all night as they shared an order of curly fries to go with their beers. It had been gross, way over the top, and super obvious.

Okay, so I was technically at that table, too, drinking beer and sharing the curly fries. And Marco had chatted with me about Common Grounds and the neighborhood where our businesses would soon be adjacent and potentially complementary to each other. And he was personable and fun. And cute.

And so clearly into Kyle that it made me want to⁠—

What? What did it make me want to do? I had no claim on Kyle. We weren’t even friends anymore. Kyle could date whoever he wanted, if he was brave enough to openly date anyone at all.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? As far as I knew, Kyle still wasn’t out, so regardless of how cute and gorgeous and friendly Marco was, that little puppy was barking at the wrong fence if he thought he could coax Kyle into openly dating him.

But what if he could? What if Marco Andreotti was the one who could draw Kyle out of the closet? What if he could do it in a way I never could?

“Don’t go there,” I muttered to myself, pushing my chair back from my desk and getting up.

I couldn’t sit still. I told myself it was because Casey was coming to install the sound equipment in less than an hour. The sound equipment was important to Common Grounds’ growth. That’s what was really worrying me. That’s why I hadn’t slept well all weekend and why I’d had a restless knot in my gut since the baseball game.

I paced around my desk and headed for the office door.

“You got someplace to be?” Sam asked from his desk, glancing curiously over his shoulder at me.

“Sound system delivery,” I mumbled, not wanting to get into it with my older brother. He’d been watching me mope around the big old house we shared all weekend. If it wasn’t for Brian distracting him with activities that I definitely didn’t want to know about, I’m sure he would have said something to me about my mood.

That mood didn’t improve at all when I stepped out into the café only to find none other than Marco Andreotti standing at the counter, talking to Diccon with that trademark sparkly smile of his.

“There he is,” Diccon said as soon as he spotted me. “Hey, Gilbert. This guy says he’s moving into the shop next door when it’s finished, and he’s brought cheese!”

I would have found my brother’s giddiness over cheese funny if anyone else had brought it.

“We’ve met,” I said, forcing myself to greet Marco with an outstretched hand and something resembling a smile.

And dammit, as soon as Marco left the counter to meet me, his puppy dog sweetness on full display, my smile turned genuine.

“Good to see you again,” he said, his handshake firmer than I’d expected.