August 2026 Drake - Part 7

 DRAKE - Part 7

Prompt: July 4th activities (Hiking and Picnicking)

It felt strange having the day off, but when one of my coworkers asked if they could work my shift for the holiday pay, I was more than happy to give it up. Now I had the day free and a boyfriend who wanted to spend the day with me. Win-win.

I packed my saddlebags and drove across the complex to Grant’s apartment and ogled him as I slowed to a stop in front of him. The mid-morning sun was shining behind him; the light a halo around his head and shoulders. He wore khaki slacks with a tight black tee that showed off his trim figure, and he held a classic leather vest. His broad grin and small bounce of enthusiasm as I handed him a helmet made me smile.

Grant slipped on the jacket, then grabbed the helmet and put it on. “Are these new helmets?”

“Yeah,” I replied softly, knowing he’d hear me through the new Bluetooth system.

“Hell, yeah.” Grant slapped my shoulder, then slid onto the bike behind me and made himself comfortable. Of course, him snuggling up against my back woke my dick, and I made a few adjustments of my own. “These are amazing. I love that we can talk on the trip, and I won’t have to yell so you can hear me.”

“That’s the plan.” I patted and rubbed his leg. “You ready to ride?”

“Yes! Let’s go.” Grant held onto my waist as I pulled away from the curb and drove out of the apartment complex.

The day was picture-perfect: warm, sunny, and not a cloud in sight. Even though we could easily communicate, we still rode in silence for the first quarter hour or so, just enjoying the scenery of a town on holiday. There were hundreds of American flags blowing in the breeze, and plenty of homes were decorated in a wealth of red, white, and blue.

As we neared town, we chatted amicably about the antique and classic cars we’d passed, and how everyone seemed in good spirits. It was a day to put aside politics and come together to celebrate our great nation. Realistically, I knew that was a hard sell, but with a pretty man riding pillion and holding on tight, I was pushing those kinds of thoughts to the very back of my mind.

I turned off the main road and headed for the mountains. There was a trail I wanted to take Grant hiking on that ended in a clearing with a breathtaking view. The plan was a picnic and, hopefully, maybe, sneaking in a little playtime if my beau was willing. Some guys balked at outdoor sex, but I loved the rush of it.

There were a few cars parked in the lot, but I wasn’t worried. The place I’d found was off the beaten track, and in all the times I’d come here, I’d never been bothered.

“This is nice,” Grant said, after removing his helmet and peering around the gravel lot, taking in the neatly fenced picnic areas and visitor information tucked under a wooden overhang.

“My favorite place. When I need to get away and just…”

“Unplug from the world?” Grant’s gaze softened. He stepped close enough to put a hand on my arm and gently squeeze.

I shrugged. “Yeah. Some days Denver can be a downright bitch. All it takes is one massive fender bender or apartment fire to throw the whole day into chaos. I’m good under pressure, but afterwards I need to unwind. This place is where I usually end up.”

“Just here?” Grant glanced around again. “Or…?”

“Definitely ‘or,’” I answered with a broad smile. I unlatched the saddle bags and pulled out the cold bags I’d packed inside along with a flattened backpack. “Just give me a sec to get this situated. You can check out the map if you want. Use the… Biffy.”

Grant laughed. “That right there. Such an outsider. You have to have more confidence.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just go use the damn Porta-John, then I’ll go, and then we can get with the hiking and picnicking.”

Grant snapped off a well-intentioned salute and marched toward the portable toilets. I snickered and shook my head before packing the cold bags into the backpack and slinging it on. I darted into an open stall and used the urinal. We exited at the same time, rubbing on hand sanitizer and grinning.

“Ready?” I held out a hand, and Grant took hold.

“Ready. I’m excited for this. It’s been a long time since I went hiking,” he said as we started on the upward path.

I was, too, for other reasons. “Gyms are okay, but I’ve always loved being outside. I was one of those kids who—during the summer—never went home until the sun was on its way down. My brother and I were always coming up with weird games and getting our friends to play them.”

“What kind of games?”

I thought for a moment, remembering back to those Jersey summers. My parents always complained about the weather, but my siblings and I ‌didn’t care. Talk about freedom. Those were the days of carefree living. “We lived in this community that had a pool, tennis and basketball courts; a small baseball field. Kind of like the one we live in, but with mostly single-family homes. Everybody lived on a postage stamp lot. The roads were kinda dangerous because we all lived on top of each other and everybody parked on the street, so we went to the pocket playground, or the pool, or the courts.”

“I know the kind of place you mean. There are a few over in Erie that I’ve sold, but I don’t really like selling those. I raised my fee on them, so most people don’t book me anymore.”

“Why don’t you like selling them?” I peered over at Grant curiously. “They’re great places for families. Ah!”

“Sorry, I’m not one for kids. Full disclosure,” Grant lowered his head and his voice, “I don’t want any. If that’s going to be a problem, then maybe—”

“Hold up.” I pulled him to a stop. “Personally, I don’t know where I stand on future kids, and I’m not ready to make that call. But I hear what you’re saying, and all I can tell you is right now they aren’t in the cards. I mean, look at me. I’m a biker in a motorcycle club. Besides, I don’t even have a husband yet.”

The way I’d ended with a teasing lilt and sly wink brought a smile back to Grant’s face. I cupped his jaw. “There’s one other thing I want to say to you. This is something I learned, and it’s worth repeating: never say never. Our lives can change so fast. If we were together and my sister had a kid and, God forbid, died and left me with custody, I would love my niece or nephew so hard. Would you leave me just because of them?”

Grant pressed his cheek into my palm. “I get it, and…” He took a deep breath in through his nose and blew it out. “You’re right. I can only say how I feel now. Who knows what the future holds?”

“Exactly.” I leaned in and kissed him until wolf-whistles broke us apart.

July 2026 Drake - Part 6

DRAKE: Part 6 

Prompt: Two strangers keep crossing paths at every Pride Month event in the city — finally, one of them decides to say something. Grant: I'll be there, but… I held my breath. But what? Those three little blinking dots taunted me. It could be seconds, minutes, even hours sometimes before I'd get an answer if Grant got pulled away. Grant: The office is a sponsor, so I have to be at our booth. With my coworkers. I chuckled at the grimacing emoji with its little tongue sticking out. Aren't you the boss? Delegate! Grant: Face of the business, baby. I've got to be there. A thrill of excitement went through me as I read the endearment. Baby. I'd never been anybody's baby except Mom's. Grant hadn't meant it the way he'd written it, though. Still, I could hear the inflection in the statement, and wished. I'd been falling for Grant since the day we met in the return line. I understood why we were taking it slow, or at least I thought it had to do with the fact that we were both coming off relationships. Mine had been short-lived anyway, with a doctor who wanted to date the big bad biker. Too bad I hadn't been willing to “clean up” enough for Dr. McHottie, or whatever the ladies at work were calling him nowadays. God, how did I keep picking the wrong guys? Grant was different, though. He knew the club, knew my brothers, knew motorcycles even. He didn’t look at me with only one thought in mind: banging the biker. I drummed on my lips, covering the smile that had formed there. Seriously, I could get behind—or in front of—banging the realtor. I didn’t really have a preference, though Grant gave off top vibes. Damn, we still didn’t really know each other, and that had to change. It was Pride. A time to take chances. Time to grab the man I wanted and take him to bed. Mine? Grant’s? A hotel…? Eh, maybe not a hotel. Definitely not at the club. Grant was too classy for that. For Grant, I might even try to clean up my act, something I’d never bothered to do for anyone else. Grant: So you’re going? I think so. Some of my brothers and their partners will be there. I was invited along. Grant: Excellent. I won’t have to stay at my table the whole time, just the first couple of hours. If you’re there, we can walk the festival afterwards. Sound good? Yeah. See you later. Grant sent back a thumbs-up emoji, and that was that. We had another meet-up. A pseudo-date, but I’d take it. *** The Brawly PD had set aside a row near the front for us to park. It let the officers and the townspeople check out our bikes, but it was cool since they’d keep an eye on our rides. Indians weren’t that common, and people liked to look; I didn’t mind as long as they didn’t touch. I locked my bike down and joined my club brothers and their partners. “Is there a plan?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair, fluffing it up after having it smushed under my helmet. “Nah,” Sunshine said, taking the hands of Orion and Marcus. “I think Bark and Brews has a table and Master Axe has an axe-throwing setup, so make sure you stop by those. Otherwise, enjoy yourself. Happy Pride.” He dragged his two partners off, leaving the rest of them staring after him. “It’s good to see him out and about,” Quinn said, tucking his hands into his back pockets. He peered around, his gaze catching on the sleek Corvettes with their hoods propped open. “I’m gonna go check out those sweet rides. See if I can find someone to ride later…” He winked at Drake before wandering off, not even noticing how the ladies he passed paused and looked back to watch him go. That left me with Ryan, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, especially when he turned slowly to me, shoved his fingers in his back pockets, and drawled, “So…” “So…?” I mimicked his posture, then assumed I looked stupid and crossed my arms instead. “What?” “So… is your boy here?” This time, I stared at him. “Boy? You know he’s older than me.” “So you’re not the dominant partner in your relationship?” “Oh, my God.” I slapped my hands to my face and dragged them down as I groaned. “Look, Ryan. I love you, but you need to stop talking now.” “Why?” Our club VP looked perplexed. Did he really not get how inappropriate his question was? Not everyone was kinky. Not everyone was a strict top or bottom. Not everybody had been having sex for Christ's sake. “Doc, man, look. I’m busting your balls. You don’t have to tell me anything except if he’s done something bad to you. Then you know your brothers will have your back.” Ryan punched his palm, adding emphasis. “I know that. And I’ve got yours, but Grant and I… It’s not like that.” Ryan clapped my shoulder and gave me a shove toward the fairgrounds, away from our bikes and the crowd they were already drawing. We walked shoulder to shoulder for a minute in silence, both of us peering around at the tables, booths, and concessions lining the entrance before he leaned closer, jerking his chin to the right. “There.” I turned, immediately seeing the realty sign, the sky-blue tablecloth, and the man I’d been lusting after for the last six months. Grant was engaged in conversation with a young gay couple—or so I assumed, though I knew I shouldn’t. One man, the larger of the two, wore an empty baby carrier on his back, while the shorter partner had the baby in his arms. As Ryan herded me toward Grant and his tent, the baby popped up, peeking over the caregiver’s shoulder, and gave me a toothless grin with that full-body wiggle babies like to do, forcing her caregiver to grab hold. “Dehlia, what are you doing, sweet thing?” the one holding her gently scolded, all coo and concern. With her gaze riveted on me, he glanced over his shoulder. Spotting me, his eyes widened. Instead of saying anything, I avoided contact with the guy and just smiled sweetly, wiggling my fingers at the tiny girl, who bounced with happiness. I caught Grant’s eye and winked, but took a right turn and kept on walking, not wanting to bother him while he was talking shop. He tried to wave me over, and Ryan bumped me to go, but I shook my head and continued on. “You’re not going over?” Ryan asked. “Nah. He’s busy. I’ll catch up with him later.” After another minute of Ryan side-eyeing me and his frown growing deeper, I sighed. “Are you seriously so desperate to get laid that you need to live vicariously through me?” “Ha!” Ryan slapped my back, throwing me off balance. “Dude. No, man, I’m just surprised. I thought—” I held up a hand to cut him off. “Stop right there.” Pausing our stroll, I turned to face him. “I really like him, so I don’t want to fuck this up. I tried a couple of times to…” My cheeks heated with embarrassment because who the fuck gets hung up on a guy and forgoes sex for half a year? Ryan’s gaze softened. He really was a good guy underneath that bad-ass exterior. “To what?” A sharp whistle drew our attention. I twisted to see Grant walking past with another of his co-workers, both of them in matching sky-blue polos. He winked at me, cocky grin and all, and then kept on going, heading toward the food trucks. Ryan chuckled and rubbed his hands together almost menacingly. “Me thinks there’re games afoot.”

June 2026 - Drake Part 5

 Drake - Part 5

Photo by Aida Sam on Unsplash

Date Prompt: First dates should be things like paintball, axe throwing, or the gun range to determine the danger level you’re in when you fuck up and piss him off.

Grant and I continued to meet for random—and not so random—cups of coffee, meals, and dessert throughout the rest of April. May’s weather was better for riding, but storms liked to pop up, so I made sure I tucked my poncho and a spare into my saddlebags. And an umbrella. And every time it rained, I thought of him crossing the street.

Our discussions revolved around family, friends, and work, while steering clear of my time in the service and most things regarding the club. I noticed Grant also stayed mum on his commercial dealings. I’d casually asked once about his cancelled dinner, the one I capitalized on with our chance meeting in the rain. Grant had been quick to shut down the conversation, so I figured either it had gone nowhere and he was mad, or it was super-secret hush-hush. I knew about those kinds of things as well.

The Vengeful Kings rode out twice in May on Veteran Rides, but I could only make one of them with my work schedule. There’d been some club meetings about standard business, dues, and potential new members, and a few more about the “other” kind. I tried to stay out of those, but sometimes my presence was required.

After one such stressful “required” ride on club business, I needed to decompress. Being in the clubhouse, around my brothers, wasn't relaxing—most of them thought drinking away their problems solved everything. I needed something else… or someone else.

Sitting on the always surprisingly comfortable couch at the clubhouse, I flipped my phone from hand to hand and debated texting Grant. It had been a couple of days since I'd last seen him, a fleeting cup of coffee in between appointments for him. I suspected he'd be busy. Spring, he’d said, was a special kind of hell for realtors.

Still, he was the person I wanted to hang with more than anyone at that moment, so I gave in and sent him a quick text.

Hey.

I tried to think of something witty to add, but came up with less than nothing. Thankfully, Grant saved me from myself.

Grant: Hey, yourself. Day off? You bored?

He'd added a cute little eye-roll emoji that made me smile.

Yes and yes. You free?

Grant: Open house, but done in an hour. Come keep me company? I have free coffee!

Now that sounded like a solid plan to get me outta here.

Sure, send me the addy.

I was up and moving, and my phone binged with the address before I even hit send.

“Who lit a fire under your ass, Doc?” Alden drawled as I passed him. He swiveled on his barstool, his eyes holding me in place.

“Booty call?” Ryan asked loudly, earning a raucous round of laughter.

“Our sweet Doc?” Silver parried. “Doubt it.”

I paused at the door, looked back at Silver, and then panned the room, halfway between humored and annoyed with my brothers. Did they think I was celibate or something? What right did they have to ask, anyway? “And if I was, what business is it of yours?”

Silver held up his hands. “Well then, good for you. No disrespect intended.”

I glared around the room and huffed. “Anyone else wanna stick their nose into my business?”

Alden slammed his hand on the bar top. “Drake! My office. Now.” He stood and crossed the room. Ryan, our VP, followed him.

My brothers snickered as I passed through the room, but nobody moved to back me up. Fuckers. Why was I here again? Oh yeah, I didn’t have a home to go back to since my folks sold the house while I was overseas and put all my shit into storage while they motor-homed their way from sea to shining sea.

I paused halfway down the hall, out of sight of ‌Alden, Ryan, and the rest of my club brothers, and took a deep breath. My hands shook, and everything felt tight. I tried to shake off the jitters and rolled my head around to loosen my neck muscles, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, kid,” Ryan called from the doorway. “You know Prez is more bark than bite.”

Reluctantly, I shuffled through the door, my feet—and Prez’s sharp gaze—locking me down only a few steps inside.

“Sit,” Alden ordered, leaning back in his office chair and kicking his feet up onto the edge of his desk. He peered at me while I sat, unable to make eye contact. Instead, I keep my focus on his chin, like I used to in the service.

After a minute of silence, he snorted. “Chill, kid. I ain’t gonna kill you for back-talking your elders.” I lifted my gaze and took in his wry grin, and finally let myself relax. He was amused at my expense, not that I could do anything about it. “Good,” he drawled, then dropped his feet to the floor and rested his forearms on his desk, his jaw hardening and expression stern.

“Are you happy here, Doc? With your job, your place, the club? Cause if not—”

“No!” I barely kept myself from shouting as I gripped the edge of the desk and lifted a few inches off the chair. Ryan gripped my shoulder, holding me in place. “No. I’m… fine.” I fell back onto the seat, glanced away, then returned my gaze to him with regret, which I’m sure was showing on my face. “You know I don’t like the club’s side business, but I’m not going to stop you or turn you in. I’m just nervous.” I pushed my fingers into my hair and cursed. “Fuck, Prez, I made it back—alive. I wanna keep it that way, and keep you all alive, too. Am I making sense here?”

Alden grinned. “You are, and I’m thankful. Grateful, even. It’s good to have someone with your training to take care of us, but I hear what you’re saying. I see how stressed you get on those rides, but you need to understand that those I ask you to come on are because I need you there. They’re the dicey ones that might go sideways, and you’ve got the training that might come in handy. That’s the reason you’re there, but also the reason why I always have you hang back while I make the exchange.”

“I know,” I said, nodding, “and I appreciate it, but it’s still stressful, and I’m not a drinker. I can’t drown out the adrenaline with a beer.”

“So you need a fuck then.”

I snorted and shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I was right,” Ryan crowed. “It is a booty call.”

I side-eyed our VP and shrugged again. “Maybe. It’s casual, and I like him, but we haven’t even kissed, so…”

“Grant, yeah?” Alden asked.

“Yeah.” I grinned. Couldn’t really stop myself whenever I thought of the sexy realtor. “How’d you know?”

“Couple of the guys have seen the two of you together. We thought maybe you were thinking of moving, but since you didn’t say you were… assumptions happened.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but did you say you haven’t even kissed? That’s the worst kinda hook-up.”

“I agree,” I said, leaning back in the chair, “but we haven’t done that either.”

“Why not?” Ryan perched on the edge of Alden’s desk, peering down at me.

I shrugged. “Maybe because we haven’t even gone on a real date yet. We’ve had coffee, a couple of rushed lunches, and one ‘hey, we’re both here, so let’s eat together’ dinner.”

“But you’re going to meet him now… why can’t this be a date?”

What the actual fuck? This conversation was… surreal. Never in a million years did I think I’d be discussing my love life with my Prez and VP, even if Alden and some of my other brothers were in committed relationships now.

“He’s coming off a job, an open house. I’m going to keep him company, and then, I don’t know…”

“You need to take him on a date.” Ryan stabbed a finger into his thigh to make his point. “And since it’s a first date, you gotta do things like paintball, axe throwing, or the gun range to determine the danger level you’re in when you fuck up and piss him off.”

“And vice-versa,” Alden chipped in. “Take him to Master Axe. Food’s good there, and the beer selection is stellar. Plus, the manager will give you a discount if you’re wearing your cut.”

“Really? Why?” But then I held up my hand. “Don’t answer that.” As far as I knew, we didn’t have any deals with the place, but we were laundering money through some other businesses, and I really didn’t want to get involved in the knowing.

“Smart boy,” Alden grinned. “Go on, get outta here. Look dejected on the way out, so the guys think I was mean.”

I couldn’t help chuckling at that as I left, and schooled my features into an angry scowl as I stomped through the clubhouse like I had a storm cloud over my head. My bike roared to life and, with a plan forming in the back of my mind, I rode away.

May 2026: Drake - Part 4

Another day closer to summer... but first we have to get through the rainy spring days and the yellow-green haze of oak pollen. Bleech! This month's addition is about one of those cold, rainy nights of an unexpected storm.

DRAKE...

... several months have now passed since Drake and Grant first met.

Prompt: April Showers — A sudden downpour traps two strangers under the same café awning.

After parting ways with Grant, life went back to its normal, boring self. I worked a lot; I rode a lot; I drank a little. Some of my brothers were hard-core drinkers, but I’d never been. Even when I got out, I couldn’t get lost in the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol let the depression in along with the anger, and since I liked my job, getting arrested for doing dumb shit while intoxicated wasn’t high on my list.

Grant had my number, and I had his, but I’d left the ball in his court. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, but work was keeping me on my toes. Any time I wasn’t working, the club took its share. Winter’s chill and a couple of hard snowfalls meant club business was slow, which I preferred, mostly for my brothers’ safety. I’d never say anything to Riggs or Ryan—our Prez and VP respectfully—but their “side business” fucking scared me. Running guns was not for the faint of heart, and I for damn sure liked mine right where it was.

Occasionally, I rode through Indio and stopped at The Cozy Cup for coffee and my usual bear claw and think about Grant, but I never saw him again until one mid-April afternoon. The day started with sunny skies, but by the time I was heading home from work, angry dark-gray clouds had blown in on a stiff breeze, and it was fixing to snow or rain something fierce. I was betting on rain with the warmer temperatures, but I’d already learned that thinking I could predict Colorado weather was a losing endeavor.

True to form, the skies opened in a torrential downpour when I was still about ten minutes out from home. I could ride in the rain, but storms like this affected everyone’s vision, and I didn’t want to be a statistic because I’d foolishly thought I knew best. I pulled to the side of the road and, spotting a large awning spanning a cafe that had sidewalk dining in the summer but was currently bare of its usual tables and chairs.

I walked my bike beneath its cover, popped my visor, and was brushing the rain off my jacket when I heard my name.

“Drake?”

Grant had a steel grip on his umbrella, a large black one that looked like it wanted to take him for a ride, as he hustled across the street and joined me under the striped awning. His smile was broad and bright, and my own came out to play.

“Fancy meeting you here?” I teased as I removed my helmet and propped it on the seat of my bike. I opened my saddlebag, pulled out a towel, and began wiping my helmet, seat, and motorcycle dry.

Grant carefully closed his umbrella, locked it down with the velcro strap, and peered past me into the restaurant window before meeting my gaze. “Indeed. I was supposed to meet a prospective customer for an early dinner, but he canceled at the last minute.” He huffed as he glanced at the door, and I saw his jaw working, his shoulders slumping, his mouth dip into a frown. Saw the way he swallowed, then straightened his shoulders as if the failure of meeting this person didn’t matter, though I suspected it might have. I also saw the way the light from the neon sign behind me reflected in his eyes. “Would you… Would you like to join me instead?”

Feeling like Grant needed the win, and I was all about helping out a friend, especially if there was food attached, I readily agreed. “I’m in. You think my bike is okay here?”

He shrugged. “Let’s ask.” He waited for me to stow my towel and pocket my key. I gestured for him to go first and followed, but like the first time we met, I jumped ahead to open the door for him.

“Such a gentleman,” he murmured as he passed, so close his arm brushed my chest, and I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

Grant smelled good. Like I wanted to stick my face in his neck and breathe him in good. My cock agreed, but I told it to behave. Whether my little head would listen was another story.

The hostess seated us by the window where we could look out and see my baby. My very expensive baby.

“Seems I have some competition.”

“Yup,” I chuckled, opening my menu, but not reading it yet. I peeked at him over the top edge. “You know anything about motorcycles?”

“Indian Chief Anniversary edition with seating for two. All-weather vinyl saddlebags, good for a couple of days' worth of clothes, a small laptop, or a six-pack of your favorite beverage, maybe a blanket to sit on. I like the matching red helmet and that you wear it. Some of your brothers ride without… I’m not a fan of that.” Grant’s moue of disapproval pinged my heart’s safety feature.

“Yeah, well, I think a couple of them have death-wishes, so there’s that.”

“Riggs is a smart guy, but why take chances? Couldn’t he order everyone to wear one?”

“Riggs knows when to pick his battles,” I said with one-hundred percent confidence. How? Because I’d already had that conversation with him after XXX took a spill, and I was one of the responding EMTs. Seeing your brother bleeding on the side of the road wasn’t something I ever wanted to see again. I probably would, though. It was just a matter of time.

I looked down at the menu, Grant’s displeasure landing like a rock on my chest. The subject needed to change… fast. “What’s good here? I’ve never been.”

“Really?” Grant laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Mario’s has been a staple in this town forever.”

Closing and tucking the menu under the lip of my bread plate, I said, “Order for me. No allergies. I like it all except calamari. Weirdlly, I like it pickled but not fried.”

“Pickled?” he gasped. “I’ve never… You know what? I don’t want to know.” Grant placed his menu on top of mine. “My favorites are the chicken Alfredo and the shrimp scampi over linguini.”

“Sounds good.” I leaned back in the chair and watched him fiddle with his silverware. He hadn’t been nervous the first time we’d met, but he was giving off some serious anxiety-ridden vibes now. I leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

Grant shook his head, his denial nearly spilling out, but the server, dropping off bread, seasoned dipping oil, and ready to take our orders, interrupted. Instead, he reeled off the meal choices, and once the server left, he took a small roll and dismantled it with regimental precision.

“Grant?” I was going to ask again what was wrong, but what spilled out was, “How come you never called me? Or texted?”

“Me?” He gaped, then huffed. “What about you? You had my number.”

I chose a roll, broke off a piece, and popped it into my mouth, chewed and swallowed to give myself a moment. “True. I could have, but let’s take a sec to look at the situation. Suit and tie, club cut. Realtor, nurse. I’m not Mom’s first choice.”

He scoffed. “My mother’s my secretary. She loves me, supports me; accepts me for who I am and whomever I choose to love. But you’re right. I should have reached out, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

With his eyes locked on me, I nodded and apologized as well. “Me, too. I’m prone to bad cases of self-flagellation. My parents were great when I was a kid, but Mom wanted the straight-A student, and Dad wanted the sports enthusiast. It was a lot of push-and-pull and never quite living up to either of their aspirations, so eventually they both started ignoring me in favor of my younger siblings. My sister is currently getting her MBA, and my brother is playing ball in the minor leagues. I’m sure they all love me, but none of them understands my choices: life, love, or career.”

“They don’t respect that you enlisted and became a nurse?” Grant seemed horrified that anyone would dare.

I shrugged. “They are fine with the nurse part. Mom’s a veterinarian. It was not going to college and enlisting that— I don’t think scared is the right word, but maybe the fact that I didn’t follow through on what they wanted for me drove a wedge between us. We talk around the holidays, and I try to get to my brother’s games when he plays out this way. Not that either is close—Albuquerque or Salt Lake City—so I have to schedule a couple of days off from work to go.”

Grant bobbed his head. “Not a lot of baseball in Colorado. We have a couple of Pioneer teams, but pretty much it’s football, basketball, and hockey.”

“You a fan?” I asked, relaxing into my chair and nibbling on the roll when the server arrived with our drinks.

“Meh.” Grant wobbled his head. “I like going to the occasional game, and I know the big players, so I can make conversation with clients, but I’m no die-hard.”

“Yeah, same for me. My brothers set the channel to the games in the clubhouse, but only a couple really watch.”

We talked about teams we’d seen and stadiums we’d been to until our meals arrived, then it was a few minutes of exchanging food and digging in. The chicken melted on my tongue, and the scampi was damn perfect.

“Mmm. Grant, this is so good. Thanks again for the invite.”

“My pleasure,” Grant said with a smile. “Can we consider this our first date?”

“First…?” Yeah, there was no keeping the grin off my face. “I’d like that.”