Tierney worked up to meeting his eyes again, but Dalton was glancing around the garage, chest lifting in a quick breath. “Would it be better if we just stopped hanging out?”
No. “Is that what you want?”
Dalton dipped his chin, voice dropping with it. “Honestly, no, but if that’s better for you of course—”
“I don’t want to either. I mean, I have some people set up to help me out, you know, a support network, and my first appointment with the therapist is tomorrow. As long as I can keep things in perspective, we can continue this.” Tierney gestured back and forth between them, illustrating the connection like a dork, in case it wasn’t fucking obvious enough. “Our, um, friendship.”
Now Dalton was smiling again, just a little. That and looking at Tierney through his lashes. “All of it? Even the benefits?”
Tierney had to swallow before repeating his earlier question. “Is that what you want?”
“Yeah.”
Thank fuck. “Me too,” he said in a rush.
“But we have to be careful. If at any time you begin to feel like—”
Grabbing Dalton’s hand shut him up pretty fast. “I’ll talk to you, I promise.”
Apparently, that was enough discussion about it. Dalton simply nodded, smiling.
Tierney very nearly leaned in for a quick kiss, to seal the deal, but then he remembered they were just friends. Who held hands. And kissed on occasion. But now that he’d reminded himself, he couldn’t go ahead and do it. Too awkward.
They really needed to agree on an official list of benefits, just not right now.
After following Dalton home so he’d know where to pick the dude up later, Tierney raced back to the condo and dressed in something casual, brushed his teeth, reapplied deodorant, finger-combed his hair—totally went all-out, ready to go at 7:15.
He’d said he’d pick up Dalton at eight.
But he couldn’t just wait around his place. Too antsy. So he drove around awhile, feeling like a high school kid about to go out on his first date. Except he’d never been nervous like this before any previous date. Of course, those had all been with girls, and this would be his first date with a guy.
Not that it was a real date. Just a friend date.
Felt like a real date, though.
Should he bring flowers?
Somehow, he found himself standing in the entryway of a grocery store, staring at the floral display, totally dissatisfied with it. The blossoms were all too perfect, and the prearranged bouquets all had little signs perched in them, with things like “I love you” embossed on plastic hearts.
Even if they’d had one that read “I love you, good buddy,” or “Platonic relationships rule,” he wouldn’t have bought a bouquet. They were too impersonal.
Fuck flowers. He was getting Dalton something else, something personal that showed he valued their friendship. That showed he’d been paying attention, and knew what the guy might like. He was going to buy a thoughtful, considerate gift in the next—
7:48 claimed his watch.
Fuck.
—next five minutes.
Turning around in a panic, he saw a book display rack near the check stands.
Dalton likes to read. A memory surfaced, of the book he’d seen in Dalton’s backpack last time he’d come over to Tierney’s. The cover’d had a couple in a clinch on it. This place ought to have something similar, right? Romance novels were popular.
Turned out grocery stores weren’t great places to find reading material. He finally settled on the least offensive cover—an uptight, business-suit-wearing woman with a prim mouth stood in the foreground, glancing back over her shoulder at a guy wearing coveralls, grease stains, and a knowing smirk.
It’s the thought that counts.
Minutes later, standing in front of apartment 4C waiting for Dalton to answer his knock, he realized he was nervously—and repeatedly—slapping the gift bag containing the book against his thigh. He forced himself to stop just before the door swung open.
“Hey.” Dalton was pulling on his coat, blond hair damp. A faint, woodsy-soap scent surrounded him. “I’d invite you in, but we should probably go or we won’t have time to eat first.”
“I got you something.” Holding out the stupid present, he noticed the bow was smushed from his fidgeting. “Uh, it’s just . . . It’s sort of a thank-you thing. For being there.”
“Oh.” Dalton’s eyes went shiny, just like at the garage when he’d been walking toward Tierney. He came toward him again now, stepping out into the hallway to take the gift from only a few inches away, bringing his scent and warmth closer, looking at the bag a second before reaching into it and pulling out the paperback.
Tierney winced when he saw the cover again. On its own, not next to books featuring bare-chested pirates and windblown hussies, it seemed really . . . sordid.
“The Billionaire’s Baby Daddy.”
Fuck, that was the title? “Well, um, I know you like to read, and they didn’t have . . . uhhhh . . .”
“Thank you,” Dalton said, meeting Tierney’s gaze and hugging the book against his chest, smile softer but somehow better. Fuller.
Tierney followed his impulse, leaned forward, and kissed Dalton, taking his lips between his own, like a hug. Which was dorky, because it was supposed to be a “thank you for the gift” kind of kiss, but that would have been Dalton’s job. He was always fucking up this friendship shit, wasn’t he? He straightened after a second, clearing his throat. “You’re welcome.”
Fingers—Dalton’s fingers—sliding up the back of his neck made him shiver, then the scratch of fingernails through the hair at his nape gave him a full-out attack of goose bumps. Dalton used his free arm to pull Tierney closer, bringing them chest to chest, with the book trapped between them, mouths only centimeters apart.
Tierney’s heart knocked against the paperback, trying to break through the barrier. “I had to buy it at the grocery store,” he whispered. “It’s a lame gift.”
“It’s not.” Dalton shook his head, lips brushing back and forth against Tierney’s, piling goose bumps on top of his goose bumps. “Are you hungry?”
All the blood in his body raced toward his groin—the liter or so that wasn’t already there—then it occurred to Tierney that Dalton might be talking about actual food. “Uh . . .”
“We could skip dinner and you could come inside. See my place.” Dalton stretched closer, giving him a soft, clingy kiss. “I have a new bed.”