The first thing he noticed was the lack of photos. There wasn’t even one. Not so unusual, Tate thought. He didn’t have any photos up either, but then again, he’d only been living in his crappy apartment for a short period of time, ever since directly after his—divorce.
Putting the cup down on the counter, he ran a hand through his hair. Am I really considering taking this all the way? As he looked at the couch and remembered last night, not to mention this morning, he knew that if they continued, then yes, he would eventually need to find a way to tell his friends and family. I mean, what’s the alternative? There wasn’t one, and Tate knew when it came to Logan, the feelings he was starting to have were already starting to escalate.
Moving over to the couch where Logan had put his jacket, Tate heard his phone start to buzz. Pulling it out of the pocket, he noticed he’d missed—oh fuck—six calls. While taking his cigarettes out of the other pocket, he answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.
“Tate?” his mother greeted him.
Tate sighed. “Hi, Mom.”
“Where on earth have you been? I’ve been calling you since last night. I thought maybe you forgot to pay your bill, and they turned your phone off.”
Tate wandered over to the door leading to Logan’s balcony. He unlocked it and stepped outside. Leaning back against the wall, he crossed his legs and looked out at the building next door, wondering if he could see inside if he looked hard enough.
“When has that ever happened?”
“Well, okay, never,” his mother answered.
He could hear a drawer being opened and what he thought were utensils being moved around.
“Then, why would it happen now?” Tate pulled a cigarette out between his lips and grabbed the lighter. Holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he waited.
“I don’t know. Why else wouldn’t you answer your phone?”
There was a pause as Tate tried to think of a likely reason, other than the real one. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough.
“Were you on a date?”
“No.”
“Did you have a woman over, and that’s why you couldn’t answer?”
“Mom. No,” Tate stressed.
But it was beyond containment.
“What’s her name? What does she look like?”
Tate took a long drag of the cigarette and closed his, picturing his date from the night before. Yeah, somehow, he didn’t think his mother would appreciate that his date was around six-feet-two and had dark stubble to match his short black hair.
Oh, not to mention, Mom, his dick is slightly longer than my own.
Yeah, maybe not.
“Mom, there was no date.”
Tate could hear some water running and knew that his mother must be in the kitchen, cooking. She loved to bake, and that was his opportunity to get the hell out of this sticky conversation.
“What are you cooking?”
“Don’t you try and change the subject, William Tate Morrison,” his mother warned jokingly, pulling out the full-name card.
“There is no subject.”
Then, as if she could see through the phone, she asked, “Are you smoking?”
Tate gritted his teeth. “I’m going to hang up the phone, just so you know in advance, and don’t get mad.”
“Don’t hang up, don’t hang up,” she grumbled.
“Are you going to quit hassling me?”
“I suppose. But don’t worry, I promise not to tell everyone that you’re seeing someone.”
Tate’s jaw started to tick. The woman was as stubborn and pigheaded as…well, himself.
“I’m. Not. Seeing. Anyone.”
“Okay, son. You’ll bring her around when you’re ready.” His mother paused and then asked, “So, what time will you be here Sunday?”
Tate rolled his eyes and told her a time. Hanging up the phone, he chose to ignore the nervous thumping of his heart at the mere thought of bringing Logan anywhere near his family.
In fact, to settle his nerves and any lingering doubt he had, Tate selected Logan’s name on his contacts list, opened up a message box, and began typing.
I’m convinced my shower would have been so much better with you in it this morning.
* * *
Logan had just sat down at his desk when Cole wandered in and shut the door.
“What now?” he asked.
Cole walked over and sat in the chair opposite him. “Tell me how it went.”
Breathing out a sigh of annoyance, Logan leaned back and brought his ankle up to rest on his knee, tapping his fingers on the wood. “Well, I walked into the conference room, offered him a blow job, he accepted, and then we signed the papers.”
Cole remained silent, obviously not believing him.