Page 13 of Checking Out the Librarian

“Ha!” The bread was in his hand and on his side of the table immediately.

Connor glared. “You sly fucker.”

Jonathan made a tsking sound while he tore the piece in half and swiped the soft end through the remainder of the creamy sauce, then popped it in his mouth. “However will you shut me up, I can’t imagine.”

“You…” Connor squirmed as he let the sentence drop. The air between them felt as hot as the glow from the stone-fired oven in the wall.

Jonathan swiped the second half through the last bits of decadent cream sauce and raised it toward Connor. “I can play nice. For the right incentives.”

Connor’s lips parted and he leaned forward.

“I am not a mommy bird. Feed yourself.”

“Oops,” Connor grinned and reached for the piece.

The small movements it took for him to pinch the edge of crust between his finger and thumb and then lift it to his mouth should be forgettable, peripheral. He should be able to look away from Connor’s hand. He knew staring at another man chewing was making things awkward, but that damn fluffy hair and those wrists had wiped his brain as clean as the appetizer plate.

“Sir, your main courses.” Saved by the server.

While Connor enjoyed his zucchini and goat cheese ravioli, decorated with tiny, deep-fried squash blossoms, and Jonathan the peas and morel risotto, they didn’t fall into conversational lulls, until the point when Connor asked if Jonathan had pets, and he said no.

Jonathan sighed. “This is where I ask you the same question, isn’t it?”

Connor’s grin told him the answer, even before the nod that sent his hair flopping around. “I have a rescue greyhound named Ribby. He’s the best.”

“They always are.”

“No, seriously, he is. A few weeks ago, I didn’t know a chickadee had hit the front window of my house, but Ribby was running back and forth inside along the windowsill, so I went to check and found the little guy. I put it in a box with a towel so it wouldn’t be cold, and Ribby sat near the box until it flew away. I’m pretty sure he was guarding it from predators. Of course, I had to watch too, in case he forgot to be a good boy and got too doggy, but he didn’t. He was so careful. So careful.”

Jonathan wanted, suddenly and completely, with every part of his soul, to have someone speak about him with that glow of wonder in his voice, but this was a hook up with a guy who lived a hundred miles from him and was for probably, most likely, undoubtedly, nothing but tonight.

“And then the script requires me to ask if you have a photo, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, you’d like to see a picture of Ribby? Sure, I happen to have one right on my phone.”

“One?”

“Oh, you’d like to see several?” Connor smirked and then shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t do that on a first date.”

Jonathan snickered while Connor held out his phone.

“He looks very doggie.” And also startlingly like Connor, with gleaming hazel eyes, red-gold coloring, and an alertly tilted head. “Is that a dog smile?”

“That’s his look when he knows I’m taking his photo.”

“He knows that, does he?” It would be nice to have someone look at a photo of him the way Connor looked at the dog on his screen, but producing that type of awe clearly required dating a guy like Connor, not a sarcastic scene queen, and Jonathan knew that he didn’t know how.

As soon as the server left the dessert list, a solemn expression settled on Connor’s face and Jonathan wondered whether he’d somehow insulted the adored Ribby.

No, that was merely his own insecurity. He’d said nothing wrong. More likely, Connor was about to make a joke.

“The recent onion debacle demonstrates that we need not one, but two desserts.”

“Or perhaps we go with none? We could leave sooner.”

“Or, hear me out.” Connor lifted a finger to punctuate himself, apparently with no idea that he was seconds away from Jonathan’s teeth snapping at the end of that finger. “What about three?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin. “No.”