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That was what he wanted to say, but thankfully his brain-to-mouth filter was working today, and practically, that wouldn’t be a great experience in this weather anyway.

“You decide. You know . . . you know the place better than me.”

He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.

“Okay, but let’s not stay out too long. I don’t want you to get cold.”

There was one thing Zeb wasn’t right now, and that was cold. His entire body thrummed with heat. Was Mason making his intentions clear? Oh, fuck, he hoped so. They were going back to New York tomorrow, and they’d be out of this little bubble. Was he waiting for Zeb to say something? Had he just fucked up by not saying, “Take me back to the cabin and fuck me senseless?” Or had he given Mason the green light by asking him to choose.

Mason stepped away from his body and took hold of Zeb’s hand again. He couldn’t help but smile at him, which he returned. For once Zeb was going to stop overthinking things and just go with whatever happened.

“Mason. It’s been a long time,” said a hippy-looking guy behind the counter.

“Anders,” said Mason, shaking the man’s hand.

“And who is this handsome young man?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“This is Zeb.”

Mason put his arm around his shoulder. It felt possessive, but in a way that made him feel important rather than just a trophy.

“Down boy. I have no designs on your man.”

Mason smiled and didn’t correct Anders. What did that mean? He looked at Mason, but he just smiled again.

“Have you got your delicious grilled cheese?” asked Mason.

“Of course. When do I not have it?”

“We’ll take two, and a black coffee for me. What do you want to drink, Zeb?”

“Er . . . just a soda.”

“Take a seat. I’ll bring it over shortly.”

Mason ushered them into a booth in the corner. They put their shopping bags against the wall and sat opposite each other. Zeb was facing out into the café, so he had a good view of the place. It had mismatched furniture everywhere. The booths looked as if they’d come from a diner. There were soft furnishings, which looked like they belonged in a library, and then patio-style furniture. The place made little sense, but it worked. You couldn’t help but feel at home here. He heard Mason chuckle.

“What?”

“I had the same look on my face when I first came in here.”

“It’s . . . different, but . . . perfect, if that makes sense.”

“I agree. The shops are perfect as well, aren’t they?”

Zeb smiled and nodded. He loved them all. There was a bookstore, a craft shop, grocery store, clothes shop, hardware store, and randomly, a tattoo parlor. The latter hadn’t been open, but apparently the place was popular with people coming from miles away to get their tattoos done by the artist, Dante. The photographs in the window had been stunning. Zeb had thought about getting a tattoo in the past, but he wasn’t sure what he’d want the design to be.

He’d bought a few gifts for his friends for Christmas. Charlie was coming over for the New Year’s party, and they were planning their own get-together and a gift exchange after Christmas. They’d agreed on a limit, which was Charlie’s suggestion. He might be with Sebastian now, but he’d known what it was like to struggle for money in the same way Zeb had. Although he was paid well by Mason, he was saving for college. That was something he still wanted to do, although he wasn’t sure if starting in February was right. He hoped he could make it work at the restaurant. Mason had said he would, but that had been when he thought Zeb was leaving. Would it be the same if he just asked him?

“Can I ask you something?” asked Zeb.

“Of course.”

“When you said you could work things around my college if I wanted to go, did you mean it?”

Mason took hold of his hand. “Have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean?”

“No.”