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Gripping the handle in his right hand, Robby balanced the base of the pitcher with his left as he carried it back toward Matt and set it on the coffee table. “He’s an artist. You wouldn’t believe the things he can draw freehand. Brady too.”
Matt tried to find the right level of encouragement. “Sounds…cool.”
Robby swept back to the kitchen and returned with two glasses. “But Vin’s real passion is graphic design. I want to help him. Make sure he graduates. Gets some training. Talent like his shouldn’t go to waste.”
Reaching for the pitcher, Matt made a small noise of agreement.
Robby put a hand on his arm. “You should come.”
“What?”
“To the Q-Center. You should come. Meet everyone.”
The idea of meeting new people never sounded exciting. More like nerve wracking. “I’m not great with people, Rob.”
“I know you feel that way.” Robby’s hand slid back and forth over his forearm. “For what it’s worth, you’re great with me.”
Not so great Robby felt comfortable enough to tell his whole story.
Stop looking for trouble. You’re letting your own insecurities play with your head.
He shook it off. “It’s different with you.” Was it too soon to start kissing again? He eyed Robby’s bottom lip.
“Hey.” Robby snapped his fingers. “Eyes up here.” He gestured to his own eyes. “I’m serious. These kids—well, they’re not all kids. Some of them are maybe, nineteen or twenty. But they need people who they can trust. People who don’t want anything from them. We can change their lives.”
Matt returned his attention to the pitcher and filled the glasses. He sniffed his drink. “What’s in here?”
“Fruit punch. My own recipe. Sugar free, but it tastes delicious.” Robby tipped his glass back and took a healthy sip.
Okay. Matt sipped from his own glass and let the flavors roll over his tongue. Fruity, he could parcel out some orange juice in there and, for sure, some cherries. “Not bad.”
Robby beamed. “I feel so good right now. Like I found what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve got so many ideas. And Paul, the guy who runs the place, says my only limit is my imagination.” Taking another gulp, Robby drained his glass and set it down before scooting closer. “Tell me you’ll come with me tomorrow.”
No way did he want to take the hopeful look off Robby’s face. “I have to work at the bar tomorrow, and I have Jimmy this week, but if the offer still stands, I can come by next weekend.”
He wouldn’t have thought Robby’s smile could grow any wider, but somehow, it did.
“Thank you.”
“Sure.” He sipped the punch and let the liquid roll down his throat.
Robby’s hand wrapped around his and guided his drink to the table.
Matt balled his fists into his lap. “I—I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” He whispered, “I don’t want to mess this up.”
Gently, Robby lifted his right hand and pried his fist open before kissing his palm. “You’re not going to mess it up.”
The kiss, chaste as it was, sent his internal temperature skyrocketing. “You don’t know that. I don’t either. Last night, I almost sent you running for the hills.”
“It wasn’t you.” Robby kissed the tip of his thumb, then did the same with every finger on his hand. “My past is complicated.”
Shut down again. He wanted to press for more, learn how to avoid a repeat of last night’s mistake. But he liked Robby’s mouth on him, and with conversation, especially serious conversation, the kissing might stop. The man’s lips had moved up over his hand to the inside of his wrist, obliterating coherent thought.
“Tell me you want this,” Robby murmured against his skin.
He could only nod. Plead with his eyes.
“You want me to take the lead?” Robby’s eyes darkened as Matt nodded again. “You want me to go slow?”
