Page 5 of A Coffee Away

I stood. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

Esteban rose, eyebrows drawn together.

I started my way back home.

Esteban grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry.” He pulled away, his other hand still holding the canvas. “I didn’t say that to ridicule you. I moved out when I was twenty-two. Five years ago. I just thought…”

So he was twenty-seven.

I waved dismissively. “Don’t worry. I should’ve moved out already, but, first, I need to find somewhere to sell my art.”

He studied the canvas. “I have some friends in Miramar I can show this to.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Do you think it would sell?”

He widened his eyes. “I’m sure of it. You’re really good.”

I shook my head. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not just saying that, Robbie. In truth, I’m not an artist.” He tilted his head. “Well, kind of. I’m a poet. But I do have friends who paint, and we go to art shows. This is really good.”

A poet?

I peeked at the canvas. What was so good about it? My gut wrenched at the darkness dwelling beneath each stroke. The intense pain each carried. I hated it. “Do whatever you want with it.”

I rushed away.

“Wait!” His tone sounded urgent.

I stopped.

He reached me. “Do you live around here?”

I pointed south with my chin. “Two blocks that way.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

What if they saw him with me?

I pocketed my hands. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He exhaled softly. “Look, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

My stomach fluttered at his protective tone. “Okay.” After all, why should I care if they saw him?

Esteban put one hand inside his swimsuit’s pocket and walked beside me. It took five minutes to get home.

He shifted in place. “So about that coffee tomorrow.”

A jolt shot through me. “I’ll be there.”

He grinned, and his perfectly formed dimples made me smile. Fuck, he was handsome.

“Then it’s a date.” He winked at me, then took two steps back without breaking eye contact. “Nice to meet you, Robbie. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 2: A Real Date

Robbie