“I went to university,” Tate said as if that answered why he’d taken off on Reno.
He stared at the table for a second as though he was gearing up for a spiel. But once again, Clark interrupted to announce the official end of the break and start of the second half of the evening’s dates.
“Wait for me after?”
The vulnerable note in Tate’s voice shifted something inside Reno’s chest, and he nodded. He didn’t want to give in so easy, but of course he would wait for Tate. Who was he fooling? If he really thought about it, he’d been waiting for Tate ever since he’d run off to university without so much as a “see ya”.
After Reno’s “date” with Tate, he couldn’t stop thinking about him and couldn’t for the life of him remember a single guy who’d sat across from him for the rest of the night. If he’d thought the four-minute dates before Tate had dragged on, after the break, they were excruciating. Every minute until he could talk to Tate again felt like an eternity.
When the last datefinallyended, Clark called for everyone’s attention again. He quickly reminded them about filling out their match cards and how he would be contacting everyone who’d made mutual matches so they could connect on their own later. Then, oddly, he asked everyone to remain in the event room until further notice. A frisson of confusion ran through the crowd. Reno glanced at his watch. Whatever it was, he hoped it didn’t take too long. He’d have to get back on the road for home soon. It was already a late night, as it was.
He flipped his match card over on the table and checked only one box—the one beside Tate’s name. He handed his card off to the bartender since Clark had left the room again and sat on a barstool. He ordered a virgin tequila sunrise since he didn’t want to be buzzed while driving the winding mountain roads home from the hotel. There was always the option of booking a room for the night—which was another reason The Retreat’s speed-dating events were such a big draw—but he’d rather sleep in his own bed.
A waft of spice and bergamot teased Reno’s senses and announced Tate’s arrival as he sat on the stool next to him. From this point on, he knew he’d always associate those scents with Tate. His childhood crush ordered another beer before turning to face Reno.
“I thought you stayed in California.” Reno picked up their conversation as if there hadn’t been an hour break in between. “After university.”
Tate shook his head. “Only for the summer after graduation. I live in Boulder now. I, uh, work at NCAR.”
“You what?” Reno rocked back on his stool. He’d known Tate was into climate science, but figured he’d end up working at a research center in California. “For how long?”
“Six years.”
Reno snapped his mouth shut while his mind tripped over itself in search of words that made sense. Reno lived in Boulder. Well . . . he lived up the mountain in Nederland, but he was down in Boulder often. Tate had been living so close all these years, and Reno had had no idea.
Not once had Ricky mentioned that to him, and they talked on the phone as often as Ricky’s hockey schedule allowed after he’d been drafted to play for Vancouver’s NHL team. Had Ricky kept that from him deliberately? Reno was a grown-ass adult and didn’t need his big brother to look out for him anymore. He could make his own mistakes quite nicely, thank you very much. Not to mention, Tate was obviouslynotstraight.
No, Ricky wouldn’t do that. More than likely, Ricky had just forgotten about Reno’s crush and Tate just never came up in conversation anymore. That and Reno never asked either, so he couldn’t lay it all on his brother.
“Does Ricky know?” Reno asked. He avoided eye contact by swirling the straw in his glass, blending the grenadine into the orange juice until the whole concoction was a deep orange-maroon color.
“That I moved back home? Yes.”
“No, I mean, that you’re gay.”
“What makes you think I’m gay?” Tate challenged, but there was a teasing note in his voice.
Reno turned a glare on him. His tone was sarcastic when he said, “Oh, I don’t know. Kissing other men? Attending gay speed-dating events?” He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
Tate’s grin morphed into a brilliant smile that sent another flurry of flutters in Reno’s chest. “I’m bisexual if you need a label. And yes, Ricky knows.”
Rickyknew? Reno looked away again, fighting down a flare of unexpected hurt. “He never told me.”
“Ricky and I don’t travel the same circles anymore, and with him in the NHL and always on the road, we don’t get to catch up very often,” Tate said with a touch of regret in his voice. “And even though I was his best friend, he didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
Reno swung his head around. “Are you kidding me?”
Tate’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “I’m out now, but I was in the closet for a long time. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, and we both knew it.”
“Neither of you had the right to decide what was or wasn’t right for me.”
Tate studied him for a long minute and then said softly, “No, you’re right.”
Reno fell silent. As revelations went Tate’s weren’t all that earth-shattering, but to know he’d been living so close all these years and their paths had never crossed . . . What did he say to that? Were they not ever meant to be? He sighed and looked away, but Tate kicked at the leg of his chair to get his attention. When he met Tate’s gaze, his big easy smile lit up his eyes.
“We’re here now,” Tate said. “Tell me about you. I haven’t seen you gracing the cover of theRolling Stoneyet.”
Reno laughed and fidgeted with his straw again. “I was never going to be a rock star. Fame wasn’t what I was after.”
