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deposited the change directly into the tip jar. He picked up his sandwich and latte. After a brief hesitation, he said, “You know, we should get dinner sometime.”
    Ian felt his face get warm. Was Bartley asking him out?
    “As friends.”
    Of course. As friends. In other words, no, Bartley was not asking him out. Not on a date, at least. They were going to be buddies. Wingmen. Bros. Ian plastered a smile on top of his disappointment and said, “I’d enjoy that.”
    “Excellent. Let’s shoot for next week. Thanks again for the sandwich. I’ll see you soon.”
    “Good luck with the groundbreaking tomorrow.”
    Bartley left the shop, and Ian cursed under his breath. He went into the back to relieve Matthew. “I’ll finish the dishes,” Ian told him. “You can go cover the register.”
    “You sure? I don’t mind.”
    “I’m sure.”
    Matthew dried his hands with a towel. “Are you okay? You seem upset about something.”
    “I’m fine, but I’d rather have you up front. It’s a good business decision. I’m trying to pull in the young and hip crowd, and no one thinks young and hip when they see me.”
    Matthew hung the towel on one of the hooks beside the dishwasher. “How old are you, anyway?”
    “I’m glad you asked me that today. I’m thirty-nine.”
    “Why? What happens tomorrow?”
    Ian removed some glasses from a rack and placed them on one of the metal shelves. “I turn forty.”
    “Forty’s not that old.”
    “Thanks, but we both know you’re only saying that because I’m your boss.”
    “No, I’m not.” Matthew ignored Ian’s instructions and began filling an empty rack with dirty cups and glasses. “Do you have a thing for Mr. James?”
    Ian felt himself blushing and turned away. “Why would you ask that?”
    “Because you don’t exactly give free sandwiches to everyone. And I’ve noticed you get nervous around him.”
    “Whether or not I have a thing for Bartley is irrelevant. I’m too old for him.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I’ve seen the boys he brings in here,” Ian said. “Bartley is out of my league.”
    “Have you ever asked him out?”
    “No, but he just invited me to dinner. As friends.”
    “Oh.” Matthew nodded. “So that’s why you’re upset. You want it to be more than friends.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to. Do you mind if I offer a different perspective?”
    “Sure. Why not? It’s a two penny ante to play.”
    Matthew reached into his pocket, pulled out two pennies, and set them on the counter next to Ian. “Sometimes guys use the ‘as friends’ thing to ward off rejection. Test the waters, so to speak. You know, gauge interest. How long has he been coming in here?”
    “He moved to the neighborhood with his boyfriend last year. He started coming in then.”
    “He has a boyfriend?”
    “No, not anymore. They broke up last fall.”
    Matthew slid the rack of dirty cups and glasses into the dishwasher, closed the steel door, and pressed the red Start button. “And the boys he’s brought in since then? They’ve been younger?”
    “Your age.”
    “And how old was the ex-boyfriend?”
    “In his thirties,” Ian said.
    “Well, that explains it. The twinks were rebound sex. He needed to prove he still has it, you know? But he wasn’t serious about any of them. Now, suppose he wakes up one morning and he is serious. About you , for example. Put yourself in his shoes. He comes in here all the time and thinks you’re a total stud. You’re tall, handsome, well built—you’ve got that whole Al Parker, muscle daddy thing going on.”
    “How do you know who Al Parker is?”
    “I watch a lot of vintage porn, but that’s beside the point. Clearly you have a perception problem, boss. It sounds like you don’t see yourself the way other people see you. Trust me, there’s no reason why Bartley James wouldn’t want to date you. The question is, would you want to date him? Sure, maybe you flirt around, but how does