...Rowan grabbed his bike and headed back to the house.

As he turned around the corner, he skidded to a halt and nearly collided with the older man, now standing just outside the door, arms crossed, and glowering something fierce. Fuck, he was sexy.

“I counted it twice. It was the right amount. If you’re after a tip—”

Rowan shook his head, breath coming faster as he stared up at Finn. “No. No, that’s not it.”

“Then get the hell off my property, boy.” Finn turned to go back inside, and Rowan barely managed to jump off his bike fast enough to reach the door and catch it before it slammed shut.

“Wait!”

Rowan wasn’t really expecting Finn to stop, so when the big man did, it startled him.

“I’m waiting. You have half a second before I pitch you out of my house.”

It was about then that Rowan realized that he, in his rush to stop Finn from slamming the door on him again, had actually pushed inside. Shit. “Sorry.” He paused, tilting back his head and looking up at the other man. “No, scratch that. I’m not.”

“Not sorry? What the hell are you talking about?” It was pretty apparent Finn was about a hair’s breadth from losing his temper, but Rowan was already halfway to losing his own.

“You were rude. Earlier.” Finn’s brows shot up and Rowan rushed to continue before he got cut off. “And maybe other places that would be normal, maybe acceptable, maybe no one would care. But this isn’t most places, and I’m not most people and I do care. So in lieu of a tip…I’d like you to apologize.”

Finn’s eyes—eyes Rowan noticed were a steely blue-gray—narrowed and he took a step toward Rowan. Instead of being intimidated, which he kind of was but wasn’t going to show it, Rowan crossed his arms and lifted his own brows expectantly.

“I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you’re going for, so I’d suggest you apologize and that’ll be that.” If Marty ever found out about this, Rowan was going to be fired so fast he’d have skid marks.

Was it too soon to drop to his knees and give Finn that lesson in blowjobs? Yeah, probably was. Rowan’s stomach twisted in awareness, though, the woodsy scent of the older man flooding his senses every time he drew a breath.

For a long moment, Rowan fully expected to be field-goal kicked right out the door. Instead, after what seemed like forever of them glaring at each other, Finn threw his hands out to the sides and sighed. “Fine. I was rude.”

Rowan tilted his head again, smirking. “Yes, you were.”

“So get out now.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t an apology. It was an acknowledgement, which is appreciated, but not an apology.” Rowan was half-tempted to throw Finn’s “I’m waiting” right back in his face. But that’d be rude and counter-productive and might just get him kicked out, which was not in his plan. A plan he was making up as he went along, sure, but a plan nonetheless.

“Are you serious?”

Rowan nodded. “Yup. Come on, then I’ll leave and be out of your hair.” And Jesus, it was gorgeous hair. Long, thick, slightly wavy, tumbling to his shoulders and pure silver with just a few tiny sections of dark underneath where it hadn’t completely grayed.

That seemed to be what Finn wanted to hear, because he sighed almost in relief. “Fine, I apologize. I was rude, now get the hell out!”

Rowan grinned, nodding. “You got it. See you tomorrow!” He turned and went outside, climbing on his bike when the doorway suddenly filled with six-foot-six of disgruntled sex walking.

“What do you mean, tomorrow?”

Rowan flashed him another grin. “Grande house blend, no milk, heavy sugar, pecan muffin and a fruit salad. You never ordered from us before, so either you ran out of breakfast food or your cook is out of town for a while, maybe both. Either way, you’ll need breakfast again tomorrow. See you then!”

He popped in his ear buds and pedaled away, Jimi Hendrix drowning out the angry shout he sensed echoing behind him.