Sunday morning and Geneva Nash sat outside of the Holing and West Cafe waiting for her brunch date to arrive. The weather was almost startlingly beautiful, the sun bright and warm as it beat down on the little table she’d chosen in the garden. The umbrella spread above her head did what it could to block out the sun, but she still kept her sunglasses in place to shield her eyes.

Any other Sunday she would have been thrilled to sit there and people watch while she waited, but this Sunday was different. After the argument she and Oliver had had the night before she really needed to talk. She was still a mix of emotions, most of which she wasn’t sure were rooted in the disagreement or in something deeper. That was a lie. Her gut was telling her that what had gone down between her and Ollie wasn’t just a simple lover’s spat, even if that’s all she wanted it to be.

A quick almost too hard peck to her check brought her out of her thoughts. Grinning, Brock MacCallister dropped into the seat across from her, apologizing for being late. Anyone else might be annoyed, but they both knew that it would do no good. Brock, an Army brat, had grown up with more schedules and restraint that necessary, so being late for all things personal was his rebellion against that. It was as much a part of him as his green eyes or his tattoos, so there was no changing it.

Seeing Brock had arrived, their usual waitress Margie came over with the Brock special- a large sweet tea and a side of flirting. Brock accepted the refreshments with his trademark enthusiasm. Gen played with the straw in her own sweet tea as their exchange unfolded. It gave her a chance to soak in her friend’s appearance. His honey blond hair was freshly trimmed so the thin tubing of his hearing aids were clearly visible. The bronze of his skin tone cast a surfer chic vibe to his patrician features. The body that years of baseball and football had molded was displayed in his Sunday uniform polo/khaki combo. The only jewelry he allowed was the luxury time piece his grandfather had gifted him upon his graduation from college. Perfectly put together and still he managed to have an effortless air around him. How he managed that was a secret she’d yet to uncover.

After delivering the specials, Margie left the duo alone with a promise to return. Gen pushed her sunglasses up on her head, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Across the table her friend gave her a surveying look before getting down to the point. “So what’s on your mind?”

Thanking God for friends who knew when to skip the formalities, Gen rested back in her chair. “Oliver and I had a fight last night and I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“We were talking about sexual fantasies and I said I would love to have a threesome with two guys. He blew up. He pretty much called me some kind of twisted whore for even thinking about it.”

Brock didn’t stop himself from pulling a face. “One, you’re the farthest thing from a whore that I know. Two, it’s a fantasy. Barring you doing something unholy to a goat or someone underage he’s got no right to judge you. This just proves what I’ve been saying from the start. You two aren’t compatible.”

Gen was loath to admit it, but for the first time she was convinced he was right. Brock had tried to warn her six months earlier when she’d met Oliver while visiting him at work. But she’d been too enamored with the gorgeous Latino and his accent to listen to her friend. When she’d accepted his dinner invitation despite Brock’s warning, he hadn’t brought it back up again, but the vibe was still there. Judging by Oliver’s comments he was no fonder of her friendship with Brock than Brock was of their relationship.

This wasn’t the first time that the man she was seeing wasn’t fond of her friendship with Brock. It wasn’t like she was stupid. Brock was fine as fuck, successful and most times they were practically joined at the hip. That was intimidating for most people they dated. She’d lost count of how many times she’d explained that it wasn’t like that at all. She’d known Brock since freshman move in at the dorms and he’d never shown any sexual interest in her. Sure they flirted, but for him flirting was like breathing. It didn’t mean anything.

“You’re right. I know you are. But I hate having to break up with him.”

“No one likes to break up with anyone. It sucks.”

“Not for you. If I recall you’ve broken up with someone and then had sex with them.”

“That was only the one time and Andrea was like a break up fluke.” Even with his denial, Brock had a wistful look in his eye.

Gen laughed, shaking her head. “One that only happens to you. For me, it’s back to battery operated boyfriend.”

“That’s your choice. Anytime you wanna take a ride on the Brock train...” He tapered off with a grin.

“I’ll have to stand in line like the rest and pray you don’t run out of steam before my turn.” Gen’s quip came with a grin of its own. Brock rolled his eyes, but his own smile didn’t dim any. “Seriously, I know you’re here for me.”

Brock reached across the table to give her hand a supportive squeeze. “Of course I am.”

“Enough gushy stuff MacCallister, what are we going to eat?”