The crowded bar was noisy, smoky and in no way what Tom had in mind when he had suggested to Booker that they were in a slump and needed to set time aside for a weekly date night. When he had made the proposal, he had expected quiet nights in listening to music or dinners at fancy restaurants, but so far, they had experienced the unsavory environment of a pool hall and a night out at a Monster Truck exhibition. To say he was unimpressed would have been an understatement; his lover’s apparent lack of thoughtful and suitable suggestions for the perfect date had him feeling downright pissed off. It appeared Booker was not only adept at getting his own way; he also did not have a single romantic bone in his body. A heavy sigh exhaled from between