Bonus Game (Pride in the Game #3)

1. Allen

Working at a sex shop wasn’t as fun as Allen thought it would be.

He had applied for the job, thinking he would talk to awesome people all day, indulge in gossip, and meet a cute guy or two. But no, half of his shift was cleaning and restocking, while the other half was spent dealing with red-faced, giggling teenagers who had come in on a dare.

Again, who knew working in a store that had a wall dedicated to silicon cocks would be boring?

Allen leaned on the shop counter, sighing as he watched a girl separate from her cluster of friends to shyly reach out and poke the largest toy in their collection. When it swayed, the girls squealed and stampeded to the door, exiting with less grace than a herd of elephants.

“Kids,” said a disgruntled voice beside him. “It makes me sound old saying that, but it had to be done.”

“Patsy, you’re seventy-eight, I think we’re past that.” Allen gave the older woman a teasing smirk to rile her up. “How cool was it to see dinosaurs walking the Earth? I’ve always wanted to ask.”

Patsy looked frail with her tiny stature, big blue eyes hidden behind rainbow-framed glasses, and her curly silver hair, but the smack she landed on his arm stung.

“I’m not the one who just turned thirty. Isn’t that the end of the world for your generation?”

Allen scowled. He hated being reminded of his birthday because he hated this time of year, and he hated Christmas even more. His birthday heralded the upcoming holiday that had been the bane of his existence since he was a child, and now it was almost here.

The music he had been trying to tune out all day caught his attention, and Allen slumped further onto the counter.

“I’ve never seen someone get so depressed over cheerful Christmas music,” said Patsy, reaching a hand to jingle a pair of holiday nipple tassels along with the beat to prove a point. “You’ve always been a miserable brat, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised.”

Allen moved the display of bells and accessories out of her reach before he snapped and threw them across the room. “We’ve known each other for five months, so why are you acting like we’ve been friends for years?”

Patsy opened her mouth, likely to say something rude, but Allen beat her to it.

“Past lives don’t count. Just because I died and reincarnated during your lifetime, doesn’t mean I’m the same person you knew in the eighteen hundreds.”

Whatever insult she had loaded, flew out the window when she tipped her head back and laughed obnoxiously.

Allen left her to enjoy the moment, choosing to sanitize the shelves again while he listened to her laugh, fighting to hold back his smile.

The door jingled, sending him into customer care mode as the day continued to drag on. The one good thing about Christmas was how busy they were, which helped the day pass more quickly and less painfully.

The highlight of his afternoon was helping a woman pick out a strap-on to use on her husband and explaining why she should stick to novice-sized dildos. He had nearly choked on air when she went straight for a nine-inch monster that would have taken him effort to conquer.

Patsy went home at 5 PM, leaving Allen to finish the evening shift and close the shop. The wave of customers trickled down to one or two an hour, giving him a moment of quiet to stare out the window and watch the snow fall.

Allen was so caught up in his weather watching that he had no time to prepare himself when the shop door opened, and an entire team of rambunctious hockey players stomped into the small space.

How did he know they were hockey players? If the fuck boy hats, ridiculous hair, and giant equipment bags didn’t give them away, the smell would have.

Cue reason number 5000 why he hated this time of year. Hockey was the bane of his existence.

The cackling men were obviously on a mission as they pushed further into the store, dragging snow, salt, and noise with them. They were all talking so loudly at the same time that Allen couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he had a feeling it was a prank or a hazing thing.

The loudest one in the group had his arm swung over the shoulders of his taller companion, forcefully walking him to the back of the store where the dildos were glittering in the shitty store lighting.

“A deal’s a deal,” said the leader. “And stop pouting. What you did to me last year was ten times worse.”

None of them were paying any attention to Allen, who had perched himself on the stool behind the counter to watch the chaos unfold. They were too busy smacking their tall and scary-looking teammate on the back, forcing him closer and closer to the wall of dicks.

And yeah, Allen wasn’t a saint. The hockey players were hot.

At least this group was older than the barely legal teens he usually dealt with. As long as they remained respectful, Allen was fine with them horsing around for five or ten minutes.

“Get the biggest one,” said a man in the back. He was an older gentleman with grey peppering his beard. “It’s the size of an arm. What would you even do with that?”

“Master it,” said someone else, who was hidden from view.

They erupted into laughter, and Allen covered his mouth to hide his smile.

“Stop stalling,” said the leader, giving his buddy another rough shove. “Pick out your new boyfriend so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Okay…was this taking a turn down homophobia lane? Allen really hoped not.

“I told you I wanted to kiss a guy, not buy a fake dick. I don’t see the correlation,” said the tall man in a deep voice.

Allen jerked, his gaze snapping to the imposing man who was standing with his back to him. He couldn’t see his face, but he had very nice shoulders—very broad. His dark hair was messy and wet from the snow that was slowly melting on top of his head.

If he wanted to kiss a guy…

“Practice, dude, practice.” The leader smacked him again, but the bigger man didn’t move from his stiff position. “How are you going to gather the courage to hit on a guy if you don’t know how to handle their equipment?”

“They would have the same equipment, moron!” Another man shouted, the last of his words swept up in another wave of laughter.

The hubbub of conversation ramped up, leaving Allen unable to listen in on the entire discussion. He kept his eyes glued on the tall man with the sexy voice as he was shoved forward, followed by a chorus of encouraging hoots from his teammates.

Allen could tell by the set of his shoulders that the prank victim was grumpy and wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible. He marched robotically toward the wall, looking so awkward that it seemed impossible that the guy could function on skates.

Too awkward. Too, too awkward.

Allen didn’t know if it was because of his height or laser focus, but the guy barreled forward without taking account of the table separating him from Dick Wall ?. The table that had the lingerie set up perfectly—the one that Allen had spent an hour perfecting that morning.

He didn’t have time to shout a warning. The man clipped the leg of the table with his boot, taking himself, the skimpy clothes, and the display of mannequins to the floor in an awful crash that shook the store.

The other six men in the room howled, but Allen ignored them, rushing forward to help the fallen customer. He did not want to get sued tonight.

The leader was trying to help his friend up, but every time he removed a pair of lacy panties from him, he laughed so hard he had to stop and gasp for air. “You are the clumsiest motherfucker. I swear to God, Jake—”

Allen pushed the broken mannequin out of the way and began plucking underwear off the unfortunate soul. “Are you okay?”

The man hadn’t moved. He was on his hands and knees, head hanging so low that Allen couldn’t see his face, but his red ears gave his blush away.

One of the wooden table legs had snapped entirely off, causing an avalanche of lace and silk to spill onto him.

He was also holding down the second mannequin, the bust of a well-endowed woman, like he was about to perform CPR on it.

“Leave me here to die,” the man said gruffly.

“No can do,” said Allen. “You’re nesting on my merchandise.”

His head lifted, and Allen caught his first glimpse of a handsome face and dark brown eyes. He had a freshly shaved, perfectly chiselled jaw and thick lashes that framed his steady gaze, making his eyes darker and more intense.

His expression went from crumpled embarrassment to shock before finally settling on confusion.

Allen continued to kneel, tuning out the sound of boisterous laughter until it was nothing but static background noise, while he waited for the man to say something.

Do something.

Do anything.

“What?” the man asked, blinking rapidly like he was struggling to see.

Allen frowned, panic rising from thoughts of having to call an ambulance. The guy was clearly having a stroke.

“My panties,” Allen said slowly. “You are holding them captive.”

Another series of blinks. A darkening blush.

“Did you hit your head?” Allen asked, eyes searching for damage. “Did you break your leg? Your back—”

“Can I have your number?”

Allen flinched and dropped the silky lingerie he had been holding.

What?