Provoking the Punter

Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

“There is a man asking for you,” the ma?tre d’ said.

Chester smiled as he poured the beer. He had not expected to be short-staffed tonight and to be behind the bar himself. “Is he gorgeous?”

The ma?tre d’ lowered his voice. “It’s the player from the other night.”

So the answer was yes. Why the hell was Garrett here?

“I’ll be right there.” He glanced around the packed room, cursed his sick staff member, and then cursed Garrett, before slipping out from behind the bar. He’d sort this mess and be back in ten minutes. It would be fine.

He wasn’t dressed for the restaurant. He wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the Bathtubs and Blossoms logo emblazoned across the chest. What he normally wore if he was behind the bar, which to be honest, was often on a Friday and Saturday night because they got so busy, and he wasn’t going to sit around when he could make drinks.

He wiped his hands and slipped into the corridor that led to the restaurant.

Of all the nights for Garrett to turn up.

Yes, he’d wanted to see Garrett again, but not like this. He didn’t want to make a habit of hooking up out back.

While the bar was hectic, the restaurant was calm, though still busy. Grayson and his wife were at a window table, playing the happy couple. No doubt they wanted to stab each other. Grayson fucking deserved it.

Garrett stood by the door as if waiting to be seated. If he’d come into the bar, it would’ve been a hell of a lot less obvious.

Chester swiped up a menu and walked over wearing his best delighted to see you smile on, which was much better for business than his ‘Why the fuck are you here?’ scowl. He kept his voice cool and professional. “I’ll show you to your table, sir.”

Garrett frowned as if unsure what was going on. Well, that made two of them. He didn’t want Garrett thinking that anything was going to happen at work. It wasn’t something he should’ve done in the first place. But with Garrett only inches away, his body was having other ideas.

He pulled out the chair and Garrett sat, then Chester crouched next to the table and opened the menu as if we were about to run through options. “You can’t just walk in and ask for me. People will start to talk, and while I don’t care, I know you do.”

Garrett pressed his lips and glanced at the menu, acting as though that was all he was interested in. It wasn’t because Chester had seen the flicker of desire in his gaze as he’d walked towards him.

“I didn’t know where else to go… I…” He glanced at Chester and then at the busy restaurant before looking straight ahead.

Chester didn’t need to know anything about him to see that there were cracks forming. It wasn’t his place to care or comment, nor did he want to get caught in the mess.

“I’m sorry, I can leave.”

“You’re here now. Have dinner.”

“I don’t want dinner. I need someone to talk to.” From the look on Garrett’s face, it killed him to admit it.

“The team has people for that.” The team provided everything for the players. They were expensive and needed to be tended, so the team got a return on their investment.

Garrett gave him a glare that would’ve killed another man. “I can’t talk about that with them, you know that.”

Right. The scandal that hadn’t become public.

This wasn’t his problem.

“Just because we had a… connection,” he said carefully. “Doesn’t mean…” It didn’t mean what? Garrett was new to the city, closeted, with an ax hanging over his neck, and all he wanted was someone to talk to.

And Chester had enjoyed talking to him. He raked his teeth over the ball of the lip ring, knowing what the smart thing do was, while knowing he wasn’t going to do it. He didn’t want to throw a baby gay football player to the wolves and later hear about a disaster unfolding and knowing he could have done something.

“This isn’t the place,” he finished lamely.

Chester pulled his notepad and pen out of his back pocket. There were already four items that he needed to deal with tomorrow. He turned the page and wrote his phone number, sure that he was about to regret this, but unable to stop himself. He ripped off the page and pushed it towards Garrett. “This is my number.”

He hadn’t given it out to a man in a long while. While he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, Garrett was the first man he’d been with since his breakup with Michael six months ago. In his twenties, he hadn’t taken a week off dating before jumping back in. Now he was enjoying being single and married to his businesses.

Garrett stared at the piece of paper.

“Can you try to look as though you’re having a good time?” Because if the photographer was there now, he’d see Garrett scowling. If there had been another spare table, one where he was out of view…

Garrett looked at him and smiled sans dimples. The mask was back in place. He was terrifyingly good at putting it on. “What time do you finish?”

“I’m a little short-staffed tonight, thus why I’m behind the bar.” He needed to get back there. “I’m hoping to finish before midnight. I can come to your place.”

Those words should not have fallen off his tongue, but the flicker of hope in Garrett’s eyes was enough to soothe the doubts. “Text me your room number and leave a key at reception.”

Garrett shook his head. He pulled a plastic card out of his pocket and placed it on the menu. “Use this one.”

That way, reception would never know what room Chester was going to. “I need to place your order. I’ll let the staff know you’re drinking soda and lime… unless you need something stronger?”

“No.” Garrett shook his head. “And I’ll have the steak.”

“Medium.”

Garrett nodded. “You remembered. You’re good.”

Chester stood, gathering up the menu and sliding the card into his pocket, along with the notepad and pen. “It’s my job to know what people like.” But he rarely remembered after the first night. He remembered what Garrett liked because he was interested.

Because clearly, he was feeling as though his life needed a little more drama and angst and heartbreak, because that’s where this was going to end up. He knew better. Or at least he liked to think he did.

He walked away before he said, or did, something he would later regret.

He gave Garrett’s order to the server working his section, as well as instructions on the drink, claiming he was a VIP. His phone vibrated against his ass. He didn’t need to check to know who it was from. It almost killed him not to turn around and look at Garrett sitting there having dinner alone. “And give him the chicken entrée on the house.”

Not that chicken would make up for anything.

By the time he managed to take another break from the bar, Garrett was gone, leaving a thrilled waitress whom he’d tipped a hundred.

It was just before midnight when he parked at Garrett’s hotel. Four hours since the text that he hadn’t replied to. Should he?

He should drive home, give it another half hour, and say it was too late.

But that was a dick move, especially if Garrett was waiting up.

He sat there for another thirty seconds, holding the steering wheel and hoping for some kind of magical solution to appear. It never did. He’d spent his entire life fighting for the right to go after what he wanted. This time, what he wanted wasn’t the wrong thing, and it certainly wasn’t the easy thing.

Since when had that ever stopped him?

It hadn’t.

But he didn’t want to step back into the shadows. He didn’t want to step into the bright light either or be the center of attention.

“Fuck.” He grabbed his phone and sent Garrett a message that he was there, and on his way up.

If this was a hookup, it would be easy, but then he wouldn’t know much about him. He wouldn’t even know who he was.

Hopefully Garrett was asleep.

He’d go up and knock, and if Garrett didn’t open the door, he’d leave.

He made it as far as the elevator when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Thank you

What kind of response was that? Had Garrett expected him to bail? Chester was affronted by the idea. He’d said he would come, and he was. He’d only considered bailing because it was so late.

It was why he was there that was eating him.

By the time he stepped out of the elevator, he still had no idea what he was going to say or do. He was sweaty and smelled of stale beer that had slopped on his clothes, but his heartbeat quickened with excitement as he walked towards the door. He couldn’t convince himself that tonight wasn’t going to be a repeat of the other night. He wasn’t that strong.

He swiped the key, and the light turned green, and he let himself into Garrett’s room.

Only the bedside lights were on, and Garrett was sitting on the end of the bed, elbows on his knees as if waiting to be given bad news.

Chester shut the door, not sure what to say. It had been a long time since he turned up at some random guy’s hotel room.

I’m here. What now?

He bit his tongue.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Garrett said without looking at him.

It felt as though they’d had a massive fight and were trying to make up. Chester took a few more steps into the room, located the table, and pulled out a chair because joining Garrett on the bed was a bad idea. “If I hadn’t been behind the bar, it wouldn’t have been a problem. You could’ve come to my office.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“You don’t need to, honey. You’ve got my number.”

It was only then Garrett looked at him. Those four hours had been rough. Another man might’ve poured himself a few drinks in that time. Garrett had been writing. There was a pad of paper on the bed with a line up the middle. A classic pros and cons sheet.

While he could read the headings, he couldn’t read the rest of the writing, but he could assume what Garrett had been debating.

“Do you want something to drink? There’s some in the minibar.”

“No. Me drinking isn’t going to help. Why don’t you tell me why you needed to talk to me? You barely know me.”

Garrett raked his fingers through his short hair. “I know enough. And you know too much.”

For a moment Chester wondered if this wasn’t a mistake and his body would be found dumped somewhere a week later. “Meaning?”

“I have no one else to talk to… I’m aware how sad that sounds.”

“Family?”

Garrett laughed, but it was bitter. “My brother doesn’t get it, and my father thinks I deserve it.”

“And your mother?”

“Dead…” He stared at the floor for a couple of seconds. “I might as well tell you the rest. James has already dug around and found it.” Garrett glanced over. “James is digging.”

“And you’re worried he’s going to find out what happened?”

“I’m worried he’s gonna needle me until I snap. Punching a teammate in the face is not a good look.”

“Did you punch him?”

Garrett looked offended. “No! He found the write-ups on the car accident that killed my mother.”

Chester studied Garrett. “I’m not joining the dots, so you’re going to have to do it for me.”

Garrett swallowed and nodded. “It was preliminary finals, my team won. Mum and Dad had been watching. They’d both had a few drinks. Dad told me to drive. In Australia, when you’re on your learners, there has to be a sober adult in the car. I refused. He drove. He crashed into another car, and she died at the scene. He blamed me and football. He nearly lost his job because he’s a cop. I don’t talk about it, but James went through ten years of media on me to find it. It’s why I missed a crucial year of playing. It’s why I don’t have anyone to call.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I am such a cliche, pouring my heart out to the bartender.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. I know what it’s like to grow up without one. Mine walked out when I was five. She dropped me at school and never came back.”

Garrett stared at him. “Was she kidnapped?”

“No… she moved in with her aunt in the city. Went to college and became a nurse. She wanted more than the life my father could give her, but she also knew she couldn’t fight for that life if she took me with her.” His father said it was because she didn’t love them, and as a kid, he’d believed that for a few years.

“Do you speak to her?”

Chester shook his head. “No, she left, so I don’t owe her anything. And she doesn’t owe me anything either. She was seventeen when she got pregnant, and she did what she had to.” He got up and pulled a water bottle out of the minibar. “I can tell you about my family another time.”

He took a drink and then picked up the notepad, half expecting Garrett to stop him.

“I don’t know what to do. I told everyone there was no PR scandal brewing, but I rocked up to that motel room… Fuck.” Garrett flopped back onto the bed, hands over his eyes.

“I think that was your first mistake.”

“No shit, I shouldn’t have gone out for my birthday and?—”

“Yes, you should have. And you had every right to go looking for some fun afterwards. I meant you should’ve told the head coach and Caitlin the truth.”

Garrett lifted one hand. “Caitlin Cole? You’re on a first name basis with her?”

“She organizes the dinners.” If he was telling Garrett to be honest, he needed to be honest. “Sometimes she uses the restaurant if there needs to be some photos taken. Grayson had dinner with his wife tonight.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“You were in your own world; you wouldn’t have noticed if a unicorn had walked through.” Even though the bottle of water chilled his hands, he kept holding it because if he put it down, he’d be tempted to crawl over Garrett.

“True. But what do I do now? If I tell them now, I’m done. No team is gonna want to touch me.”

“You aren’t the only gay player.”

“I am replaceable. I’m not a star. Would you choose someone attached to the scandal-in-waiting or go for an untried rookie? Someone with a clean past?”

“I can’t answer that.” He couldn’t answer for Caitlin either because there were far too many moving parts.

“I’ve fucked up too many times.”

“Once, and how were you to know it was Harrison in that room? Or that his wife suspected he was cheating? If she hadn’t turned up, it would’ve been awkward, but you’d still be playing for the Copperheads, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“They would’ve gotten rid of me at the end of the year. He’d have found a way.”

“Would you have fucked him?”

Garrett shook his head. “No, he’s married. She’s not gonna stay married to him, though. If you know the rumors about him, it means other people do. It’s only a matter of time before people realize she left him because he likes fucking men.”

“Or more correctly, to be fucked by them?”

“Not helping.”

“You want to untangle this mess? You need to start being honest. Because it all tracks back to hiding. You’re wound so tight because you don’t let yourself live. You don’t drink, and you don’t fuck unless it’s your birthday.”

“That’s not true. I don’t drink because my father is an alcoholic.”

“He’s also an asshole from the sounds of it.”

“You know what he said to me when the announcement came out that I’ve been traded? That I am a fuck-up.”

Chester put the pad and the water bottle on the table. His father might hate the way he’d gone legitimate, but he’d never once called him a fuck-up. He lay on the bed next to Garrett and put his arms around him, half expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Garrett turned towards him, tucking his head beneath Chester’s chin.

And for a couple of heartbeats, Chester missed not having someone to snuggle with in bed. His hand smoothed over Garrett’s back.

“You’re right, they will separate, and perhaps, Harrison will come out as bi or gay. All you can do is hope that it happens far enough in the future that people don’t connect it to you. But that means always waiting for someone to figure out your secret. I couldn’t live like that. So I never did. If people want to judge me, so be it.”

“I’m not that brave. I can’t imagine doing that.” His words were muffled by Chester’s shirt.

He must smell awful, but Garrett didn’t pull away. When was the last time someone had held him, and not while being tackled?

“You step out onto a field in front of a hundred thousand people, half of whom want you to miss. You are judged all the time.”

Garrett snorted; his breath was warm against Chester’s skin. “That's different. That’s not who I am. It’s my job.”

“People in the public eye, people like you, are judged on who they’re with, on what they’re wearing, and what they’re driving. Trolls remember what someone said three years ago in an off-the-cuff comment. I’ve made mistakes and stumbles, and I’ve been given a helping hand, and I’m not even a person of significance, not really.”

“You could’ve fooled me the other night. Those people loved being there.”

“It wasn’t for me. It wasn’t even for you. It was for the tax write-off and the ability to name drop.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of Garrett’s head. “Do you know why I started those dinners?”

“Because you like men in tight pants.”

Chester laughed. “I do, but so far, no one has turned up in uniform. My dad, for all his flaws and hatred of the man, taught me the importance of connections. When I bought my first bar, I made sure that I connected with the right people. When I started the restaurant and distillery, I made the decision to invite some of the team members to the grand opening. Because Austin loves the Troopers. And if the Troopers are seen in places, then they will want to be seen in those places. Within a few months I’d met Caitlin, because she wanted to arrange some paparazzi, and when I agreed to that, I put forward my idea for the fundraisers.”

“You’re the reason we have Bathtub Duty?”

Chester closed his eyes and pressed his lips together and tried not to imagine Garrett naked in a bathtub. And failed. Being close to him, holding him and feeling the lift of his back every time he inhaled…

He wanted Garrett to roll over and lie overtop of him, to drop his knee between his thighs and kiss him. “I wish there was an actual bathtub involved. Though I don’t think Caitlin, or the players, would go for that.”

“So you didn’t do it for charity but for your business.”

“Yes. Like you, I made certain sacrifices. I don’t particularly enjoy hanging out with people who would ignore me if they understood the kind of poverty I grew up in.” He needed to shut his mouth. “Though hanging out with them opened doors I didn’t know existed growing up. I was able to meet the right people to help finance the expansion. Now I make enough to sell to other places. They tell their friends about the fun night out they had and so on and so on. What you need are connections.”

“I know players on other teams. There are training camps over the summer for kicking and punting. But there’s only so many jobs to go round. It’s a mostly friendly competition.”

“James isn’t too friendly.”

“No. He’s not too popular either. Well, that’s what one person told me. I’m still the new guy. The one no one is sure about.”

“Make them sure about you.”

“I’m trying.”

“I don’t mean the other players. I mean the people who make the decisions. You start with the underlings. The assistant coaches and trainers. You make their life easy, and then they put in the good word with those above them.”

Garrett tilted his head back, his blue eyes dark in the soft light. “That’s not gonna save my ass. If the shit hits the fan, the team will cut me, and they won’t renew James’s contract. I feel like everything I’ve worked for is about to come crumbling down, all because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.”

Chester groaned. “I’m trying really hard not to think about your dick.”

Garrett’s eyes widened.

For a moment, Chester wished he hadn’t said anything, but getting kicked out of Garrett’s room would be a good thing, right?

They weren’t friends. They weren’t lovers. They weren’t anything.

There was a traitorous whisper in the back of his head that suggested they could be, if he wasn’t so worried about what it would mean if they did have something. “I try to avoid closeted men because I don’t like the pain it will inevitably cause.”

“For you?”

“For both. I’ll resent the way you won’t acknowledge me in public, and you’ll hate yourself for not being able to be out in public, and the fights will become more acidic until all the good memories are erased.”

“I already hate myself.”

Chester cupped Garrett’s face. “Don’t. There are plenty of other people who’ll do that for you.” He was close enough to kiss him now. He wanted to taste his lips. “You did what you thought best at the time… but maybe it’s time to reconsider.”

Was he saying that for Garrett or for himself, because he didn’t want to date a closeted football player?

Garrett moved, closing the distance between their lips. His hand slid under Chester’s shirt and pulled him closer until their hips connected. He felt and heard Garrett’s gasp, as if he hadn’t expected Chester to be hard.

How could he not be when he was on Garrett’s bed and wrapped up in Garrett's arms?

Chester pushed Garrett onto his back and moved over him. Garrett lifted his hips, and Chester gave in, grinding against him. Kissing him like he didn’t need to breathe. This wouldn’t be enough. He wanted more.

The first time could be written off as a mistake, giving in to attraction because it had been a while.

This time, it was deliberate. He wanted Garrett.

What was he willing to give up to have what he wanted this time? Because nothing was ever free.