Sizzle

Chapter 13

Elliot

The speed bag is still vibrating. Damn near took the thing off its hook this round but I can’t seem to care. I’ll buy him another one if I have to.

Six rounds already. I don’t even know how long I’ve been out here. By rights, I ought to be freezing but my shirt got soaked with sweat a while ago so I took it off. I know it’s cold—I can see my breath. His garage isn’t exactly a cozy health club. Right this minute, it’s exactly what I need.

Joelle’s hit a home run with her menu. The local paper called me out of the blue for an interview about “the blogger who transformed the Duckbill,” thanks to the tons of new customer reviews online. It’s not just the menu—hell, they love her. Half the time I have to go drag her out of the kitchen to meet our regulars so they can tell her how she should strike out on her own and put me out of business. I laughed the first time I heard the joke.

I can’t laugh about it anymore. It’s two weeks to deadline, and I don’t have even half the money I owe Mrs. Miller.

But we can’t quit. This is still the busiest season of the year, and hey, who knows? I believe in Christmas miracles.

I never have before, but fuck it. What have I got to lose?

Besides Joelle.

I scrub my towel across my face and throw it on the bench. The heavy bag this time, I think.

Hesent her flowers. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?

I should be mad at him for that, but in truth I’m only pissed I didn’t think of it first. Which is weird but the way the last few weeks have gone, weird is my new normal.

On the bright side at least, if Duckbill goes under, Joelle won’t be my employee anymore. I’ll be able to ask her out then.

The bright side? Jesus.

He came and picked her up from work yesterday, after sending those flowers. Really, she’s better off with him and I know it. I’m happy for them—really, I am.

The bag swings back my way, damn near knocking me over.

Focus, jackass.

The two of them getting closer is a good thing. I’ll tell him so next time I see him.

Him.Like I suddenly can’t even use his name.

Alex.

See? Not so hard.

And there’s the problem right there. The last time I talked to Alex, it definitely was hard and Joelle was nowhere in sight. We were talking about her, sure, but I was on the phone with my best friend. My best guy friend. Who is a guy.

As in, the kind who has a penis. Like mine.

Fuck.

The night of the storm, Alex told Joelle not to let other people’s idea of ‘shouldn’t’ matter. I’ve got no problem with guys who like guys, but in the world as I know it, I shouldn’t be having this reaction to my best friend. I’ve never looked at a man twice in my life, at least not that way.

I mean, not when I’m sober. And that was only a few times anyway. Everybody gets a little curious when they’re drunk.

And that doesn’t even touch the fact that he’s my best friend. He’s the person I count on for everything. We take care of each other. Besides, he’s not remotely gay either.

So really, beating the ever-loving shit out of Alex’s boxing equipment is all I have right now, because everything else is just… fucked.

“You planning on taking a break any time soon? Because the neighbors are starting to think I’ve locked you in.”

I stand up, stopping the bag and grabbing my towel before I look over at Alex.

“I didn’t hear you get home,” I say.

“I worked that one out myself, since I’ve been here for over an hour. How long have you been out here?”

I shrug.

“Something on your mind?” he says. He’s looking at me carefully, like I might make a run for the door any second.

Smart guy, that Alex.

I throw the towel over my shoulder and head to the minifridge for a bottle of water.

“The new menu’s a hit,” I say by way of an answer.

“Glad to hear it,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Joelle certainly seems to know what she’s doing.”

I snort. “People keep telling her she needs to open her own place so she can put me out of business.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” I chug the water. Steam is rolling off my arms. Must be colder in here than I thought, but I’m not feeling it yet.

Alex is watching me and it pisses me off how much I’m aware of it. I don’t want to be aware of him. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Saw the flowers you sent Joelle,” I say, going for the smaller elephant. Maybe if I can piss him off enough, he’ll leave the bigger elephant alone. “Nice work.”

Alex narrows his eyes at me.

“You told me I should ask her out.”

“Did you?”

He takes too long to answer, which is just so much bullshit. It’s not like it’s a difficult question.

“Sort of,” he finally says.

“What the hell is that, sort of? Dude, if you don’t, somebody else is going to.” And just like that, I’m ready to beat the shit out of something again. I turn back to the heavy bag.

“That’s actually what we talked about,” he says.

“We who?”

“Me and Joelle.”

I’m pretty sure whatever he’s about to say is something I don’t want to hear, so I drop the towel and stretch my arms over my head, prepping for another round. I’m starting to feel the chill, which means it’s time to move.

“That’s your business,” I say, managing not to choke on the words. “She’s a good egg, Alex. I think she’ll be good for you.” I widen my stance, focusing on the bag in front of me, hoping to God he’ll take the hint.

He doesn’t. I see him out of the corner of my eye, slowly walking toward me. I don’t say anything. Hell, I can’t even move as he comes to stand next to the bag in front of me.

“We need to talk about this, Elliot,” he says quietly. I don’t know what the hell it is he thinks we need to talk about but my heart is suddenly beating its way out of my chest. I finally look him in the eye, glaring.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You and Joelle have at it. Best wishes and all that. Now get out of my way.”

“Elliot.”

I drop my fists, standing up. His eyes are warm and worried and I want to tell him not to worry about me. I want to hug him because I’m so damn glad he’s shaking off whatever funk he’s been in the last year.

I want to ask him what the hell happened on the phone yesterday.

No, I don’t.I haven’t let myself think about it, not for a second. Because that’s not who I am, and I won’t risk a decade of friendship over a few minutes of complete insanity.

There’s a light in his eyes now. The longer we stand here, the brighter it shines. I don’t know what it means, but I know that if I want things to stay the same between us, I have to shut this down fast.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say again, and look away.

Alex stands there another minute, then leaves the garage without another word.

I drop down on the bench, leaning my head back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The workout stopped fifteen minutes ago. I don’t want to think about why my pulse is still racing like I just ran a marathon.

I hate that there’s this gigantic… thing between us we can’t talk about. But if we talk about it, I’ll have to think about it.

And if I think about it, it’s going to make me crazy again.

I can’t even get behind the wheel of my own car without getting hard anymore. Without remembering what he said, the way he sounded. The way that, for one single instant, I’d imagined him whispering in my ear for real, in person, and not just through the phone.

Even sitting here not thinking about it I’m hard as a damn rock.

Fucking crazy.

The more he talked, the hotter it got me. I had to be reacting to Joelle, right? To the memory of the most incredible woman. Anybody would find that hot.

Except she wasn’t there and she’s not the only person who’s tangled up in this. The other part of what made that night so goddamn good was watching Alex get her off, hearing him coax her where she needed to go, letting him have complete control over what happened and when.

I don’t know what freaks me out the most about that—giving up control, or that I was so ready to give it up to him. That’s not me. I mean, I can be flexible. I can delegate. Just because it took me two years to hire an assistant doesn’t mean I can’t let somebody else be in charge.

I just don’t like to.

And I sure as hell stay in charge between the sheets.

Not that Alex and I are going to be in bed. Together. At the same time.

So why does my dick look like it’s trying to tear a hole in my gym shorts?

The chill is starting to register, wracking my body with a full-on shiver. I consider staying out here in the cold to give my junk some time to calm the fuck down, but a hot shower sounds better. I put the equipment back as I found it, adjusting my dick so I don’t knock something over on the trip upstairs. I’ll take care of that once I get under the water.

Sounds like I’m not the only one who thought a shower sounded good. Alex’s bedroom door is open and I hear the water running from the bathroom just beyond.

I really should apologize. Just because I’m losing my shit doesn’t give me the right to be a prick. So yeah, my life is falling apart. And yeah, the woman I’m crazy about is going to be dating somebody else. I should just be grateful it’s him, right? Not some piece of shit off the street or wherever. I’ve seen the way those dirtbags in the kitchen look at her. They’d sell body parts for a chance to talk to her alone, never mind to get her into their beds.

The thought makes me furious. It doesn’t matter that I know all of those guys, and they’re all decent human beings. None of them deserve to look at her, let alone speak to her.

No, much better that she chose Alex.

A vision of them in bed together stops me in my tracks. I was sick with jealousy just thinking of her talking to other guys, men who I work with, who work for me, who I like and generally respect. But the thought of Alex kissing her, taking her, pounding the ever-living fuck out of her pussy…

I wrap my fingers around my cock and squeeze hard, needing the pressure. Any apology will have to wait until I take care of this first.

A moan coming from down the hall stops me in my tracks so suddenly I damn near trip on the carpet.

Was that—?

There it is again. It’s Alex. Is he hurt?

There’s a tiny corner of my brain that’s screaming at me to turn around, run, get upstairs now, before it’s too late. But I’m already approaching his door before I notice it and—

Too late.

He’s standing in the bathroom doorway. I can see steam billowing out of the running shower. He’s facing away from me, one arm braced on the door frame, the other—

I can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but I can damn well guess.

He’s pulled his shirt off, so I see the line and curve of every muscle as his left arm goes to work. How the hell he stays that ripped when he works so much is beyond me, but I can’t help admiring it all the same.

His back is broad, tapering to slim hips where his pants hang on a wish and a prayer. I can see the divots on either side of his spine just above the curve of his ass.

My dick is tangled in the fabric of my gym shorts so I shove my hand under my waistband to straighten things out. I’m so hard I’m leaking and I can’t resist running a thumb across the tip, drawing from the moisture there.

I suck in a breath, realizing too late that he’s going to hear me.

Alex spins around, panic all over his face. He looks so damn desperate, sweat beading at his temples, eyes unfocused until he looks at my crotch.

Can’t deny my way out of this one. I’m so fucking hard there’s a wet spot on the front of my shorts so dark that I know the second he sees it. His nostrils flare and his eyes dart back up to my face.

God help me—I can’t stop it. I don’t even want to try. I grasp the base of my dick through my shorts and squeeze.