Take It Outside (Trailhead #1)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Levi

B eau Davenport. From Texas.

When I'd first spotted him from across the bar, maybe just as Adrian had stopped listening to me about one thing and let me move on to another, I’d thought Beau looked like someone had special ordered a slutty lumberjack and got exactly what they wanted. Up close? Well, I’m not sure I’d describe him all that differently, except now I know he smells good too, and that the dark chest hair visible where the top of his buffalo plaid flannel is unbuttoned wasn’t just in my imagination. There’s also no chance anyone else moves as gracefully as the man guiding me around the dance floor now, regardless of what Beau thinks the weekend’s crowd might bring, and I already know he will have to be the one to walk away tonight.

I’ve never had much success at that sort of thing.

“Been a while? ”

The question startles me and I stumble a little then, but Beau’s entire body is there to catch mine, and I take another few seconds to realize that I’m being asked about the two-step and not a dozen other things I’ve gone with or without for far too long.

“Yeah, this isn’t really—we’ve been busy with the move and learning our way around and—” I shrug as well as I can with Beau’s arms wrapped around me, my oxfords doing their best to slide through the sawdust when I meet those deep, dark eyes again. “I haven’t danced in a really long time.”

“And you thought it would be best to ask me to join you.”

It’s not a question, but I can’t help but answer. “I did. It wasn’t going to happen any other way.”

“I’m not interfering in anything, am I?”

“Like you just said, I asked you to dance. I’m not sure that’s how interfering works.”

Beau chuckles and it only serves to draw my attention to his mouth, or maybe it’s his beard I’m staring at now. There’s the slightest hint of gray there, and it’s neatly trimmed and probably softer than it looks, none of that something I should notice, except that it has me wanting to touch my own cheek and wonder one more time why Adrian still presses his mouth to that same bare skin night after night. I’m not Adrian’s type, and Beau definitely is, and it makes me a little bit dizzy until Beau spins me again and somehow unwinds it all.

I relax then, even as I can feel my body grow warm from movement it's not used to, and if Beau takes note of it, he doesn’t say. We’re quiet for another minute, and one song becomes two, and I make eye contact with Adrian long enough to think maybe Beau’s done the same. And then he pulls me that much closer, comfortably so, and smiles down at me.

“Whose idea was it to move across the country?”

“Mine,” I say. “Or I suppose both of us were ready for a change, but a friend of a friend helped get me a job out here, so then we had a reason to do something about it.”

“What do you do?” Beau asks.

“I’m a teacher. Fifth grade. You?”

“Massage therapist.”

I try not to choke on my own spit, and swallow just in time to trip into Beau again. “You’re a—I mean, I guess that explains your—but wait, no. Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughs, his entire body moving with it, even while his two-step remains flawless. “And what does that explain?”

“Your hands. They’re ridiculously soft. And you smell really nice, but not like the whiskey I might’ve expected.”

“Tequila. If I’m drinking something other than shitty beer, it’s probably tequila,” Beau says, his gaze flitting over my shoulder and back again. “I’ll leave the whiskey to him.”

“Ah, yes. You were right there when Darren made Adrian’s drink.”

“Adrian.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Was he able to find a new job out here, too?”

When Beau turns his head again, I take a chance and use a gentle hand to bring him back, my fingers pressed against his beard just long enough to get his attention. Our conversation has been smooth, and I don’t want to stumble over my feet either, but if he keeps staring over my shoulder, it’s going to throw me off balance.

“He’s works for himself, and he can do that just about anywhere.”

“So, the move was easy for him.”

Clumsy again, I’m the one to look away, increasingly breathless and grateful that the song is nearing its end. “I’m not sure anything’s ever been easy for him, but his job isn’t a problem.”

“And you love him. Adrian,” Beau says, his low drawl wrapped so carefully around the name.

I just sigh. “Maybe more importantly, he loves me.”

There’s nothing much to say after that. Or there’s plenty to say and nothing I will share with a handsome stranger on a night I’m determined to be both selfish and not. Beau pulls away before another song can start, and I think he must feel it too, this need for a break. My heart is beating harder than it should after a couple of songs, but Beau doesn’t seem to need much from me. He squeezes my hand once before he lets go to tip his hat, gone just as I try to thank him, and it takes me another moment or two to turn toward the table where Adrian patiently waits.

Always, always, always patiently waits.

“You were beautiful out there,” Adrian says, knocking his mostly empty glass against my bottle until I finally lift it for a sip.

“Is that ‘you’ singular or plural? ”

I earn myself a glare for that, but I’m not sorry, and he ignores the question either way. “You know I’m not mad that we’re here, right? I’m not mad about any of it.”

“We could’ve gone somewhere else, though. Somewhere less—” I gesture toward the bar and Beau and Darren and the few others who have gathered there.

“Yeah, maybe. But you like it here already, don’t you?”

“I do. And I still think you should try dancing.”

Adrian shakes his head. “I don’t dance.”

“But you’re wearing the boots for it. And he’d take good care of you out there,” I argue. “Wouldn’t let you fall.”

“I’m wearing the boots because you asked me to. And I don’t doubt that, but I also won’t fall if I sit here with my drink and enjoy the view.”

I play with my beer more than I drink it, and I take some time to look around The Trailhead Saloon now that my heart beats in time with the music blaring from somewhere unseen. Our table is set to the right of the front door, closer to the dance floor than anything else, and the bar itself is just beyond that, Beau sitting about as far from Adrian and me as possible. On the left side of the building are a couple of pool tables, several more places for people to sit and talk and drink and relax, and a mechanical bull in the back corner. There are banners advertising the bar’s drink specials, a sign above the back door inviting guests to the beer garden, and rainbows scattered anywhere that might make sense. It’s loud and the right kind of dim, and I’m grateful to be here .

I reach for Adrian’s hand across the table and hope I’m not the only one.

“Bet you could get some good pictures here.”

“Probably could, but do you really think the rowdy gay cowboy crowd is gonna run to the quiet bitch in the corner and ask him to capture them in the right light?”

I bite my lip, usually more Adrian’s bad habit than my own, though I can’t quite stop myself tonight. “We’re not really in the corner.”

“The rest of my question stands.”

“Fine. No pictures. You’re my quiet bitch anyway.”

“That I am.”

“You want another drink?” I ask.

Adrian brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. “Are you having another one?”

“No.”

“Ah. You want to dance again.”

“Yeah, but I can kill two birds with one walk to the bar, or something like that,” I say.

“You’re gonna dance with the same guy.”

I smile. “Unless you’ll do it.”

“Another Jack and ginger please.”

“Mmmm, my quiet bitch,” I murmur again, sliding off my stool only to step close enough to kiss Adrian, a deep and dirty thing we both deserve.

It’s almost enough for me to change my mind and take him back home instead. As much as I need—and want —to be here, there are plenty of reasons for me to put myself in Adrian’s arms and give or take all the things we’ve forgotten how to share. We have a new house and a new bed and new sheets, and while it’s possible that none of that matters, I have to hope it does. I want to come while he holds me close, or maybe it can be the other way around.

And maybe one more dance and one more drink will be what leads us there.

Both Beau and Darren have turned toward me by the time I reach the bar, and I don’t think I’m surprised when it’s Darren who speaks first.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t make it back over to your table. You guys ready for another round?”

“Just the Jack and ginger, actually,” I say, suddenly nervous in a way I shouldn’t be when it’s already been such a good night. But Darren has moved to grab a glass, and I take advantage of the second or two I have to find Beau’s big brown eyes beneath the brim of his hat. “Do you—I was thinking we could dance again? Or not this song—when another two-step comes around, I guess?”

“Not this song?” Beau teases. “Because you don’t like to swing with someone new or because you don’t know how?”

“Fuck, no—that’s not what I—”

Darren returns with the drink in his hand. “Should I go drop this off while you two negotiate some weird sex thing?”

I blush and duck my head, but Beau catches me there, gentle when he tips my chin back up again. “Ignore him. I know this isn’t a weird sex thing. I was just giving you shit, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I just—I don’t know how to swing dance. That’s all.”

Darren’s long gone, probably at the table with Adrian by now, and I sigh while Beau smiles. I’d already told him it had been a while since I’d danced, but it’s been so long since I’ve done any of this, and I think he’s the kind of person I could tell all about it if I wasn’t already so good at saying nothing at all. And then he’s standing next to me and resting a large hand against my side and listening to the song still playing overhead, his head turned to watch Adrian for a beat too long before he looks at me again.

“There will probably be another good swing song after this one—they try to set it up so there are a couple in a row—so if you’re okay with me leadin’ again, we can give it a shot.”

I feel a frown come and go. “You really don’t mind?”

“Just wanna dance.”

So, we take the short walk back to the dance floor, and with only a few other couples out there now, Beau has plenty of room to introduce me to the basics of West Coast Swing. That’s far less time than we need, but my rhythm is good enough for us to keep up with something nowhere near as clumsy as it could be, even if we’re mostly holding hands and rocking one way and then another. He’s got me though, and I’m grateful that he hasn’t found any reason to change his mind about that, a quick glance at Adrian enough for me to believe in so much more.

“Guess you’re not gonna be twirling me around with this one, huh?” I huff, my cheeks probably pink all over again.

“My boots can take a lot of abuse, but I don’t think I need to invite more,” Beau winks. “Good to know you like being spun in circles, though. Are you the guy who likes to hang upside from roller coasters too?”

“It’s been years since I’ve been on one, but once upon a time, I was definitely that guy.”

He pulls me closer then, and I’m reminded again of just how small I am in this Texas cowboy’s arms, plenty used to Adrian’s size and strength, but neither quite matched with Beau’s. I consider asking more about Darren, and how Beau has managed to stay friendly with him even after their marriage ended, but I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing that makes for polite dance conversation. He tilts his head to catch the last few seconds of our swing song just before it becomes something new, and it takes me another several beats to realize the new one is something I can move to without falling all over either of us.

“Come on, we’re back on solid ground,” Beau says. “Unless you want to dance with him now.”

I don’t look at Adrian this time, and Beau doesn’t either, his eyes locked with mine as he begins to lead me around the floor without waiting for an answer.

“He doesn’t dance,” I shrug. “And I tried to tell him you’d be gentle if he wanted to dance with you, but I guess you’re all mine tonight. Or not—I didn’t mean that you’re—it’s not like that. He and I aren’t trying to—”

“Swing. Yeah, I got that.”

“Sorry.”

Beau laughs. “About what? Not trying to have sex with me? Or are you sorry for repeating that more than once in the span of about five minutes? Because at some point my ego could start to bruise.”

“Both, maybe?” I say. “I just wasn’t sure whether it’s weird that we showed up here, and then I asked you to dance without even saying hello first, and Adrian’s just sitting over there by himself, and then there was that comment about this being a sex thing, and I—”

I trail off and I’m relatively impressed that I’ve been able to dance the entire time, something about Beau making that much easy even when so little else is. I’m staring to get sticky with sweat, and I know he is too, but he leads me through one turn, then another, and when I can’t help but giggle, he smiles.

“Already told you to ignore Darren. He’s mostly harmless, but he censors very little.”

“I feel like I haven’t been out in so long,” I tell him. “I don’t even know how to take a joke.”

His hand presses more firmly against my back, a reassurance before he speaks. “Okay, so it’s been years since you were upside down on a roller coaster, you haven’t danced in a while, and now you’re telling me you haven’t been out at all. What made tonight different?”

“I mean, it’s not that I haven’t been out at all . We’ve been shopping for house stuff and to the beach to relax and we’ve driven around plenty. I don’t want you to think I sit at home all day, every day.”

“And I don’t want you to think you actually have to answer me, Levi. This isn’t an interrogation, just the chance to get to know the guy who got me to leave my bar stool tonight.”

“It can’t be that hard to do. You obviously love to dance.”

“I do,” Beau agrees. “Doesn’t mean I always remember to take care of myself that way.”

“Bullshitting with your ex-husband isn’t part of a self-care routine?” I tease.

Beau pauses for a long time, guiding us into a promenade position that allows him to avoid eye contact altogether, and I’m not na?ve enough to miss the maneuver for what it is. The music remains loud though, so the silence isn’t awkward enough to make anything ache, and it’s only when he finally turns us back again that I bother to return some small favor.

“You know you don’t have to answer me either.”

“Mmmm, no, I don’t. But it’s not really that. More like you caught me on the night I’ve been askin’ myself the same thing.”

“Because?”

“Because while I’ve worked hard to fall out of love with him, I think I’ve accidentally fallen out of love with a few other things,” Beau says. “And I’m not sure how much of it I can get back if I keep showin’ up at Trailhead every week.”

“Guess I caught you just in time.”

“For what?”

I take a deep breath after he spins me again. “To convince you to stick around here long enough to dance with me again this weekend. Maybe it can be good for both of us.”

“So, whatever brought you out tonight, you want more of that?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Beau’s eyes flash to Adrian and back. “And it’ll be good for him, too?”

“You’re so damn concerned about him, and it’s not—I’m glad you are. I really am,” I say, my dance steps still smooth while my voice starts to tremble. “But I promise that you aren’t some sort of problem, and me dancing with you isn’t some sort of problem, and coming back here on the weekend isn’t some sort of problem. He and I got really stuck in New York—for a lot of reasons, probably. Busy jobs, a tiny apartment, shitty weather, so many family members and friends nearby, which sounds great, but was also just really overwhelming. And I’m—he’s— fuck .” I trip a little and shake my head until the echo of it is gone. “We wanted things to get better for a long time, and we should’ve done something about it—and I tried to, I think—but nothing really changed for the better until I found about the job out here and we finally got out.”

“But even after moving, you haven’t had the time to have any fun,” Beau says. “Not until tonight.”

I nod, mostly because he’s correct enough. “And you stopped having fun here, but maybe you haven’t had the time to figure out where else to go.”

“Fifth grade teacher, huh?”

“And amateur shrink.”

“Excellent work, doc,” Beau laughs, tugging me away from the dance floor just as a new song begins, the beat something less familiar to me. We’re both breathing deeply, just winded enough to notice, and I feel as warm as he looks, his cheeks almost certainly pink beneath his beard. “How’s Saturday night sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Beau’s gone before I have to talk myself through a strange thank you or a clumsy goodbye, and I find myself back at Adrian’s side only seconds after that, forgoing my stool to stay on my feet just a little while longer. My half empty bottle waits for me on the table, but my stomach turns at the thought of drinking it now, and I press my mouth to Adrian’s neck instead. I feel something unfurl inside me, and I know it’s been loosened by whatever small thing we’ve accomplished tonight, this challenge made by and for ourselves, and when his hand slips beneath my shirt to curve around my waist, I sigh with relief.

Adrian feels something, too.

“You’re okay?” he whispers.

“Relax. You worry about me as much as he worries about you.”

“That guy?” Adrian asks, a beautiful eyebrow arched as he nods toward the bar.

“Beau. Yeah.”

There are reactions he could have to that—good, bad, or indifferent—but he doesn’t bother, and I stay just as quiet as I watch Beau from across the room. He’s talking to the other bartender, the damn near ethereal one he’d referred to as Riley, and while I don’t think they’ve stepped out from behind the bar since Adrian and I arrived at Trailhead, they move closer to Beau now. It’s a private conversation, clearly, and I pretend there’s no chance it has anything to do with me, letting my focus fall to where Beau’s hand hovers over a stretch of Riley’s bare skin, both of them steady when his touch never lands.

The warmth against my own body makes me shiver, and Adrian gets my attention again.

“If you want to go home already, we can. There aren’t rules, you know.”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I want to go home.”

We don’t say anything else for a while, but Adrian has already settled our tab with Darren, and once we’re both buckled into the car, he glances at me with the kind of caution I wanted to leave in New York. I feel better about it when he pulls out of the lot and takes my hand, squeezing it in response even as I turn to look out the window. There’s music playing to keep us company on the drive—not a country song to be heard in the mix—and by the time we park in front of the small townhouse we’re renting, my heart is thumping with more than whatever we left behind.

Adrian lets go of me long enough for us to get inside, but by the time the front door is being locked behind us, I’m crushed against it, his weight perfect when it pins me there.

“I want you,” Adrian breathes. “So much. But I—if you don’t—”

I cut him off with a kiss, my arms around Adrian to keep him from going anywhere else, both of us responding to the contact and moaning when we realize there’s nothing stopping us tonight. We don’t have anywhere to be in the morning—the beginning of my school year still about a month away and his schedule giving him the kind of flexibility we’re grateful for now—and if it takes hours to get this right, I feel suddenly certain we will. His hips roll forward and I gasp into his mouth before I can care about seeming anything but needy.

“I want it all. Please don’t stop. We’ve got all night to have it all.”