Chapter
Mace
Days Later
With the bar quiet, I could hear Manny in the workroom shuffling boxes around. The man never stopped working. He was the glue that held this business together.
Lori had taken off work hours ago. She, her kids, and my mother and father had gone to a special church dinner to celebrate something that I’m sure they’d told me about but that I didn’t remember.
Even as excited as Lori was about Slade being in town and even more enthused that I had gotten away from the bar for a few hours the other night, I’d had to hear over and again the sacrifice she made in her nightly routine to make it all happen.
My nerves were shot as evidenced by my foot bouncing out of control. I was jonesing hardcore from being sober for the last few days. The result of giving up alcohol before anything else took a turn in the wrong direction again.
Absently, I dragged a damp terrycloth towel over the bar top, wiping away nonexistent debris. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The few patrons in attendance were regulars. They’d be dropping out, one by one, soon enough.
Maybe my problems were from being all alone in a place I never really wanted to be rather than the alcohol I drank.
Probably time for counselling, considering it was close to eight years since my world fell apart. Maybe. Seemed a lot to unpack.
I’d replaced liquor and beer with Dr. Pepper, so I grabbed a glass, dragging it through the ice and reached for the soda gun to fill the glass.
“Mace, another round,” Louis said, slurring every syllable.
“You sure? I think Debbie’s gonna be pissed,” I said, before tipping my glass for a long drink.
“She’s always pissed off. One more ain’t gonna make it any less pleasant at home,” Louis answered, and he wasn’t wrong. Debbie and Lori were longtime friends. They fueled each other’s anger.
“How ‘bout you, Rocket?” I asked, using the familiar nickname. My mouth watered as I poured Louis’s likely last beer of the night.
Instead of succumbing to the delicious taste of a cold beer, I passed Louis his cold one and reached for my phone to turn up the volume to the high-tech, old-school-looking jukebox. Luke Combs’s “Back in the Saddle” helped process my cravings as I hummed the tune.
“Nah. I gotta head out,” he said, and drained his glass empty.
“You aren’t drivin’, are ya?” I asked. Both men lived in the only housing neighborhood in town, located directly behind the bar.
“Nah. I’mma pattin’ my feet and bendin’ my legs. Makes my heart stronger,” Rocket stated loudly, saying those words every time he answered that question. A guttural laugh followed.
“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Louis said, swaying more than Rocket when he stood. They’d be a loud twosome on their way home.
“Put it on our tab?” Rocket said, digging in his pocket to give me a ten-dollar tip.
“Same for me. Add a tip to my account,” Louis said, reaching for his cowboy hat, sitting it skewed on his head.
In that minute, I didn’t have the courage to toss the freshly poured beer, letting it sit on the bar top instead, and followed both men to the front door as they shuffled out of the bar.
“I’m leavin’, Mace,” Manny called from the back door. Better. I’d take off too as soon as I closed the till.
With a flip on the deadbolt on the main entrance, I let the country-and-western song fill my solitude. That was the exact moment when my shields lowered and my heart and head let go of the tight grip I had on them.
Tonight, like every unguarded moment of the last many days, Slade filled all my attention.
All the guys were great. Best I remembered, I ended up having a good time that night.
Outside of each one’s business success, I related to all of them.
They shared the same fundamentals about life as I did, but none of that mattered as much as my intense physical attraction to Slade Whitaker.
It had taken effort to keep my wayward thoughts at a distance.
Last night, when I left the bar, I drove the sixty or so miles to a box store open all night to load up on any magazines I found with Slade’s image.
He was so damned pretty. Slade’s facial hair hit just right for me, but the other very revealing part about Slade’s career that turned me on like a teenage boy was that Slade never wore any real clothing in any coverage in the media.
Every inch of his body was ripped, tight, and tattooed.
I shook my head at the images. How did Slade manage to be sexier shaved and clothed?
Man, he had it all.
Slade’s laughter rang through the far recesses of my mind. A bold, rich sound that caressed my heart and cock… Possibly imprinted there permanently.
The sudden, rapid knock on the front door startled me just as I was caught in the middle of a growing erection for no apparent reason and needing some rub time sooner rather than later.
I jerked around as if being caught with my hand in a cookie jar.
After my most recent thoughts, Slade’s face, peeking through the glass threw me for a loop.
Joy filled my heart. Sanity seemed uncertain.
Did I conjure his image or was he truly there?
Slade’s grin tossed my fear of a mental lapse aside. I was drawn to the guy, a magical tug, causing me to pivot, an unconscious smile spreading across my lips, giving away every feeling I’d had over the last few seconds.
Slade lifted a hand in a wave, mine rose too.
I went to the door and flipped the lock to open. Slade did the rest, coming inside as I took a step or two backward.
He looked different again.
The ball cap he wore was angled backward, like the first time he came around, but his face had changed. He was relaxed, maybe content. His amber gaze twinkled as he glanced past me into the bar.
“The guys left and I thought I’d come in for a beer. Are you still open?” As Slade spoke, he glanced down at his fancy watch which somehow fit well with the khaki shorts and crisp polo he wore. A gold necklace hung from his neck, and he wore a pair of brand-new Sperry deck shoes.
Who knew how long it took me to answer, but I eventually nodded and followed Slade’s stare into the vacant bar. “It’s slow after the holiday weekend. Not a lot happenin’.”
“So you’re closed?” Slade asked. My gaze shifted back to his, staring there.
“Sort of. Come in. I can close while you have a drink. If I remember correctly, which is fuzzy at best, you don’t prefer beer.
” I crossed my arms over my chest, instead of moving to allow Slade deeper inside the building.
It took another full minute of us staring at each other before Slade nudged my arm to react.
“If you let me all the way inside, it’ll be easier to drink,” he said, teasingly. “Whiskey’s generally my drink of choice. I can pour,” Slade said, when I finally moved enough to let him inside.
“Right. I’ve seen how you guys drink. I can’t afford for you to pour.
We’ll be out of business by the end of the night,” I said, shaking my head free of the sudden scramble messing with my brain.
“Jim Beam or Jack Daniels? They’re all we stock,” I asked, sliding a hand over the curve of the polished bar as I took my place behind the walnut wood.
“Either’s fine,” Slade said, angling his ass on one of the barstools directly in front of me.
I pulled out a cocktail glass, lifting a brow toward Slade. It was a simple silent ask, did he want ice? “Sure. It’ll help with the heat. It’s hot out here.” I poured as he continued, “Campin’ out here in the heat takes its toll.”
Slade’s strong forearms rested against the edge of the bar top, not a tattoo insight. His fingers locked around the glass when I pushed it his direction. “So we decided to camp inside. We’re not as young as we used to be.”
“You’re tanner,” I said and reached for the damp towel to absently wipe over the bar before resting my ass against the back of the bar’s edge.
“More like sunburned.” Slade lifted the glass, taking a sip. There appeared to be no burn as he sucked it down. Then, he spread the collar of his polo open, showing the pink skin there.
“The Texas summer sun’s brutal.” Slade’s eyes stayed on mine as he lifted the drink again and took another taste.
We stared at one another. Nothing said, but not uncomfortable either. The clean, earthy spiced scent of his cologne finally kicked my brain toward the erotic scent. What I hadn’t considered hiding since the second I saw Slade in the window, now strained behind my zipper.
It wasn’t my first hard-on in public, but it was the first time I didn’t go out of my way to hide my relentlessly rigid cock from the world.
“So you’ll just spend the next eight weeks alone in that big house?”
Slade nodded, the grin that had stayed close to Slade’s lips spread wider. “Sounds weird, I know, but the last ten months has been a blur. The quiet settles me. I regroup to go fight the film industry another day.”
“Very dramatic,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. My fist rested under the bulk of my bicep. I wanted Slade to know I wasn’t really the physical disgrace I’d let myself become.
Slade barked out a laugh, spreading my smile wider. “That’s a compliment on my side of the world.”
I nodded. Added in a chuckle and decided to do something other than continue to stare at this guy. I pushed off the back edge of the counter, heading to the cash register at the end of the bar. I punched in the sequence for the end-of-day reports that my mom would deal with in the morning.
The cash drawer popped open, urging me to count the bills inside.
“It took me longer to get here than it should tonight,” Slade said, again making zero sense. After putting the stack of twenties on the counter, I lifted my gaze, Slade’s attention focused on me.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“I was trying to find an excuse to come see you. If we’d drank all the alcohol, or eaten all the food we got from you, well, that would appear mighty excessive and be completely untrue,” he said, the cocktail glass lifted for another longer drink.
This time, there was no question he stared purposefully at me.
“There’s a lot to unpack there. Let’s stick with the first. Why do you need an excuse to come to a bar?” I said. “That’s what we’re here for.”
Slade’s resulting chuckle caressed over my heart as if it were meant to do that very thing. “You don’t make it easy, that’s for damned sure.” The glass lifted again, tilting past his lips.
My gaze tracked every single one of his moves, the hunger building inside me had my heart thumping, my mouth watering, and my cock harder than it had ever been.
“Not the first time I’ve heard such a thing, but why am I makin’ anything hard for you?”
Hard. Jeez. The center of my entire being ached at the strain in my pants.
Instinctively, I reached for the bills to begin facing them. I ended up turning them all the same direction but only gathered the bills together in a single stack, not organizing the dollars like normal.
“It’s usually easier to let a guy know I’m attracted, at least in my world. A cock of the brow, a nod of the head, and we go find someplace behind the scenes.”
The register gave a loud beep as it finished processing, guiding my attention there.
No, that wasn’t quite right. My gaze went the direction of the beep, but Slade held all my attention. Heat zipped up my neck, into my cheeks with record speed. A quick heavy puff of breath escaped the slight opening of my lips.
What did I say to that? Please let something sassy come to mind.
It didn’t. My thoughts raced while quicksand seemed to suck any intelligence out of my body.
Sex hadn’t been on the table, not really, in more years than I remembered.
“Did I get it wrong?”
My silence held as I zoned into the bills.
From the periphery of my vision, Slade lifted the glass, taking another nice-sized drink. We were again in a silent game of wits. Which of us who spoke first owned the matter.
Still, my words didn’t come as I spread my palms along the edge of the bar top, considering what might be being offered.
“He grows more intriguing,” Slade said.
“Explain again how you figured me out,” I said. I tilted my head his direction.
“I told you I didn’t know except when Wyatt got all in your face about it and you didn’t flatten him where he stood. I would’ve.”
“Wait,” I said, drawing my arms up again over my chest, this time in an effort to hold myself together. “You aren’t out?”
Slade’s grin faltered, his palm resting on his heart.
“I hoped it was a half-truth that you didn’t know who I was even after you were told.
No, I’m not publicly out, and I don’t plan to be.
Times are different on each coast, but that doesn’t reach the entire middle of the country. They’re my audience.”
“You’re only lookin’ for a secret hookup?” I asked the obvious.
Slade’s head swung from side to side. “Maybe more than a single hookup. You’re a handsome guy. I’m here for a couple of months. We’ll see what happens. But it helps that you’re hidden too. You’ll keep my secrets with yours.”
Every emotion I’d ever had released, descending over me like a warm, heavy blanket. The complications were staggering.
“Color’s draining from your face. What’s that mean?”
I said nothing, only continued to stare at him for another untold amount of time. I reached for the beer I’d poured Louis, downing it in a few long gulps. A cold bottle of Heineken came next, twisting the cap, tilting it to drain in five long gulps.