5. Wylie
WYLIE
An easy back-and-forth developed between them after that night at the pit.
Diego was more relaxed and far less grumpy during their shifts together in the week that followed.
Wylie steadily flirted but not obnoxiously so, and every reluctant grin he was able to pull from the reserved man felt like a small triumph.
As it so happened, one of Wylie’s exes came into the pit, giving him the perfect opportunity to mention to Diego that he was gay, but all he got in response was a sarcastic, “Yeah, no shit.”
So, there was that.
The man was as maddening as he was hot, a puzzle, a Sphinx.
His reluctance to share made each small morsel that Wylie collected incredibly satisfying–raised by a single mom, Catholic though not practicing, big extended Cuban family, most of whom lived locally or in nearby Tampa.
Wylie had several follow-up questions, but he was learning Diego’s limits, just how much he could push before the man went silent.
Was this another form of edging?
Being a man with a plan, Wylie’s mission for that night was to get Diego to come out with them as a staff and possibly make some new friends.
Socialize and let loose just a little. Maybe even share a few secrets?
If the night ended in a kiss, then that would be the icing on the cake, the perfect conclusion to his special day.
At present, Diego was testing the temperature of the brisket he’d just pulled out of the smoker.
Frank was training him on how to be a pitmaster, which included early morning shifts to set up everything outside and get it going.
Watching Diego man the smokers with his ripped biceps and sweaty t-shirt clinging to his back as he expertly maneuvered the meat with those big-ass metal tongs was an erotic experience.
The female servers had made it their mission to check on Diego and supply him with cool, refreshing drinks.
God forbid the man get heat stroke and need mouth-to-mouth. Thankfully, Wylie was CPR certified.
“You know what today is, don’t you?” Wylie said to him at the start of their lunch shift.
“First day of hurricane season?” Diego said and, while true, that wasn’t necessarily a cause for celebration.
“Also the most important day of the year, because it’s, drumroll please, my birthday.
” Wylie finished his announcement with a flourish of his mock drumkit, which earned him one of those reluctant grins.
Endearing and incredibly sexy, Wylie considered the smile to be just for him. But he sure did have to work for it.
“Your birthday is today, huh? That makes you…a Gemini?” Diego asked.
Wylie was impressed that Diego knew astrology–even a rudimentary understanding surely indicated that he was gay?
Geminis didn’t have the best reputation though, especially in the romance department.
A few of Wylie’s exes had accused him of being…
well, a petty and conniving two-faced bitch, but it was their bad behavior that triggered his dark side. Besides, it was called duality.
“I’m a highly evolved Gemini. Self-actualized, some might say,” Wylie said.
Diego chuffed at that, clearly doubting him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. So, you’re turning, what, twenty-two, right? Still just a baby.”
Wylie crossed his arms at the dig. Five years between them was nothing as far as he was concerned, and Diego’s teasing felt more like flirting anyway, so he let it slide.
Maybe Wylie was overconfident, but he knew once the two of them were alone together, he could handle the older man just fine.
“My youth means I have staying power,” Wylie said while steadily eyeing his crush, hoping to get a rise out of him, literally.
“Hmph,” Diego said, flustered, Wylie could tell, because there was a slight flush of color on his neck, and he wouldn’t make eye contact. Rather than continue to torment him, Wylie pressed onward with his pitch.
“To commemorate this special occasion, we’ll be celebrating tonight at Jimmy Guanas over on Treasure Island. Do you know of this fine establishment?” Wylie asked.
“I am familiar with it, yes,” Diego said with a lopsided grin.
“Excellent, because it’s karaoke night, and I really want you to come.
” Wylie licked his lips and flashed his tongue piercing, gauging the reaction he got from Diego, as the double entendre was entirely intentional.
Diego cleared his throat and blinked his beautiful Bambi eyes.
Wylie was hella interested, just in case Diego had any doubts. The man only had to say the word.
“I don’t drink,” Diego said at last.
“Cool, you can be my DD, because I am going to get white-girl wasted.”
“As much as I’d love to witness that, I close tonight,” Diego said, a weak excuse.
“With Martin, right?” Wylie knew already because he’d checked the schedule and spoken to Martin about it.
“Yeah, why?” Diego’s eyes narrowed, suspicious.
“Martin will give you a ride.”
“He…what?”
“Martin’s coming, and he’ll give you a ride.” Wylie tried to look innocent, even under Diego’s critical gaze.
“Did you ask him to do that?” Diego demanded. The man was so aggravatingly independent, wouldn’t ask another person for even the slightest favor. Wylie didn’t understand it. He was all about community.
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to pay for an Uber, and I really want you to be there,” was his answer.
“Well, what if I don’t want to?”
That stung a little. Wylie had already imagined what a fun night they might have together, as well as how it might end, but he wasn’t going to beg.
Not that he was too proud to beg–he definitely wasn’t–but because he doubted that strategy would work with Diego.
He’d been studying the man closely. Diego needed a little persuasion, but not so much that he became intractable. It was a delicate dance.
“Then tell Martin you don’t want to go out with us. It’s not like he’s going to kidnap you or anything. But I would be a really sad birthday boy.” Wylie made the track of a tear going down his face. “The saddest.”
Diego shook his head, fed up or impressed by Wylie’s antics, it was hard to tell. “Where do you get your nerve?”
It was a good question, and the answer was probably his mother.
As an ER nurse, she’d had an unshakable confidence in her ability to handle just about any situation.
Similarly, when Wylie had a goal in mind, he pursued it with a single-minded interest. “When I want something, I go after it,” he said simply.
Hopefully Diego could smell what he was cooking.
And perhaps he did, because Diego’s gaze turned heated as they stared each other down.
Competitive with an edge of aggression–could this be the prelude to something that included both of them being naked?
Wylie couldn’t wait to channel that banked sexual tension into mutual, mind-bending orgasms. He wondered if Diego might even cuddle afterward. A boy could only dream.
“Customer,” Diego said at last, tersely, like the word had been torn from his throat.
Wylie’s smirk reflected this small victory. “See you tonight,” he said with all the charisma he could muster before returning to his post at the window to deal with his other reason for coming to work, which was his job.
They were slammed for the rest of the afternoon, so Wylie wasn’t able to flirt with his paramour, sadly, but he did manage to catch the man’s eye after an exchange with a particularly snippy customer, which Wylie navigated with his exceptional service skills, throwing in an extra side of coleslaw to soothe their ire at having to wait.
Diego gave him another of those reluctant grins, which was a birthday treat all its own.
Hannah passed by toward the end of their shift and said her mother was keeping Kayla overnight, so that both her and Fuckface MacPherson could come out, which was not what Wylie had in mind for his birthday celebration.
“Hannah, don’t bring him. He sucks,” Wylie complained, never one to mince words on his opinion of the man’s character.
“He’s doing better, Wy, and he wants to come out with us. Give him another chance.”
Wylie grumbled. “Every time I give him another chance, he does something shitty and pisses us both off. You know how I feel about that…individual. He’s a good-time ruiner.”
“Wy,” Hannah said, batting her eyelashes, and even though Wylie was gay as fuck, he still appreciated the sweet talk. “I promise Brian will be on his best behavior tonight. He knows it’s your birthday.”
Wylie groaned loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear, just in case there was any doubt about his feelings toward Brian MacPherson. “If he acts up, I’mma beat his ass.”
Hannah gave him an indulgent smile. “Sweetie, when have you ever beaten anyone’s ass?”
“Only because I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Wylie wailed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Diego smirk at that. “All right, I’m going to head home and pre-game with the old folks. Want me to pick you up?”
“I’m riding with Brian,” she gently reminded him, and before Wylie had a chance to bitch and moan again, Hannah turned to Diego, “You’ll be there, right?”
Diego was slow to respond, maybe even trying to think of yet another excuse not to come, but at last he said to them both as if it pained him, “I’ll try.”
Wylie pumped his fist. As far as he was concerned, he had this one in the bag.
He’d had a few drinks, compliments of the small crowd who’d come out to celebrate with him–friends, classmates, and coworkers–which meant Wylie was really feeling himself by the time one of his go-to karaoke songs, “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” came up in the queue.