7. Wylie #2
She waved him off. “Just fill up my tank for me. I’m on E.”
“You got it,” Wylie said, then started to jog down her steps.
“Wylie,” Nancy called and he turned back around. “Take it slow with this one. You’re almost at the finish line, and you’ve worked too hard to get distracted by a man.”
Wylie had seen enough men ruin people’s lives to know better than to pin his hopes and dreams on one, however charismatic and cool he might be.
But he appreciated her cautionary advice, nonetheless, and that she and Hannah were both looking out for him.
They didn’t want anything to derail his big plans.
“Come on, Nancy, give me a little credit here. I’m way too smart for that. ”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed, then waved him off with her cigarette. When Wylie arrived back at his trailer, Hannah was just rousing from bed. He started the coffee maker while she washed her face in the bathroom. Once they’d each had a cup, Wylie figured he was allowed to ask, “So, what’s the plan?”
She sighed like the world was ending and dropped her head in her hands. “I don’t know, Wy. I’m so confused. Can we just…not talk about it? Please?”
Wylie nodded, his stomach sinking. He knew what that meant. She was staying with him.
While pressure washing that afternoon and listening to music on his cans, Wylie contemplated how the hell he might convince Hannah that she didn’t need that weak-ass man in her life.
But all of his reasons were recycled versions of past arguments that hadn’t worked.
If only he could kidnap her and Kayla and force Hannah to detox from that asshole’s brainwashing.
A tap on his shoulder had him spinning around to find Diego haloed in sunshine with an easygoing grin on his face.
Bronzed skin, white teeth, full pink lips, and a jaw line that could cut glass, Diego could be a model, for real.
Not that looks mattered all that much, but damn, his beauty sometimes caught Wylie off guard.
“Hey there,” Wylie said after he’d removed his headphones and powered off the compressor. He must have lost track of time–happened to him a lot when he got into the zone.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. You weren’t answering your phone,” Diego said, shaking the one he held in his hand.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t have it on me.” Wylie was shirtless with damp jeans and white clamming boots that went up to his knees. Sweating buckets under the unrelenting Florida sun, he probably looked to be on the verge of heat stroke, despite steadily hydrating throughout the day.
Meanwhile, Diego was clean and freshly shaven with a crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks.
His dark hair was slicked back, and his sunglasses hung from the top of his shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal his smooth collarbone and the edge of some scripted tattoo in Spanish.
Wylie wanted to dirty this man up so bad, in the best way possible.
“You clean up nice,” Wylie said, letting his eyes linger. This was his first time seeing Diego out of his pit uniform.
“You really say the first thing that pops into your head, don’t you?” Diego asked with amusement.
“For the record, that wasn’t the first or second thing that came to my mind, because those things were nasty as hell, and I’m a gentleman, thank you very much,” Wylie insisted.
Diego laughed but was sizing him up in a similar manner. Wylie could only hope that he liked what he saw. “You still want to go with me to this dinner thing?” Diego asked, the intensity of his stare belying his nonchalant tone.
“Fuck yeah, let me just put this shit away and I’ll meet you at my place in ten. Grab something out of the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
Diego nodded and headed in that direction. Wylie took a moment to watch him walk away while admiring the view. Diego’s ass was meaty and thick, and those buns were tight enough to bounce quarters off of—Wylie would love to go to town on that ass, but he was getting ahead of himself again.
He unscrewed the garden hoses and wrapped them up for storage, then wheeled the power washer over to the maintenance shed and grabbed his shirt on the way back to his trailer.
Outside the door, he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his wet jeans and socks, laying them over the wood railing to dry in the sun, so that he wore only his damp boxers.
Inside Diego was sitting on the couch with an opened can of Dr. Pepper. “You get these for me?” he asked, lifting his drink.
Wylie grinned at being caught. “Manifest.”
Diego nodded, seeming pleased, as he looked Wylie over from head to foot. Wylie felt the heat of that careful perusal and told his cock, yet again, to calm the fuck down.
“Dinner starts in about an hour if you want to shower first.” Diego said.
“Good idea,” Wylie said with a quick whiff of his pits and made a beeline for the bathroom, thinking how nice it was to come inside his trailer and see Diego already there, looking comfortable on his couch, sipping on his cold bevies.
Wylie stripped down while the water heated, then made quick work of soaping himself up but let his hand linger for a bit on his cock.
The soap made for a nice glide as he contemplated the possibility of Diego there with him, wet and naked.
Wylie would love to run his soapy hands all over the man’s hard muscles and suck him off right there in the shower, but the shower stall was tiny as shit, even for just himself, so that probably wouldn’t work.
What was Diego into? Every guy he’d ever messed around with liked getting his dick sucked, so that was probably a given, but did Diego prefer to top or bottom?
Both, maybe. Or neither. Wylie was flexible.
He just wanted to please and get off in return.
But if Diego did like to bottom, then Wylie could really unleash his full potential.
He switched the water to cold to kill his erection. Back in his bedroom, he threw on a pair of pressed khaki pants and a button-down shirt made of a light fabric. Similar to what Diego was wearing, but not, like, matchy-matchy or anything.
Back in the living room with wet hair and a strong desire not to fuck this up, Wylie was suddenly nervous.
This was a date, right? Of sorts. Should he, like, hold the car door open for Diego and shit?
Or would Diego find that emasculating? With his past boyfriends, they’d mostly focused on who could get their clothes off the fastest, not courtship, so this was all new to him too.
“Should we go?” Wylie asked.
“Yeah, but we can take the long way? I don’t want to get there too early.”
Wylie nodded and grabbed the handle of vodka. “Do they drink?” he asked. A smile tugged at the corner of Diego’s mouth.
“Yeah, they drink.”
“Cool, cool.”
Diego stood and handed over Charlene’s key fob.
Wylie would drive; that was settled. He was still locking up his trailer while Diego was climbing inside the passenger side of his car, so he didn’t have the opportunity to open the door for him, which was probably for the best. He didn’t want to do too much, too soon.
Wylie was pleased to find Diego had linked his own phone to the car’s sound system, which Wylie insisted they keep connected as he gently probed Diego for more information about his family.
They were a tight-knit group with his grandmother, now deceased, having had four sisters, each with children of their own, which meant a lot of aunts, uncles, and first and second cousins.
“Just call anyone older than you tío or tía, and you’ll be fine,” Diego said.
“Do you speak Spanish?” Wylie asked.
“A little. I got better at it in prison, since a lot of the guys in the kitchen only spoke Spanish, but I never actually studied it or anything.”
“Is that where you worked?”
“Yeah, line cook. I mainly worked the grill station but I did front-of-house stuff too.”
“Do you like it? Being in the kitchen, I mean?” Wylie asked.
“More than laying floors. I wouldn’t mind having my own restaurant someday. A sandwich shop or a diner, something chill and not too fancy. I think I’d be better off running something myself, instead of having a boss.”
“Sounds cool. You totally should. Bet Frank could get you set up with something.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’d rather do it on my own, though.”
“Stubborn.”
“Just a little.”
Wylie caught him smiling again. He liked this laid-back version of Diego, one who didn’t have his walls up or take every comment the wrong way. One who talked about his future plans with optimism.
They took the route along the beach to kill time. Diego said it had been a while since he’d been this way and marveled at how much it had changed.
“Yeah, they bulldozed all those cute little beach houses to build this.” Wylie pointed out one of the many monstrosities that blocked the view of the water for everyone else, and usually restricted beach access too.
“Progress,” Diego said with sarcasm.
Frank and his family lived over in Madeira Beach, in a ranch-style house with a big yard that backed up to the Intercoastal.
There were cars parked everywhere on the street, but none dared to encroach on his perfect expanse of lawn.
Wylie parked farther down the road, figuring they could hoof it the rest of the way.
It would give him a chance to hit his vape and hopefully settle his nerves.
Before getting out of the car, Diego laid a hand on his forearm, turned to him and said, “Hey, thanks for coming with me today. I really do appreciate it.”