7. Indiana
SEVEN
INDIANA
My head feels light and airy as I blow off steam with the guys. The drinks are flowing freely, and the energy is good, bringing me back to many nights almost twenty years ago. With almost no bars in town, this little chicken wings restaurant is a good substitute when you just want to put a few away.
“You did so damn good finding Oakley, Low,” Kit says. “His plans are badass.”
Lowen smiles, swishing his martini glass slightly. “I was lucky that he’s heard of me.”
“Hasn’t everyone in your industry?” Jerryn asks.
“Technically Oakley isn’t in my industry. Not to sound snobby, but there’s usually a divide between high-end designers and the contractors who do the heavy lifting. I was unusual in wanting to stay connected so I could remove obstacles instead of having a go-between assistant.” He tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. “It just so happens Oakley is a fan of high design.”
“I think he’s a fan of the designer too.” Ridley winks. “Anyone else catch th e
way he watches Lowen?”
“Sure have.” Bane chuckles. “His mouth practically waters like a cartoon character.”
Lowen waves the comments away, looking bored. “He’s not my type.”
“Why?” Jerryn asks. “Because he’s blue collar?”
Lowen scoffs. “Obviously not. I’m not a jerk.” He glances away and then back again. “He’s just…” Lowen’s pretty eyes turn glossy, but he blinks the emotion away. “If I can’t tell you guys the truth, who can I tell?”
I rub his back. “You can talk to us.”
He nods, offering a slight smile. “He scares me a little. He’s exactly the kind of guy I like.”
I nod in understanding. “It’s just too soon, right?”
Lowen nods, gazing at his drink. “Right. The divorce…” He pauses, shaking his head. “It did a number on me. The only man with access to my heart again will be the coroner when I’m dead.”
“Jesus, Low,” Kit says. “It’s not like that.”
“It is.” He straightens his shoulders. “Fuck love. Oakley is an important contact for me here in my new life. I’m not risking that for a few nights in bed before we tire of each other or he wants more.”
Damn. And I thought I was a tough one.
“Alain is a dick,” Ridley says, leaning forward to grab Low’s hand. “He ruined something great, and I don’t blame you for having your defenses up.”
“Thanks,” Lowen says softly. “I never wanted the package he sold me. I knew my independence was more important than some fabled nonsense about happily ever after, but I fell for it. I can’t go anywhere in that damn city without someone asking me about Alain, or remembering the dates and the romance at certain landmarks, or the very public fights that would be all over the industry mags the next day. He ruined Paris for me. He ruined love.”
Is there anything harder to stomach than seeing Lowen sad? Maybe just those damn homeless animal commercials.
Bane waves to get our server’s attention. She hurries over.
“Hey, guys.”
“Hey, Leslie,” Bane says. “Can we get another martini, extra dirty?”
She smiles, glancing at Lowen. “Absolutely.”
Lowen chuckles darkly, leaning back in his chair. “New topic please. How did Salem do on his first day?”
All eyes turn to me, so I guess now is a good time to come clean. “Fine. He seems to be motivated and has a lot of initiative.” I pause as Leslie returns and drops the drink off in front of Lowen.
“His energy is good,” Kit says.
“Yeah. So, um, he’s coming over tonight after this.”
Ridley cackles, slapping his thigh before turning to Bane and Jerryn. “I believe that means I won the bet?”
Bane blows out a breath while Jerryn rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” Bane says. “Twenty bucks.”
“Each,” Ridley says.
“You guys fucking bet on me and Salem getting together?”
“Not me,” Kit says. “Too obvious.”
“I didn’t bet either,” Lowen says.
I narrow my eyes at the other three. “Really?”
“In our defense,” Ridley says, “it’s your fault for suggesting the ‘no fucking employees’ rule. It was low hanging fruit, but these two thought you’d hold out longer.”
“Gee, thanks.” I slam back the last of my whiskey, enjoying the burn as it spreads through me. “I have no defense. Salem is… determined. I figure we’ll fuck a few times, get it out of our system, and move on .”
Lowen gives me a sympathetic look while Kit grins at me.
“What?” I complain.
“Dude,” Kit says. “You do realize you’re totally setting yourself up with that kind of talk?”
“How?”
The guys exchange looks until Jerryn speaks up. “It’s really obvious that Salem is exactly your type.”
“Your type on steroids,” Bane adds.
“And he’s a dog with a bone,” Ridley says. “He doesn’t seem easily forgettable.”
“It’s just sex, guys.”
Kit snorts, cutting himself off and focusing on his half-empty beer when I glare at him.
“I think you have to be careful,” Lowen says softly. “He might not go quietly when you’re bored with him.”
“Or…” Kit prompts, bumping Lowen’s arm with his.
“Or…” Lowen continues. “He might be the one to finally tame Indiana Hart.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Come on, guys. I’m forty years old, and I’ve met a lot of pretty twinks in my time. If it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not gonna.”
Ridley turns to Bane and Jerryn. “Double or nothing?”
“Dick,” I grumble, but I’m holding back my own laughter.
If I’m honest, the shit they’re giving me is on point and deserved. It’s been a long running joke that someday, someone is finally gonna bring me to my knees and make me trade in my fuckboi lifestyle. Is that person Salem? Unlikely. He’s just a little fun for a while. I’ve got way too much shit going on to focus on more than physical pursuits.
“Anyway,” I say, “if the room is rocking, don’t bother knocking.”
“Lucky me,” Kit complains. “My room is right next to yours. Guess it’s earplugs tonight. ”
Grinning, I lean back in my chair. My cock twitches slightly as thoughts of taking pretty Salem apart dance in my head. What does he sound like when he succumbs to pleasure? Will my name on his lips sound as sweet? Only one way to find out.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll to my contacts. As it rings, I realize the guys are silent, all of them focused on me. I just shake my head.
“Hello, Indy,” Salem answers.
“Hey. You ready to come over?”
“I most certainly am. Do I need to bring supplies or are you stocked up?”
Damn. It’s actually been so long I probably do need to reload. “You can bring some with you.”
“Perfect. Address?”
“I’ll text you. Thirty minutes enough time?”
“Yep. See you soon, Indy,” he says, a soft almost-purr in his voice.
Jesus, this man.
“See you soon.”
I end the call, pushing my chair back to stand. “Well, the twink won’t fuck himself. See ya.”
Their laughter and catcalls follow me out of the restaurant. I’m close enough to walk home in less than five minutes, which gives me enough time to straighten my room up a little and take a quick shower. My dick has been half hard since I called him, and the anticipation of getting my hands on him mixed with the whiskey I drank is a heady combo.
I’m just finishing making the bed when I hear the doorbell. A smile spreads across my face.
Showtime.