Chapter 2
Chapter two
Flirting
Rico pulled himself up out of the water.
The pool was heated, but the air around it wasn’t.
He made a dash for his towel. Laughter echoed behind him.
He turned with an automatic glare, only to find Dillon had wheeled himself out to the patio.
“It’s not funny. It’s freezing, man.” Rico continued scowling, but it was hard when Dillon stared at him as if daring Rico to play with him.
“Well, damn, Rico. You’re not wearing clothes or anything. What do you expect?”
Rico wrapped the towel around his waist to hide his barely-there swimsuit. He’d never felt self-conscious like that before. He was proud of how bold he was, but faced with Dillon’s challenge, he wasn’t sure where he stood. “Yeah? Well, you can’t swim in jeans, man.”
“I can’t swim at all.”
Rico glanced over him. His legs may not work too well, but his shoulders and arms did. “I doubt that. Wanna try?”
Dillon shook his head but glanced over at the water.
“Maybe when it’s not so fucking cold?” Rico added.
That comment managed to get a quick smile from Dillon before he looked away. “Davey says they’ll be bringing out chicken to throw on the grill.”
“Sounds good. I’m starving.”
The air around them stilled. Slowly, Dillon turned his head. When Dillon was looking dead-straight at him, Rico wiggled his eyebrows. Dillon burst out laughing in a riot of sound. Rico’s heart picked up a quicker beat.
Tyler opened the slider and walked out. “Geez, it’s seriously cold. Go put some clothes on already, Rico.”
“Aww...you know you don’t want to cover this up.” Rico ran a hand down his chest.
Tyler laughed, but Davey stepped out behind him at that moment, carrying a tray of meat to grill. “Knock it off, Rico. Ty’s right. Go get dressed.”
“Don’t be so serious man!” Rico winked as he passed them, heading into the house.
His long-running flirtations with Tyler were a constant joke, and it was fun poking at Davey.
“Later,” he threw over his shoulder with another lascivious wink.
He heard Dillon snort and wanted to see his face with that humor on it, but the guys were not wrong. His balls were about to drop off.
He jumped in the shower first, turning the knob to hot. When he sufficiently warmed up, he hurried to change, pulling on sweats and thick socks and a sweatshirt. For good measure, he pulled a knit cap over his wet hair. Much warmer, he headed back outside.
Dinner was a bit more subdued. Rico didn’t want to scare Dillon off. The guy was probably straight, so friendship was the better option. If he wanted to cultivate that, and his erratic heartbeat told him he did, then the best move was to chill a little.
By the time they finished up, Davey and Tyler were exchanging heated looks. Rico gave Dillon a questioning glance behind Davey’s back, but he only shrugged. Tyler grabbed empty plates and followed Davey into the house. They didn’t come back.
“Where’d they go?” Rico asked Dillon.
“Knowing those two? Probably off fucking.”
“What?” Rico was stunned at the word fucking coming out of Dillon’s sweet mouth more than the thought that Davey and Tyler might actually be doing the dirty deed somewhere inside.
“Yeah, it’s known to happen.”
Rico laughed and slid closer to Dillon. “Guess that leaves us.”
“Guess it does.” Dillon ducked his head, suddenly acting shy and adorable.
Rico took a drink of his water, hoping to hide his reaction behind the glass. He was sure his desire was lingering in his eyes. He pulled back his smile and swallowed. “So...” Regaining his composure, he set the glass down in front of him. “You used to ride?”
Dillon’s eyes widened.
Rico held his breath.
Had he made a mistake?
No, he hadn’t. Dillon relaxed, dropping his shoulders. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. People don’t normally ask me that.”
“Why not?”
Dillon looked at his lap and held up his hand as if it were obvious. “The accident.”
“Well, I don’t really know what happened.”
Dillon stared at him with an incredulous expression, but Rico wasn’t letting it go.
“Care to fill me in?” He reached across the small space between them and grabbed Dillon’s hand. “Seriously, I want to know.”
Dillon didn’t pull his hand away. His eyes scanned Rico’s face. What did he see? Curiosity? Concern? Rico had all of those things and more.
After a few breaths, Dillon tilted his head to the side.
Maybe he couldn’t figure Rico out. Nothing new there—who could?
Then he cleared his throat. “Okay. Short version—bad wreck on the track. Now I can’t walk.
Can’t stand. Can’t ride.” His inflection sounded like not riding was the worst of the deal. And wouldn’t Rico feel the same?
“I can’t imagine. That’s every rider’s worst nightmare, and you lived it.”
“Still do. Every fucking day.” That was when he pulled his hand away.
Rico felt the cold space left behind in his empty hand and his whole body. He wanted that hand back. He wanted so much more than that. “But what about riding? Were you good? Like Davey-good?”
He gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod. “Some say I was. I could have been...” He glanced away. The longing reflected on his face. His blue eyes turned impossibly darker.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Just didn’t see the need to sidestep the topic. I mean. I live and breathe racing. So does everyone in this house, so—”
“I’m going to call my ride.” He pulled a cell phone out of a side pocket on his chair that Rico hadn’t noticed.
“Wait, man. You don’t have to rush off. I can talk about something else.”
Dillon flipped his phone around in his hand. He stared down at it but didn’t make whatever call he needed to make. And Rico was hyperaware of every movement Dillon made. Every flinch, every glance.
“Rico, you’re nice. It’s not the topic. I’m tired. Being out late wears me down.”
Rico wasn’t totally convinced. “I get it. I-I don’t know.
Those two.” He thumbed toward the main house.
“They disappear a lot if you know what I mean?” Rico wiggled his eyebrows, and Dillon obliged him with a chuckle.
“That leaves me here by myself. It’s boring. Want to do something? Watch a movie?”
“Don’t you need to get to bed? I know you start early.”
“Yeah, but not yet. I won’t be able to sleep now anyway.” He didn’t say it was because thoughts of Dillon ran through his head and had his dick too hard.
“How about we watch an episode or something rather than a movie? That’s called compromise.”
“I know compromise.”
“Most racers don’t. Trust me, I know.” Dillon smirked and wheeled himself backward away from the table.
Rico opened the door but didn’t move to help Dillon inside.
He thought that would feel like helping someone who was perfectly capable of walking.
Dillon got around fine. Davey’s house was accommodating.
He’d had people fix the slider so Dillon could easily roll over the tracks. If he wanted a push, he’d ask.
Rico followed Dillon into the living room. Dillon parked next to the couch. “You want to get out of that for a bit?” Rico nodded to the furniture.
“Yeah, okay. Will you hold the chair, so I don’t end up on the floor?”
“Sure.” Rico got behind him as he maneuvered between the coffee table and the sofa.
He held tight to the handles while Dillon lifted himself up and over and onto the couch.
Rico was a bit surprised he used his right leg, putting pressure on it, before sitting back on the couch.
Not that he’d been around for long, but Rico had never seen Dillon out of the chair.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Rico moved the chair out of the way and sat down beside Dillon.
“Uh, I guess.” He clasped his hands together in a nervous gesture.
Rico pressed his thigh against Dillon’s. “How extensive is your injury?”
Dillon nodded. “Thought it’d be something like that.”
“You don’t have to talk about it, sorry. Let’s watch something.” He made a grab for the remote on the coffee table, but Dillon grabbed his arm, stilling him.
“I don’t mind. I don’t usually talk about it much. No one normally asks.”
“I’m asking.”
“You are.” Dillon stared at him and wrinkled his nose.
“Don’t try and figure me out. I don’t even know.”
“You’re bold. Most racers are, but you go beyond that.”
Rico shrugged. “I suspect you did too at some point.”
Dillon chuckled again. It was throaty and warm and an altogether pleasing sound. “I’m sure. I was a handful. My folks couldn’t slow me down. Davey’s dad took me under his wing and got me racing. That was before Davey. He’s significantly younger, you know.”
“I didn’t.” That meant Rico was younger than Dillon too. Rico was probably closer to Davey’s age. Not one of those young starter-boys like that Bryce kid. Rico had been racing a while. Dillon didn’t look that much older than Davey, though. “How old are you, old man?”
“Old man? Hey, now!” He bumped his leg against Rico’s. It was a mild bump—barely there. It showed he had some movement at least.
“So, the injury?”
“It was bad, but not the worst. I guess. It depends on how you look at it.” He let out a loud guffaw. “Not being able to ride is the worst of it. I’ll never have the strength in my hips and legs to do that. And I’m only forty-one.”
“Huh, how about that? I’m thirty-one at the end of the year.” Ten years difference between them. Was that a lot? Too much? Did it matter?
“Really? You look more like twenty-six or seven. No older than twenty-eight.”
Rico was glad he was looking. “You look in your thirties.”
“Maybe it’s the racing aspect? We do take care of ourselves.”
“You still do?”
“Fuck, man. Of course. It’s beyond a habit at this point. I even do cardio in a special chair I also use for racing once in a while.”
Rico gave him a huge smile. He could tell Dillon loved racing, going fast, and the slight danger of it all the same way Rico did. The injury wouldn’t have taken that away. “It’s in the blood.”
“What is?”
“Racing.”