23. Chapter 23
Colt’s knuckles burned into Beau’s stomach, the tips of his fingers just barely dipping into his waistband.
The kid flirted with everyone. Beau knew that.
But as Beau looked down into Colt’s eyes, they widened, and Beau had a front row seat to see the way his pupils dilated.
The way his breath quickened, his neck flushing a pretty pink.
Christ. Colt wanted him, didn’t he? Every time Beau had seen Colt’s neck flush just like this after Beau had praised him, he’d probably been having a very different reaction than Beau had assumed.
Beau reached down and wrapped his hand around Colt’s wrist so he could pry it off his coveralls. He stepped into Colt’s space and lowered his voice. “Careful, boy.”
Colt’s lips parted, and his pulse spiked against Beau’s thumb. He looked scared, and he looked turned on about it. And Beau…
Liked that.
“You two need a minute?” Joyce asked, dry as dirt, and Beau dropped Colt’s wrist. The old crone was watching them with a shit-eating grin while she puffed on her cigarette. “Not that I’d mind a show.”
“Um, right.” Colt unfroze, bounding away like the jackrabbit Beau was always comparing him to. Twitchier than ever. “Just. Yep. Kidding. I'll—yeah. Drinks sound good, Joyce. I'll tell the guys.”
Then he was gone, and Beau was feeling kind of hot around the collar. Joyce laughed, and Beau flipped her off as he went back to his office. He shut his door and ran his hand down his lower face. This was about to get real messy real quick if he wasn't careful. Fuck. He had to be careful here.
Beau sat at his desk and drummed his fingers against it.
Of course he knew Colt was attractive. He wasn't fucking blind. But before this it had been a passing thought. Kid flirted with damn near everyone, but Beau had heard him talking about girls he'd been with around the guys. And he'd assumed.
Wrong, apparently. Now that he'd seen it, he was never going to unsee it. Colt wasn't straight, and he wanted Beau. And Beau needed to take a minute and admit to himself that the thought of Colt under his hands, small and strong, a contradiction wrapped in a pretty package, was appealing.
Which was so morally fucked that Beau was having trouble wrapping his head around it. It absolutely could not happen. Beau was his coach. His boss. Over a decade older. Pair that with the near-hero worship Colt had started this with, and you had a recipe for a moral shit storm.
But that didn't stop the way heat was pooling in his gut as he thought of how Colt’s eyes had gone dark and wanting. As he remembered the way Colt had sounded when he'd said he could be real pretty for him. On his knees, maybe.
Fuck.
For the rest of the day, every time he entered a room Colt was in, the boy found a reason to leave it.
Either Colt knew that Beau had figured him out, or he was embarrassed that his flirting had been so obvious Joyce had called him out.
Beau would put money on the latter. Colt was a lot of things, but observant wasn’t one of them.
He was probably tearing himself up about accidentally turning his own self on in front of Joyce.
Beau chewed his bottom lip as he changed and shut down the shop. Best not to think about that.
By the time he stepped into the bar, everyone else was already there. When he pulled open the door, he heard them shouting like a bunch of idiots as the smell of stale alcohol washed over him.
“There you are.” Joyce approached him the second he stepped inside. She hooked her arm through his and started pulling him toward the bar. “Your boy's been here an hour already. The way the others are dropping drinks in front of him, you'll be carrying him out later.”
“Joyce, behave.” Beau sighed as he squeezed between two groups sitting at the bar and flagged the bartender. “He's not my anything.”
Joyce laughed. “Oh, you think so? That's cute, Mercer.”
Beau ordered a whiskey and another martini for Joyce.
Then he turned and took a sip while he scanned the room for his group of miscreants.
He found them gathered around the pool tables, and they'd acquired some new faces.
A group of girls, all young and dolled up like they were somewhere other than the dive bar with a beer bottle chandelier.
His eyes found Colt’s right away. Mostly because Colt was already watching him. Wearing a tee that was too tight around his chest and shoulders now and low-slung jeans, he was leaning his ass against the pool table and bringing a half empty glass of clear liquid to his lips.
Beau took a too-big drink of cheap whiskey and it burned down his throat and into his stomach.