1. Warren #2
“Hi, Trev. You look great tonight.”
“I look great every night, darling.” He winks as his fingertips dust over my shoulder. “Private show or right here?”
“Do I get to talk to you longer if it’s private?”
His lips tilt into a smile. “Sure. Come on.”
Trevor takes me by the hand and leads me to the back of the bar, where there are three tiny rooms. He pulls me into the last one with an open door, and after closing it with an in-use sign, I settle into the single chair.
“Am I dancing or just talking?” Trevor stands near the small stereo system. His fingers hover over the power button as he waits for my reply.
“Both?”
Pulling out my wallet, I toss some bills on the table, and he nods.
After flicking a switch on the stereo, music filters into the room, and I watch Trevor dance.
I can’t say we’re actually close friends, but when I first met him here, he made me feel…
normal. Maybe even like he understood I wasn’t just another man looking at his near-naked body.
I’m a man with things on his mind, looking for someone to listen. Someone removed from Kissing Ridge and rodeo. Perhaps even someone to validate my mixed emotions with Dane Walker and rodeo. I’m sure it’s not healthy, but find me another form of therapy this enjoyable.
I stayed until closing that first time, and we had a drink together.
It’s an odd relationship. I enjoy watching him dance, but I want nothing sexual.
Trevor is like a private confessional away from family, and he might know me more than the closest people in my life.
It’s easier to talk to him than my real therapist, and I’m not sure why.
Maybe it’s the distance he has from Kissing Ridge.
Either way, I need him tonight.
“What’s bothering you, Warren?” he asks as he sways to the music.
“I lost again.”
He bends at the hips, his ass right in my face. “To the same guy? Mr. Blue Eyes?” Trevor chuckles as he stands. He runs his fingers through my hair. “You’re worked up, Warren.”
“Yeah. He’s…”
Trevor drops into the splits, then does this thing with his legs that makes me wonder if he has joints like those dolls that you twist in any direction, but they never break.
Sure, it’s sexy, but I prefer his conversation.
Yes, I leave money on the table, but only because I know he could make money in the crowd.
“I think you should talk to him. Feel him out. Sometimes these guys are all macho talk and can’t do the whole feelings thing.” He stands and undulates his hips. His fingers tease the waistband of his shorts.
“I don’t want to give him more ammunition. What if he’s not interested and mocks me more for that, as well as losing? God, I’d rather die.” My brain catches up to my words. “Not that I’m interested. He just…it’s frustrating, you know?”
So much. How can I even remotely entertain an attraction to the dickhead when he’s so goddamn cocky and rude all the time?
Trevor grabs the pole in the middle of the room, and for a moment, I’m enchanted by his strength and the way his muscles flex as he works the pole. He’s so strong and graceful. When the music ends, he struts to the front of my chair with his hands on his hips.
“Trust yourself, Warren. If he mocks you, then he’s a dick that deserves to be withered. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. You’re my sweetest visitor.” He pats my cheek before scooping up the cash on the table.
“I don’t know if I like being sweet. Dane wouldn’t want a sweet guy. He probably likes kinky shit that I don’t even know how to pronounce.”
Trevor laughs a full-body laugh. “You’re funny, Warren. Sexy and a cowboy. You’re a catch. His loss.”
I know he wants to get back to working the crowd. It’s where the money is, so I stand, and he offers me a hug.
“Thanks for listening again.”
“Anytime. I’m not just a pretty thing to look at, and you’re the only one in this place who knows that.” Trevor squeezes my arm again. “Don’t underestimate yourself, okay?”
We both exit the room, and with a quick kiss on my cheek, he darts off to another group of men while I leave, a little more frustrated than when I arrived.
On the highway home, I have more than enough time to keep thinking about Dane Walker and why he always wins. Why he gets under my skin, and why he just can’t seem to leave me alone. I’m my worst enemy when I can’t let things go.
Like when my brother accidentally let my rabbit out.
How do you not know it’s going to run away like that?
It happened years ago, and to be fair, he barely spoke when he joined our family.
I probably scared the crap out of him with the outright tantrum I threw.
I’ve mostly let it go, but when he gets on my nerves, I bring it up.
Because that’s what I do. Remind people when they fuck up so I don’t feel so bad about my own missteps.
Tonight it’s all Dane, and I wish I could get him out of my head.
My headlights catch the reflective strip of a warning cone, and I slow down. A truck has stopped on the shoulder with a horse trailer attached. The traffic cone is a sign for help, and as soon as I pull over, a familiar figure rounds from the front of the truck.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble at the same time his expression registers who has stopped to help.
“Keep driving, Burke. I’ll wait for the next vehicle.”