“Yeah, I know. But even though I haven’t been lying to you for years, you haven’t exactly been in the right head space to hear I like the occasional dick, so I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
“I’m in the right head space now?” I accept my fresh beer and take a calming gulp.
“Not even close.”
“Why open that door then?” I side-eye him suspiciously.
“I told you, I haven’t hooked up with a guy since moving here. Gotta scratch that itch.”
Horny bastard.I want to be pissed at this latest “omission” from someone who’s supposed to be my friend, but after the past several days I just can’t find the energy.
I roll my eyes with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. Just not that one.” I nod in Hayden’s direction.
“Yes, that one.” He nudges my arm with an elbow, nearly causing the beer in my hand to slosh out of the glass. “Guy looks like he needs a good fuck as bad as you do. You can be my wingman.” He waves at Hayden, who’s eyes dart briefly to me before landing skeptically on Deacon.
“Trust me, it’s futile.”
“He’s straight?” Deacon scratches his headcomically.
“No clue.” I shake my head slowly back and forth, careful to keep my eyes focused on my beer instead of him. “But he’s my jailer. And an ice prick. He’ll probably hate you as much as he hates me.”
“Ooh, let’s find out.” Deacon shoots Hayden a coy little smile as he slides over a chair, leaving one empty between us. His invitation is clear, but it’s not until I glance up to meet Hayden’s lingering eyes that he starts heading our way.Fuck me…
He’s hesitant, unsure of whether he’s making the right decision by coming over. I know he isn’t, but I can’t bring myself to scowl at him and warn him away like I would’ve a few days ago. Part of me thinks he knows that.
Rounding the corner, Hayden gives me a tight smile as Deacon pulls out the barstool to my right. He extends his hand after helping my jailer get seated. “Deacon.”
“Hayden.” He takes it, and I grind my teeth together remembering how he refused mine when we first met. I’m not surprised to learn it’s only me he’s cold toward, but I sort of hoped he wouldn’t warm right up to Deacon.
“Can I order you your signature drink?” my horny friend asks as I swallow the urge to gag.Can’t he pick a different line?Frosty just stares at him blankly.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have one.” Deacon drops his jaw and looks at me over the top of Hayden’s head as if to suggest that’s my fault. “Everyone needs a signature drink.”
“What’s yours?”
Deacon gives him a sly wink. “Three-Legged Monkey.”
I’m expecting him to snort, or scoff, or maybe even storm off. Instead, he laughs. Not some polite little chuckle to cover up the fact he’s secretly offended, which he should be, but a rich full-bellied laughthat makes my stomach tingle and has my chest feeling kind of warm.Fuck, that’s a nice sound.I hate that Deacon can pull it out of him.
“What’s his?” Frosty tilts his head in my direction, the only sign he’s given since sitting down that he even knows I’m here.
“It was a Magic Boner Iced Tea, but now I think it’s more like Blue Balls.” Deacon lifts his glass like he’s toasting me, proud of his little jab at my recent celibacy. Hayden isn’t in on that joke though and obviously interprets it as unresolved tension between the two of us given the way he traps his lips between his teeth and ducks his head, which doesn’t hide the rush of pink flooding his cheeks.
I roll my eyes, trying to pretend like my cock didn’t just perk up at the sight of that little blush.Traitorous bastard.
Hayden lifts his head and clears his throat. “Well, I don’t have a signature drink, yet. What do you suggest?”
Deacon pretends to study him, eyes traveling up and down his body with calculated precision. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “I got it. Slutty Nurse.”
Frosty crinkles his nose like he’s unsure of what to think. “What’s in it?”
“Cherry brandy and white crème de cacao.” Deacon smiles behind his beer.He thinks he’s reeling Frosty in.
“Why that one?”
“I bet you could use a little fun after helping people all day.” He doesn’t even try to hide the innuendo behind his words. “Plus, you smell like cherries.”
“Almonds.” I take a gulp of beer as two heads swing in my direction, hoping neither of them were paying enough attention to hear what I said.Idiot.Staring blankly toward the other end of the bar seems to fuel their confusion based on the silence growing around us, whichsuits me just fine. The longer they second guess themselves, the better the chance is that they’ll start to believe they didn’t hear anything.
