Holden licked his lips and did that thing again where he bit down on the bottom one. Bryce reached up, ready to draw it out of his mouth but moved too slow. It was already free by the time his hand got there, but he pressed his thumb against Holden’s lip anyway, pulling it down just enough to expose his teeth. Holden didn’t stop him, but the things Bryce wanted to do next—or have done to him, more fittingly—were not appropriate for the sidewalk, so he pulled his hand back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m gonna text you later tonight,” he said.
Holden studied him, but it was like the proximity to the shop had drawn the man back into his shell. Instead of words, he nodded and turned away, walking the last half of the block alone. Bryce waited until Holden had disappeared into the shop to check his cell phone. He smiled to himself when he found Holden’s contact information saved, and a text message thread open and ready for him to start.
CHAPTER 3
Holden
Holden managedto get through the rest of his shift, letting the buzz of his tattoo machine drown out the sound of Merrick’s never-ending chatter. When he’d gotten back from lunch, Bryce had taken his bag and a spare key from Merrick and left. But that didn’t mean Holden was able to stop thinking about him. In fact, quite the opposite. He’d been so distracted by thoughts of Merrick’s younger brother that he barely noticed when Riggs, his boss and the owner of the shop, showed up, boyfriend in tow. Riggs and Smith said hello to everyone before going upstairs, and Holden and Merrick both glanced at the ceiling as soon as the door closed.
Riggs was a good boss and an even better tattooer. It was Riggs’s best friend who had approached him first about taking a booth at the shop. Damon said Riggs was a stubborn son of a bitch who was ready to bring in some staff but wasn’t ready to do the work to get there. Damon had apparently scoured the city to collect portfolios which he then dropped in front of his best friend until Riggs made the decision for himself on expanding the shop.
Holden and Merrick were the two lucky artists, but there was an empty spot tucked into the back corner of the shop still waiting to be filled. Because of their location, the shop didn’t get a ton of walk-in clientele, but it wasn’t unheard of. Smith had been a walk-in, and that had turned into much more than a repeat client. Stranger things had and would continue to happen.
Like Bryce, he told himself.
He had no business flirting with Merrick’s little brother. It was one thing to go out and fuck a stranger, another to fuck the sibling of your coworker. Holden didn’t even particularlylikeMerrick. He didn’t dislike the man, but the talking really was over the top sometimes, and Bryce, while also unable to quiet down for more than a minute at a time, resonated a little differently with Holden. It was possible, Holden thought, that he could maybe quiet Bryce down long enough to kiss him. If Bryce texted him, which would probably be a bad idea. Because of Merrick.
But did that really matter?
He thought about the pros and cons through the rest of his shift and made the pointed decision to ignore the buzz of an incoming text message when he said goodnight to Merrick. He didn’t look at his phone until he was home, undressed from the day and fresh out of the shower. If he had any luck at all, Merrick would be home and Bryce would be busy and Holden’s return text would go unanswered.
He finally read the message from Bryce, groaning and banging his head into the wall as he processed the words.
Bryce
Send me your address.
Bold of you to assume I want to see you.
Bryce responded almost immediately.
Of course you do.
Holden did want to see him. Unfortunately.
What are you asking for?
What are you offering?
Wasn’t that the question of the hour?
Just a fuck, Bryce.
The response—again—came quickly.
What’s your address?
Holden sent it and then turned his phone upside down on the arm of his couch.
It took over an hour for Bryce to get there, a sharp knock on the door announcing the other man’s arrival. Holden opened the door and drew in a quick breath. In less than six hours, he’d somehow forgotten how handsome Bryce was, but he was grateful for the separation because without Merrick right beside him, it was easier to see Bryce as his own person.
“I made it,” Bryce said, leaning against the door frame.
“What did you tell your brother?”
Holden stepped out of the way to let Bryce inside, then closed and locked the door behind him. Bryce looked down at the rack of sneakers beside the door and toed off his own shoes, kicking them toward the wall before grinning up at Holden.
