“Fine. Good. Yeah. Thanks.”
Poor kid. He felt like shit, thinking the type of thoughts he had been having watching him play. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re out. Breathe.”
“Sorry. That was just way tighter than I expected.”
He eased into the zipper of traffic, waving at Big John Peterson on his way. “Yeah? This been a problem for a while?”
“Ever since my grandfather died.” Zach shrugged. “Maybe longer. It’s a weird place.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” The words slipped out, because he’d said them so many times.
“Thanks. He was a crusty old butthead.” Zach chuckled, the sound dry as a bone.
“Most grandpas are, right?”
“I guess?” Zach sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
Okay, yeah. He could take a hint. He drove, letting the music fill the empty spaces. He’d get some food into Zach and it would make him feel better. A full belly was always far better for decision-making. And he needed to know what he was walking into. He was about to wade into a raft of shit, and if he knew anything, he knew that family shit was the deepest and the stinkiest.
That never came off.
Somehow, this was more personal than just doing his duty as a deputy. He was going to pretend that it wasn’t because he’d wanted to fuck Zach or that he felt like a slimeball either. This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to end up, to be honest, and even though he was doing a good deed, his balls protested a little bit. Good thing he wasn’t controlled by hormones and shit.
That got him to chuckling, and he fought not to let the sound out.
“What?” Zach opened one eye and rolled it toward him
“Best laid plans, that’s all. I was going to stun you with my sexy self.”
“You’re still pretty hot.”
He knew better. Zach was the hot one, with or without his fiddle, who’d come onto him to get out of a shit situation, and he couldn’t take advantage of someone like that. He could help, and he would. Colton liked to think he was a good guy. “Yeah, right.”
“Seriously. You’re fine. I just—I feel like shit for this, but I had to get out. Ihadto!” Zach still clutched the bag he’d carried like he’d wither without it.
Colton reached out and patted Zach’s shoulder, telling himself he didn’t feel a flare of interest. “And you did. We’ll figure it out. Okay? I got you.”
“Thanks.” He caught Colton’s hand, pressing it between both of his for a moment before letting go. “I mean it.”
The first days of the fair, Colton hadn’t been shy about his interest. If Zach had been waiting for someone to help him, Colton served himself up on a platter. He still felt a bit foolish, being manipulated the way he had, but if he’d been in Zach’s position, Colton probably would’ve done the same thing.
“You’re welcome. I hate seeing someone being taken advantage of.”
“Yeah.” Zach’s cheeks went pink. “You’re a good guy. Really.”
He hadn’t meant to point out that Zach used him, but being tricked like that still stung. “I try.”
They pulled into the diner’s lot and parked. “Come on, kiddo. Greg’s on his way, but he’ll sit at the counter. I want to hear your story and get your belly full.”
“Not a kid,” Zach muttered, but he followed Colton eagerly enough, his stomach rumbling.
Zach probably had seen too much to be called a kid, but so had Colton. His life wasn’t Housewives of Whitebark County material. Not even a little. “Come on, dinner awaits. Everything’s better with pancakes and coffee.”
“Yeah? Is that cop theory?”
Colton smiled. The kid was definitely not going to fall apart. “That would be doughnuts, which come to think of it, are cake-type things with a sweet glaze. So, yes. Totally cop theory.” Go him with keeping a straight face.
Zach actually grinned, and he slid into the booth Colton pointed out.
