“Better,” John admitted, taking a sip of fresh cold beer. “I went back to my old boxing club this week.”
“Good for you,” Steph said, smiling happily at him, her warm brown eyes holding him. “It’s been a while since you’ve done that.”
He cocked his head to the side, surprised. “You can tell?”
“I see everything, honey. When will you two knuckleheads figure that out?”
He sincerely hoped she didn’t see everything, because he may have let his hands linger a little too long on Lawson’s shoulders when he passed him in the hallway today.
“Well, then you would’ve noticed I wasn’t wearing any boxers last Tuesday, and got laid on Thursday, ‘cause I had a pep in my step,” Samuels said flippantly, eyes on the football game playing on the screen above the bar.
John laughed, and Steph swiped a hand at the back of his head. “Gross.”
“Speaking of pep,” Samuels turned in his stool, dark green eyes riveted on him. “I’ve noticed you’re awfully peppy lately.”
He shrugged, swallowing down a large gulp of beer and hoping to hell his blush wasn’t showing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Steph hummed suspiciously. “We’ve all noticed, John. You’re more patient with Samuels’s bullshit, and even Tanya’s. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say to that woman, ‘I appreciate your feedback and will take it under consideration’.”
Samuels gasped dramatically, “You did not!?”
John rolled his head to the side and sent him a bland smile.
“You traitor!” Samuels exclaimed. “I can’t believe you caved!” “I did no such thing. Being civil to her a few times a week gets her off my floor and out of my department a hell of a lot faster than challenging her, and also less time with her floating around, critiquing my team or me at every turn, which is not something I care to endure anymore,” John said reasonably.
“Jamie,” Samuels said to the bartender, “Hand me back that beer I just bought him.”
John swiped the beer off the counter, chuckling. His eye caught the front door of the bar as it opened to reveal a striking black cowboy hat, followed by a line of cowboy hats. He turned quickly in his seat and saw Lawson stride in with Ava, Emily, and Reyes at his heels.
Lawson glanced toward the bar, and their eyes collided with the same force as one of their fantastic, knee-melting kisses, and John’s heart nearly stopped.
Fuck, this kid is ruining me.
Lawson was the epitome of a cowboy tonight, wearing almost the same outfit from the truck commercial, all black, down to his boots, except the outfit looked worn and molded to his figure like a second skin. And he had the inexplicable urge to slowly strip him with his teeth. He’d have him keep the hat on, though. Maybe the boots, too.
He flushed at the thought, and Lawson’s eyes darkened hungrily over him, licking his thick lower lip before strolling casually to the bar, the others behind him, laughing and clicking their boots. They, on the other hand, looked likesomething out of the playOklahoma. John would’ve laughed if the blood hadn’t been roaring in his ears as his cowboy approached.
His cowboy.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Stop, John. He’s not yours. He’s a fling.
It’s not gonna last. It’s not supposed to last.
It was only Friday night, and they had agreed to Saturdays only. But Jesus, Lawson looked good enough to drag into the dirty bar bathroom and…
He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck and attempting to duck away from Lawson’s scrutinizing gaze.
“Well, fuck me sideways, you guys just come from a rodeo? Do they even have rodeos in LA?” Samuels asked loudly, getting to his feet and clamping a hand on Lawson’s shoulder. “Dude, you need to stop putting the rest of us to shame. It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”
Lawson chuckled, and Reyes tilted his fancy, very clean white cowboy hat up at Samuels. “Lawson took us line dancing.”
John snorted a laugh into his bottle of beer.
Lawson shot him a hard look, a playful smile creeping up on his lips. “What? We can’t go line dancing?”
“No, sorry,” he said, quickly. “You guys know you look, well…”
