Page 44 of Jackrabbit

“Alright.” He pushed the gate of the trailer up and latched it just as the rain picked up. It was only practical. The place was on the way, Coltdidneed to eat, and Beau was running on nothing but a protein shake now himself. “But you're having chicken and black beans.”

They opened the doors of the truck, and the sky opened up properly. Colt paused with his hand on the handle, tipped his face up into the downpour, and grinned. The first monsoon rain in three weeks. The heat broke, a cool, wet breeze shifting Beau’s shirt.

Beau watched water run down Colt's throat and told himself to look away.

Chapter 26

By nine the next morning, it was very clear that the soreness Beau had predicted was kicking in. Of course he tried to hide it, but four hours into his workday, Colt was turning to look at things with his whole torso. It would have been funny if it weren't for the fact that Colt was compensating so much he was fixing to make things worse when the rest of his muscles got overworked.

At ten, after he'd watched Colt holding the back of his own neck and rolling his shoulders while he hissed, Beau decided he had to do something about it. He pulled himself up from where he'd been leaning into the engine bay of a 1970 Fastback and wiped his hands on his rag. He tucked it in his pocket and unzipped his coveralls as he headed across the shop to where Colt was cleaning the tools the others had been using all morning.

“You use that compress like I told you to?” He leaned his hip against the workbench. Colt twisted his whole body to look at him. “I'll take the fact that you just turned like Batman as a no.”

“You watch Batman?” Colt narrowed his eyes. “Kinda pictured you as a Clint Eastwood type of guy.”

“Mhmm.” Beau crossed his arms. “Answer the question, Rourke.”

Colt lowered his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. “It didn't hurt so bad last night. And I was so tired, I just…went to sleep?”

The right thing to do would be to send him home with strict care instructions. Ice. Heat. Ibuprofen.

“Come on, boy.” He sighed and slipped off the arms of his coveralls, tying them around his waist as he walked away.

Colt would follow. Beau didn't bother checking.

When they reached Beau's office, he shut the door and opened the bottom drawer on his desk to pull out a jar of tiger balm. “Sit down. Chest against the chair.”

“Yessir, Bossman,” Colt agreed.

Beau dropped the balm on the desk and went into the bathroom attached to his office to wash his hands, and by the time he came back, Colt was settled on the chair with his back to Beau.

Shirtless.

Hell.

Beau had seen Colt in torn-up shirts he insisted were clothes. He'd seen glimpses of his front when he wiped his face with his hem. Even the way he pushed Colt until he was dripping sweat showed a lot through soaked fabric.

Still, after the past two days, nothing really could have prepared Beau for seeing Colt spread out over Beau's office chair without a stitch above his waistband. They'd spent months honing Colt’s body, and it showed in every defined muscle, in the strong back leading to a trim waist. The kind of back it was nice to look at from above, writhing and—

Beau cleared his throat and shook his head, picking up the balm so he could open the jar. “This one bites,” he warned as he approached and took some in his hand. “But sit through it, and it'll make things a whole lot better.”

“It smells like spicy VapoRub,” Colt said as he wiggled into a more comfortable position.

“Mhmm. Now hold still.”

He rubbed the balm between his hands and settled them at the base of Colt’s neck. Dug his thumbs in and ran them up to Colt’s skull. Well used to the feeling by now, Beau welcomed the slight cold burn of the balm as he worked it into Colt's traps and upper lats.

Colt, of course, was not prepared. It was clear he was trying to stay still, but as Beau dug the heel of his palm in, Colt shifted.

Beau paused. “Hold still.”

“Sorry,” Colt said.

They continued, Colt trying not to squirm as Beau sought out knots and tightness. He was working his thumbs into a particularly nasty knot—nearly had it, too. Just a bit more. The knot loosened, and Colt gave a gasp. His back rose and fell quickly just once, and Beau paused before moving on.

He'd just released another one and gotten that same little gasp, but this gasp was followed by a breathy, whispered, “Fuck.”

Heat slipped down Beau's spine. He took the quietest breath he could manage and moved on, but Colt was squirming again, and Beau was on edge. He grabbed the scruff of Colt’s neck and squeezed, gentle but firm, and Colt sucked in a tight inhale.