Page 27 of Keep

“It means you’ve never slept with a woman.”

“No. Shelby and I had a sex life. But she was the only person I’ve ever been with. Period.” Hank set his knife down and met Chad’s eyes. “I’ve never been to bed with a man.”

Chad pointed a fry at him. “That’s still pretty hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you’ve been single for three years. Why would you wait once you’re single?”

Hank’s jaw tightened. “Well—I, uh—I have work. I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to get laid?”

The bluntness made Hank flinch, and Chad immediately regretted his tone. But he needed to understand. He’d been down this road—men who said one thing and meant another, men who hid behind good manners until it was too late to protect yourself.

Hank set his fork down and looked at Chad with an expression so unguarded it made Chad’s chest ache.

“What if I told you I was scared?”

The honesty landed like a fist. Chad thought about Hank at BJ’s on Tuesday—the Nationals cap pulled low, the nervous energy, the bourbon clutched like a lifeline. He thought about Hank in the gallery an hour ago, the way he’d glanced at the security camera when Chad took his hand.

He’s not hiding something. He’s hiding from something.

“Maybe,” Chad said quietly. “But a man’s libido is a beast.”

“Tell me about it. My hands have seen plenty of action.” Hank gestured to Chad’s plate, desperate to change the subject. “Give me a bite of that burger.”

They swapped plates without discussion. Hank took a large bite of the PBB Burger, and his eyes rolled back.

“Oh, yeah. That’s fucking good.”

Chad laughed—couldn’t help it. The profanity coming out of that polite mouth, that careful beard.

“What?” Hank asked, still chewing.

“You. Cursing.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t. I like it.” Chad cut into Hank’s meatloaf, taking a generous bite. Rich and savory. “It contradicts the whole polite gentleman persona. Gives me a glimpse of the real man in there.”

He reached across the table and wiped a blob of peanut butter from Hank’s lip with his thumb, then brought it to his own mouth and sucked it clean.

Hank’s pupils dilated.

“You keep doing that,” Hank said, his voice dropping, “and I won’t be a virgin much longer. I might squirt in my pants just watching you.”

“Sounds hot.”

“Not in public. And not in a restaurant. It’s inappropriate.”

“Ah, the gentleman returns.”

Hank picked up his fork, using food as a reset. They were quiet for a moment—the clatter of dishes, a siren somewhere on 14th Street, the couple two tables over arguing about parking.

Chad watched him eat. The way his throat worked when he swallowed. The silver at his temples catching the patio lights.

Virgin, forty, scared. And he kissed you like he’d been practicing in his sleep.