Page 42 of The Bartender Special

Was there a saying about big hands or was it big feet that equaled a big⁠—

“Benny.”

Jack interrupted his thoughts, but not the blood flow that sent heat to Benny’s cheeks on the wings of a swift, panicked bird in flight.

“I-I don’t know if opening a door is going to convince anyone we’re that in love,” Benny tried, matching his volume. “I think the table might have heard you growl when I signed us up for the parade.”

Jack didn’t comment but he did guide Benny to the passenger’s side of the truck, all smiles.

“Oh, sweet cheeks, be thankful I was more growl than bite with that one.”

Imagining the bartender biting him made that panicked bird flap even harder.

He could hear Felicity and Marcus getting closer and knew there was no way he could keep them from seeing what had to be Crayola’s newest shade of Hell coloring his cheeks.

Loudly, he thanked his pretend beau and tucked into the truck with his phone out and in his face.

No one called out to him or asked him to participate in any more small-town activities.

No one talked to him at all until Jack was sitting behind the steering wheel.

The loud part didn’t come first, but his hand did.

Jack stretched across the cab, hand moving past Benny’s face with a slow yet steady speed. Startled, Benny dropped his phone. He met Jack’s eye as Jack followed his own hand.

Then Jack’s face was only inches from the heat of Mordor.

“What are you—” he started but Jack was quick with a smirk.

“I’m helping you with your seatbelt, sweet cheeks.”

True to his word, he pulled the strap from over Benny’s right shoulder and across his chest.

A helpful gesture that Benny assumed was for Marcus and Felicity who must have been looking. However, that gesture somehow became slow.

Too slow.

Jack slid the belt across Benny’s chest without any space between them. It rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and perfectly lined up with his nipple underneath.

It hardened.

Jack slowed even more.

Benny felt that heat start to fall south of his waist.

This time it wasn’t a metaphorical bird who panicked.

He swatted Jack’s hand away and took his seatbelt destiny within his own hands.

“I can put my own seatbelt on, thank you very much,” he hurried. “And I’m sure that Felicity and Marcus won’t suspect anything if I’m the one to do it.”

As the click sounded, Benny thought about putting on a show for the onlookers so it looked like he was teasing Jack.

But there was no Marcus or Felicity around.

Jack settled into his seat, smirk still on display.

“Oh, don’t worry, that one was for me.”