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As if cold water had been poured on him, Boomer takes a step back, a feat in such an enclosed space. He stops just short of shoving me away, but I can see in his eyes that he desperately wants to.
I nod in understanding as I zip up my slacks. I’ll have to worry about the mess later.
Stay in here, I mouth.
I take a step back, quickly realizing that we didn’t even bother shoving the door to the stall closed before we got down to business.
I freeze at the sight of who is standing in the room. I lock eyes with them, but his eyes are locked on the mirror, easily seeing who is standing behind me in the reflection.
Boomer swallows as he zips up his jeans, and surprisingly, he steps out of the stall with his head held high.
“You need to get your band changed,” Max says the second Boomer steps out of the stall. “They take that shit pretty seriously here. You have to change your band if you change your mind.”
Max walks out of the bathroom as if nothing happened.
I turn back to look at Boomer, the reflection in the mirror not enough to satisfy me.
“This shouldn’t—”
I hold up my hand to silence him.
“Don’t fucking say it,” I snap. “Deal with your regret on your own time. And while you’re at it, don’t forget you pulled me into that stall. You touched me first. So I don’t want any blame thrown in my direction.”
I leave the bathroom without another word, and, unsurprisingly, Boomer doesn’t try to stop me.
Chapter 13
Boomer
I didn’t bother looking for Ugly to get the keys to the SUV after leaving the restroom.
I went directly to the front and had Rosco call me a cab.
The hotel room doesn’t offer me the same comfort my room back at the clubhouse would. Leaving Hale-ish would be easy to explain to Ugly without having to go into detail. Leaving Denver altogether would raise too many flags, so I’m stuck here until we all ride back home together tomorrow after the game.
It means I’ll not only have to see Drake, but I’ll have to spend more time with him.
I had no idea that Max would be at Hale-ish, but if he was there, then his partners, Jasmine and Cerberus member, Tug, were there as well. I haven’t gotten involved in many of their conversations, but I know they don’t come here unless everyone in their triad is here.
I got lucky with Slick and Aro being so tangled up in each other that neither of them opened their mouths about the kiss and caress they witnessed months ago.
I know I won’t get lucky twice.
I sneer at the door separating mine and Drake’s rooms, hating it now even though it had a certain level of appeal when I realized we shared it when we first arrived.
I have no doubt Drake stayed behind, wanting to put his night to better use than some half-assed hand job in a bathroom stall. Hale-ish was a place where all sexual fantasies were capable of coming true.
I guess I can only hope that he stays up all night and is too tired to attend the baseball game tomorrow, but I know I’d never get that lucky.
An unwelcomed wave of goosebumps skate over my arms and down my back at the memories of what happened tonight.
That man’s hand on me was better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Guilt where Drake is concerned seems to always be simmering just under the surface. If I’m not feeling remorse for the things I’ve done, then I’m feeling it for the things I wish I could do.
Right now I feel both guilt and fear because once again I’m put in a position to wonder what tomorrow will look like. It’s as if there’s some other force at work here. What are the damn chances that Max of all people would be the one to walk in and find us in that restroom? Max was supposed to be back in Farmington over seven hours away. It was more likely that Ugly would walk in on us.
I can’t get close to Drake without someone from my professional life witnessing it.
Max didn’t look disgusted, but why should he? There’s nothing weird to the man about seeing two men kiss and touch each other. He’s involved with a man and a woman. His relationship doesn’t draw any unwanted attention, so why should what I did make people take pause?
I know this is more about me than about anyone else, but it doesn’t stop my feet from carrying me across the floor of the hotel room and back again. Over and over I pace the room as if doing so will somehow alter the outcome.
I know it won’t. I know everyone finding out about me is only a matter of time.
