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He couldn’t deny that. He even knew what had scared the fuck out of him.
Curling around Race’s naked body had felt good.
Go to sleep. You’re drunk. You’ll have forgotten this by morning.
Shit, he hoped so.
Butch flipped the shower off and toweled himself dry. Race was still asleep when he’d snuck out of the bed. The sun was already up, and Butch needed to get the hell out of there. He imagined there would be quite a few thick heads on the ranch that morning. They’d be too busy dealing with their own hangovers to notice his absence.
Except maybe the boss. He saweverything.
Butch’s head was still on his shoulders and the ache had subsided after two glasses of water and the shower. He squirmed into his jeans, jumping at the light knock at the bathroom door.
“Sorry, but I need to take a piss.”
Butch opened it, and Race stood there in his jeans, fly open. Butch grabbed his shirt and dove out of there, listening to Race hum a little tune while he did his business.
Okay, this was awkward as fuck.
He couldn’t just leave, not after Race had been kind enough to let him stay the night, but the memory of what had passed in the night lingered. Butch knew he wasn’t running from Race—he’d done nothing, for fuck’s sake, except be a gentleman and sleep—but from his own reaction.
The toilet flushed, the door opened, and Race came out. “You wanna grab some breakfast? I saw a place along the street that looks good.” He cocked his head. “Unless you have to run.”
“Yeah, I do. But thanks for last night.”
Race’s eyes gleamed. “No, thankyou.” He smiled. “I didn’t expect that, but it sure was nice while it lasted.”
Holy fuck.
Butch was under no illusions as to what Race was referring.
“I thought you were asleep.” The words came out as a croak.
“I was—until something poked me.”
Aw fuck.
Then the full import of his words sank in.
“But… you didn’t… and you could’ve…”
Race’s expression lost all trace of amusement. “No, Icouldn’t,” he said in a gentle tone. “Much as I would have liked to roll over and… enjoy it, there was something vital missing.”
Butch caught up fast. “I’m not your type.” He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
Race laughed. “Oh baby, you aresomy type. No, what was missing was one thing—consent. I don’t take something without asking, and I don’t take advantage of guys—or girls. Now, if you’dwantedto play? Hell, I’d have thought Christmas had come early. But that obviously wasn’t the case. Your reaction told me that much.” He smiled again. “You’re a conundrum, Butch Buchanan, and I’d love to take a peek at what’s going on inside that head of yours.” He went over to the nightstand, picked up his wallet, removed a card, and held it out to Butch.
“What’s this?”
Race rolled his eyes. “My number, dude. I’ll be moving here next month, remember? At least I know there’ll be one person I’m already acquainted with.” He peered closely. “Maybe a dude who wouldn’t mind meeting up for a drink, or shoot some pool?” When Butch didn’t reach for the card, Race let out a sigh. “No funny business, okay? Consent, remember? But I really enjoyed talking with you last night, and I think you did too—before your, er, anatomy got other ideas.” He proffered the card once more. “You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to.”
Butch took the card and glanced at the number. “This looks weird.”
“That’s because it’s the number for my cell phone.” He pointed to the small black object next to his wallet. “That’s it over there. The company provides it. So even though I’ll be moving, you can still contact me on it.” There was that keen glance again. “If you want to.”
Butch thought quickly. “The only number I’ve got is for the ranch.” And he didn’t want Race calling him there. Hehadenjoyed the evening, however, and he genuinely liked Race. He stuffed the card into the back pocket of his jeans.
Race waved his hand. “That’s okay. I’ll leave the ball in your court.” Butch shivered and Race frowned. “Hey, what’s up?”
