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Bowie groaned and laughed. “Yeah, now you just sound like my mother,” he teased.
“Thanks for that,” Savage grumbled. He knew just by looking at the guy that he had a few years on him. Hell, he had more than a few years but that usually didn’t bother him. Savage liked his guys young and feisty.
“Sorry, man. Um, I didn’t catch your name,” Bowie said.
“Savage,” he offered.
“Wow—you gave me shit about my name but yours is pretty epic too. How did you get a name like Savage?” Bowie crossed his arms over his massive chest and waited him out. It wasn’t something Savage liked to talk about, but the determination on the guy’s face told him he really had no choice in the matter.
“Savage is actually my last name. My first name is Logan, but my club gave me the nickname after I told them about my helicopter going down. Lost a lot of good guys that day and my buddies said I’m still alive because I’m too savage to die.”
“You served?” Bowie asked.
“Yeah—career Air Force until the accident and then honorably discharged,” Savage admitted. “How about you?” Bowie held his arms wide as if showing Savage his fatigues to prove his point.
“I enlisted in the Army right from high school and haven’t left yet. I’ve been in for twelve years now and I hope to make thismy career, but we’ll see.” Savage did the math in his head and whistled.
“So, you’re what—about thirty?” he questioned.
“I’ll be thirty-one in a few months,” Bowie admitted.
“You’re just a kid,” Savage teased.
“Yeah—okay, old man,” Bowie said. Savage knew the guy was teasing but at forty-five, he was really beginning to feel his age. “And how old are you?” Savage winced at the mention of his age. It was something he usually didn’t share because it wasn’t anyone’s damn business.
Savage smiled at Bowie, trying to deflect his question with one of his own. “Want to have a couple beers with me?” Savage knew he was pushing his luck with the younger guy, but he didn’t give a shit. He was hot and tired, and Bowie turned him the fuck on. It was time to knock off and if Savage could convince him to have a couple of beers, then he might be able to talk Bowie into coming home with him for the night. If he was reading the signals correctly, his new friend was interested but he had been wrong in the past—so who knew?
“You asking me out, Savage?” Bowie questioned. Now it was Savage’s turn to waiver in his answer and he suddenly worried that he had misread the chemistry that hummed through the air between the two of them.
Savage shrugged, “Maybe I am,” he said, not really answering Bowie’s question. The guy was as stoic as they came and Savage was trying to read him, but he wasn’t having any luck.
“Listen, if I misread the situation, then just forget I asked,” Savage grumbled. He picked up the last part of his rocket that landed a few hundred feet away from where he had parked and by the time he turned around and headed back to his pick-up truck, he found Bowie leaning up against the passenger side door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“I’m in,” Bowie said, flashing him a wolfish grin.
“Sounds good,” Savage said. He was trying for nonchalant, but his tone sounded anything but. It had been a damn long time since he met a man who made his cock pay attention, but Bowie did that for him. Savage needed to get himself under control or he’d blow his whole cool guy routine. Hell, he was far from being cool, but Bowie seemed interested, and he wasn’t about to do anything to fuck that up.
“You have someplace in mind?” Bowie asked, helping Savage shove the last of his equipment into the back of his pickup. “I mean, do you have a place you usually go to, you know, for a few beers?”
Savage liked the way Bowie seemed just as flustered about their situation as he was. He found it kind of cute the way the guy was floundering for words. He could have helped him out but giving him a hard time felt like the better option and would be a lot more fun.
“You mean, like a gay bar?” Savage asked. He knew he was adding fuel to the fire, but he didn’t care. Bowie turned an adorable shade of red that ran down his sexy neck and had Savage wanting to see just how far down his blush went.
“Well, I mean—sure. Or any bar, for that matter. It doesn’t matter to me,” Bowie stuttered.
Savage reached out and put his hand on Bowie’s arm. “I’m just messing with you,” he said. “I don’t know of too many gay bars in Huntsville. I usually just go to my own bar, but I don’t really advertise that I’m gay and I don’t feel like answering questions tonight. You mind just going to the Voodoo Lounge? It’s a bit yuppie but I think we can blend in with the regular crowd. Plus, they’ve got great live music a few nights of the week.”
“Wait—you have a bar?” Bowie asked.
Savage smiled and nodded, “Yep—the bar’s called Savage Hell. It’s also where my motorcycle club meets. We’re a partof the Royal Bastards, which is a nationwide MC, but my little chapter calls themselves Savage Hell, after the bar. I try to keep my personal and private lives separate.”
“Meaning you haven’t shared that you’re gay with your club,” Bowie guessed.
Savage wasn’t sure what to say to Bowie’s assessment. On the one hand, he felt the need to set him straight, and on the other, he wanted to tell him it wasn’t anyone’s business whom he was having sex with. From the way his body was responding to Bowie, he hoped to have sex with him before the end of the night.
“Listen,” Savage said. “I learned a long time ago that who I’m fucking is no one’s business. I like you, Bowie, but if you’re not interested, tell me now if I’m wasting my time.”
“I was just talking, man,” Bowie said.
