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“Are you drunk?”
“I only had club soda.”
“Was it salty?”
“Huh?”
“All right, kid, come with me. You need to sleep this off.”
Wyatt plastered his hot, sweaty body right against Jackson’s. “Sleep, huh? You got a bed big enough for two in that motel room?”
“I got room for us both to sleep without touchin’, now calm down a minute.” Flannel Guy came at him and Jackson took him out with a simple punch to the mouth. Jackson wasn’t much for hitting guys who couldn’t defend themselves, but Wyatt was his priority right now, not the rando who wanted to get into Wyatt’s pants. “Stay down!”
Flannel and Two both hit the dirt on their threadbare jeans, and that didn’t surprise Jackson at all. What made him want to laugh out loud was the way Wyatt’s ass hit the ground at his growled order, as if Jackson was giving his dog a command.
“Not you,” he said to Wyatt. “Let’s go.”
Wyatt struggled to get back to his feet, so Jackson hoisted him up with a hand under each armpit. He listed into Jackson again, and if the kid said he’d only ordered club soda, there was a good chance he’d been roofied. Just in case, Jackson fished out his phone and took a few quick snapshots of the other men, who both mumbled protests and tried to hide their faces.
“Who the fuck is this kid to you?” Two snarled.
“He’s a friend and he’s underage, jackwagon,” Jackson retorted. “Stay away from him.”
He pulled Wyatt toward the parking lot and his own pickup. Wyatt leaned heavily against him, seeming more out of it by the second. “Not underage,” he said.
“To be served in a bar, you are. Plus, those guys are predatory assholes who might have drugged you.”
“My hero.”
“Come on, in, you.” He got Wyatt situated in the cab and buckled him in. “We’ll come back for your car in the morning.”
“M’kay.”
Wyatt was asleep by the time Jackson parked in front of his motel room, snoring away with his cheek pressed against the window. Jackson studied him in the dim light, unsettled by the protective instincts he had for Wyatt after knowing him for less than a week. Wyatt looked so young, his curls a cauldron of red fire, and Jackson hated knowing what might have happened tonight if he hadn’t been paying attention. Maybe Wyatt had initially been into the dancing and groping, but by the time Jackson found him, he’d lost the ability to properly consent to anything, much less a threesome with two strangers.
It took a bit of doing, because Wyatt was taller than him, but Jackson managed to wrangle him into his room and sprawl him on the bed. Not wanting to overstep, Jackson pried off Wyatt’s boots and belt, then tossed the bedspread over him once he was sure all limbs were in semicomfortable positions. He also left a cup of water on the bedside table next to two aspirin.
He didn’t want to leave Wyatt alone, just in case he had a bad reaction to whatever he’d taken, so Jackson grabbed a bedspread from another room, changed into his flannel pants and a T-shirt, and settled into one of the sitting chairs to try to sleep.
Wyatt woke slowly, limbs sluggish, positive he’d gone to a fun party, gotten wasted on shots, and now had the worst hangover of his life. He blinked bleary eyes open and tried to remember where he’d crashed last night. The dated wallpaper was sort of familiar but he wasn’t sure why. Then he heard a light snore nearby and looked to his left. He was alone in the bed, so who was—big guy in a chair. In a motel room.
His night at Blue Tavern came back in bits and pieces. Being horny, hoping to get laid, and then getting inspired when he spotted Jackson at a table. Humping the guys nearest him, hoping to get a reaction out of Jackson. Getting a little dizzy. Going outside for some fresh winter air.
Everything else was a blur.
His stomach heaved once but he didn’t barf. He sat up carefully, wincing as the old mattress squealed beneath him.
Jackson woke with a start, his broad body almost too large for the chair he’d obviously slept in. “Ow, shit.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, that familiar sexy scowl back in place. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah. How did I get to your place?” Wyatt did a quick systems check but his clothes were on and nothing felt sore besides his head and stomach. “Did we fuck?”
“No, we didn’t fuck. Someone slipped you something at the Tavern last night, so I brought you here to sleep it off.”
“Oh. You could have shared the bed with me.”
“Didn’t want you to wake up and freak out. You don’t remember the fight outside?”
“Fight? I got into a fight?” He didn’t feel like he’d been punched, but he was also still woozy and thirsty. He spotted a cup of water but couldn’t muster the energy to reach for it.
