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Wyatt quirked an eyebrow and ordered a ginger ale. Once the waitress moved off to get their drinks, he leaned across the table. “First-name basis with the staff here? Favorite spot?”
“Don’t always feel like eating at the diner in Weston, especially on my days off. This place is closer to the motel. Probably did even better business with travelers when the motel was still running, but shit happens.”
“True. Good food?”
“I like it. The cook here makes decent pancakes. They might be good for a queasy stomach. I’d stay away from the hash, though. It’s usually yesterday’s leftover home fries and meat of the day.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
When their waitress returned with their drinks, Wyatt ordered two pancakes with no syrup or butter, and no sides. Jackson got something called the Big Chief, but they lost their menus before Wyatt could investigate it. Whatever, he’d let Jackson eat. He wasn’t the idiot who’d gotten himself drugged last night; he was the hero who’d swooped in and saved Wyatt’s dumb ass.
Going to the Tavern alone had been stupid, and he said as much to Jackson.
Jackson shrugged. “Probably a little stupid, yeah, since you’re still very new around here. And in a bar like that, where it’s ninety-nine percent regulars and one percent newbies, it’s easy to get in over your head. Especially when, I suspect, you don’t have much gay bar experience under your belt.”
“Not really, no. A lot of parties in college, but I didn’t let myself get wasted too much because I was trying to graduate early. It’s hard to take exams with a hangover.” He glanced around, but no one was seated near them. “I’m not a total virgin or anything but it was all experimenting with guys my own age.”
“Not a couple of old bears looking to get with fresh young meat?”
“Pretty much.” Wyatt rested his forehead on the table. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“You’re twenty years old. Doing idiotic things comes with the territory. Learning from those things is what’s important. Until you’ve met more people, don’t go out to strange bars alone.”
He looked up, unable to stop a sexy smile. “Are you volunteering to be my chaperone?”
“Don’t ask for something you don’t really want.” Something new and almost flirty danced in Jackson’s eyes. “You’re sex on two long legs and you know it, and if we didn’t work together then I’d probably have been less of a gentleman this morning while you were in my motel room.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Wyatt wasn’t sure of his own certainty here, but he’d gotten a pretty good sense of who Jackson was this past week. “I could have been naked on your bed and begging you to fuck me this morning, and you wouldn’t have done it. And not because of your amazing self-restraint, but because you care. You care what almost happened to me last night and you were being kind by taking me home, not taking home a potential lay.”
Jackson stared at him for several long moments before reaching for the table’s sugar container. “Guess you’re right. And since we’re bein’ honest, I can understand you lying about your real name the night we first met. You were protectin’ yourself. But how much of that runaway sob story was true?”
Wyatt sipped his ginger ale to bide more time and organize his thoughts. He’d been waiting for Jackson to bring up the name thing specifically, and it had taken longer than he’d thought it would. “You’re right, the name lie was me protecting myself from a stranger. I had no reason to think I’d ever see you again, much less end up working and training with you. But you didn’t really tell me much about yourself, either.”
“True, and fair point. But I was also chattin’ with a stranger and don’t tend to tell my life story to them over a beer.”
“Okay, so we both obfuscated and withheld certain things. That doesn’t make either of us a liar, and you have to admit we’ve got chemistry.” Wyatt wished he had a prop a lot sexier than a glass of ginger ale, and that he wasn’t as pale and washed out as he was from that roofie, but such was life. “You sure you don’t want to tie me up for sex?”
Both of Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “You mess with the bull, boy, you’re gonna get the horns.”
“Promise?”
Their food arrived way too fast for Wyatt’s liking because it interrupted their banter, and it gave Jackson the perfect excuse to ignore him for a little while. The Big Chief breakfast was some combination of pancakes, sausages, home fries, and grease, and Wyatt leaned back in the booth to stay away from the smell while he ate his dry pancakes. They did help settle his stomach, just like Jackson had promised, so points for that.
It was the kind of diner where you still went up to the register to pay your bill. Once they were done and Jackson had downed his third mug of coffee, Wyatt took his debit card up to the front. Jackson hovered by the door, a toothpick in his mouth, and opened the door for Wyatt.
Back in the warmth and privacy of the truck cab, Wyatt said, “I feel a lot better, so if you want to take me back to your place I won’t object. In fact, I will enthusiastically consent.”
The simple fact that Jackson hesitated with the key hovering right by the ignition was all the answer Wyatt really needed. Jackson looked over at him, desire simmering in his dark eyes. He licked his lips and it was all Wyatt could do not to lean over and kiss the man. To finally sample the cowboy he’d been lusting over for a week.
“This is a really bad idea,” Jackson said.
“Maybe. But we’ll have a lot of fun proving it.”
“If we do this, it stays off the ranch. No quickies in the hayloft, no kissing in the break room. Hear me?”
“I hear you.” They were doing this. He was finally going to get with his sexy, scowly cowboy. Getting laid had not been on his to-do list when he came to Weston, but by God, he wasn’t going to waste this chance. “Let’s go, boss.”
With a soft growl, Jackson started the truck.
