Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
No big deal.
As I followed him out of the kitchen and over to the bar, I watched as he turned on the charm all over again, welcoming Charlie into the bar and getting fresh, frosty glasses for both of our beers.
Charlie was beaming up at him, too, clearly already feeling how good it was to be in the spotlight of Rush’s world.
I ached with envy. Stupid, senseless envy, for a guy who was never even close to mine in the first place. Maybe it would be for the better if Rush hit it off with Charlie tonight, after all. Maybe then finally my dick and my brain would start to give it a rest and stop conspiring to make me absolutely crazy.
But a moment later, Rush glided back over toward me behind the bar. He leaned over, whispering low in my ear.
“Lot of cute guys here tonight. I want you to flirt with one of them.”
I got goosebumps just from having him this close to me. “Oh yeah?” I challenged him as he leaned back a little. “Is that my assignment, professor?”
He bit his lower lip, then let it slide out from his teeth a moment later. “Sure is, grasshopper.”
“I still don’t know how to do that,” I said. “Maybe you should teach me more.”
His lids dropped, just a little, and he shrugged. “Maybe I’m doing that right now.”
I let out a slow breath and held Rush’s gaze as he held mine, like both of us were daring the other to do something.
“Robbie,” a gruff voice came from the other side of the room, and a moment later Harlan appeared, every bit the mountain man as always. “Sorry. Rush,” he corrected himself, saying the name like it was ridiculous. “Newfangled pipes you installed are already fucking up.”
Rush nodded. “I’ll be back there in a second. I’m sure the microchip is just sensitive.”
Harlan looked over and saw me, his expression softening right away. “Oh, hey, Shawn,” he said. “How’s your mom doing? She mention trying what I recommended to make her sourdough bread come out better?”
I smiled. “She did. Says it's the best it's ever been. She’ll be bringing you a loaf this week, I think.”
Harlan smiled sweetly. “So happy to hear it.”
Rush was looking from me to Harlan with narrowed eyes. “What? I’m sorry, he gets the smiles and the how’s-your-mother chat, and you look at me like you want to drop-kick me into a fermentation tank all day every day?”
Harlan ignored Rush’s protests and walked back over toward the tanks. “Come on. Come fix the thing you broke.”
I was biting back a smile as Rush shook his head. “One day,” he said. “One day I’m going to make that man like me.”
“Good luck,” I said.
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and he took the towel from over his shoulder and set it down behind the bar. “Good luck to you on your flirting.”
Rush disappeared behind the big tanks and I leaned back, scanning the room. For a long while, I actually did try to do what he’d told me. I found one guy who was a potential option to flirt with, but soon after, a woman came into the bar and kissed him. Then a man walked in later and I bought him a drink, but after some brief chatting he let me know that his husband was in Ohio visiting family.
Even the man who was gay was unavailable.
My last effort was with a younger dude who came in and grabbed a drink then headed over to the pool table. I played a few rounds with him and managed to compliment his hair, which I was pretty sure was a part of flirting sometimes. But then I went to the bathroom and when I came back, he was nowhere to be found.
It was just as hopeless as it had always been.
I played another round of pool by myself, glancing over and seeing Rush hitting it off with Charlie.
For the better, I thought.
I’d wasted so much time in my early twenties being too afraid of being with men, and now I was in my thirties just circling back to a crush I’d had long ago.
I had to put an end to it. No matter how much I wanted more.
8
RUSH
“Hello? Anybody home?”
The voice was accompanied by a few gentle knocks on the front door. I sat up in bed, my head pounding a little from the night before.
“Just a second,” I called out, then cursed under my breath.
Shawn was here. The time on my clock read 7:59.
In the damn morning.
Eight o’clock was already early enough. Why did these construction types always have to start so early? Not everyone was part of the late-night bar scene like me, I supposed.
I tugged on a clean pair of sweatpants nearby, looking down and realizing I had a significant problem in my pants. A hard-on that could rival the Eiffel Tower. A glance in the mirror showed that the rest of me wasn’t much better, my hair still messed up from sleep and a few lines still showing up on my arm from where the sheets had pressed into my skin.