Page 58 of Bone Deep
He follows my line of sight, nodding once, and we head toward Jen, Lexi, and Beau gathered a little further inside. Lexi’s eyes widen when she sees me. “Oh my God, what are you wearing?”
Beau takes one look at me and loses it. “Dude,” he laughs, hauling me into a hug.
I clap him on the back, grinning. “You know I look good.”
When I pull back, I turn to Lexi, giving her a once-over. “You look incredible. That dress is perfection. Shows off those tats.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I know.” I snicker and pull her into a hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Spence with Jen as he leans in, hugging her, and something in my chest squeezes at the easy familiarity of it.
Jen’s in a tux, and she looks amazing. I step in as they break apart and she gestures at me. “I actually like it. Only you could pull that off, Butters.”
Spence scoffs. “Don’t encourage him.”
She just grins at him, and I shake my head before pointing right back at her. “And only you could pullthatoff.” She smileslike she knows. Then I glance past them and spot the man of the hour. “Oh, hey, I see Anthony. Let’s head over.”
As we move, I notice someone standing next to him. It’s Jason Ciccone, Atlanta’s starting pitcher. He’s also one of the athletes going in on this whole thing. My excitement spikes because this reveal tonight? It’s going to be epic. Anthony has no idea.
We reach him, and it’s a round of hugs—Jen, Lexi, Beau, me. When I pull back, I give him a once-over, smirking. “You look good, man. You do the paintings justice.”
Spence slides right past me. “Does he flirt with anything that walks?” he mutters, leaning in to hug Anthony.
And fuck…I stop hearing anything for a second. Because his jacket rides up and there it is. The curve of his ass, perfectly fitted in those pants. Strong. Round. Built from months of work—work I’ve been watching, noticing, appreciating way too damn closely. It’s better than it used to be. And I already thought it was a top tier ass before.
I can’t take it anymore.
He steps back from Anthony, ending up right next to me again, and I don’t overthink it for once. I just glance at him, slow, deliberate, letting the grin spread across my face. “No,” I say, voice low. “Only you, Muffin Man.” Then I reach down for a handful—and squeeze. Firm and real. Not a ‘good set’workout ass slap.
Spence startles hard, jumping. “Ryan Michael Buterbaugh!” he hisses, spinning toward me and shoving my chest with one hand. I’m already grinning, wide and unapologetic, drinking in the way his eyes flash.
God, he’s hot when he’s pissed.
He glares at me, then rolls his eyes, muttering, “I’m getting a drink,” before turning on his heel and stalking off. But I catchhis words—soft, under his breath, not meant for me to hear. “Gorgeous idiot.”
My grin turns feral and Anthony looks at me, brow raised. “Why is he middle naming you?”
I shrug, all innocence. “No idea.”
Then I turn and follow. There’s no way in hell I’m letting Spence get away from me right now. I slide in beside him at the bar. He doesn’t look at me. Won’t acknowledge me. I bump my shoulder lightly into his. “Hey. I’m sorry if I upset you back there.” I let out a soft sigh, a half-smile pulling at my mouth. “Seems I couldn’t help myself. Our workouts are paying off.”
He groans, but I continue, “Better be careful walking around this event with an absolute shelf. Someone might try to set their drink on it.” Slowly, he turns his head. And glares.
My grin slips. “Shit. I’ll remember you don’t like that.”
He turns his gaze back to the wall of liquor, voice lower now. “I didn’t say that. Justsurprised me is all.”
Oh.
Deciding this is a good moment as any to deploy the newest weapon in my arsenal, I turn slightly toward him, just enough to catch his peripheral vision, and let a slow smile spread across my face.
Then I tap the dimple in my chin with one finger. “Hmm. That’s good to know,” I murmur. “Thanks for the disclosure, Counselor.” Spence shifts, just a fraction, but I catch the flicker of heat. His eyes land on my mouth. My chin. The dimple I know damn well is working its magic on him.
He snaps his gaze away. “God help me,” he mutters under his breath. My smile gets impossibly wider. The bartender appears in front of us, and Spence practically bites out, “Just order a drink, Ryan.”
I lean an elbow on the bar, tapping my chin again like I’m deep in thought. “Mm. What am I in the mood for tonight?”
He huffs beside me.
The bartender—tall, dark-skinned, and absolutely built—grins back, easy and confident. Normally? I’d appreciate the view just enough not to raise suspicion. But tonight? Nothing. My attention is locked firmly to the man at my side. I grin and look at the bartender. “Do you have a slippery dick?”
