Page 2 of Bonus Game
“Master it,” said someone else, who was hidden from view.
They erupted into laughter, and Allen covered his mouth to hide his smile.
“Stop stalling,” said the leader, giving his buddy another rough shove. “Pick out your new boyfriend so we can get the fuck out of here.”
Okay…was this taking a turn down homophobia lane? Allen really hoped not.
“I told you I wanted to kiss a guy, not buy a fake dick. I don’t see the correlation,” said the tall man in a deep voice.
Allen jerked, his gaze snapping to the imposing man who was standing with his back to him. He couldn’t see his face, but he hadverynice shoulders—very broad. His dark hair was messy and wet from the snow that was slowly melting on top of his head.
If he wanted to kiss a guy…
“Practice, dude, practice.” The leader smacked him again, but the bigger man didn’t move from his stiff position. “How are you going to gather the courage to hit on a guy if you don’t know how to handle their equipment?”
“They would have the same equipment, moron!” Another man shouted, the last of his words swept up in another wave of laughter.
The hubbub of conversation ramped up, leaving Allen unable to listen in on the entire discussion. He kept his eyes glued on the tall man with the sexy voice as he wasshovedforward, followed by a chorus of encouraging hoots from his teammates.
Allen could tell by the set of his shoulders that the prank victim was grumpy and wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible. He marched robotically toward the wall, looking so awkward that it seemed impossible that the guy could function on skates.
Too awkward. Too, too awkward.
Allen didn’t know if it was because of his height or laser focus, but the guy barreled forward without taking account of the table separating him from Dick Wall ™. The table that had the lingerie set up perfectly—the one that Allen had spent an hour perfecting that morning.
He didn’t have time to shout a warning. The man clipped the leg of the table with his boot, taking himself, the skimpy clothes, and the display of mannequins to the floor in an awful crash that shook the store.
The other six men in the roomhowled, but Allen ignored them, rushing forward to help the fallen customer. He didnotwant to get sued tonight.
The leader was trying to help his friend up, but every time he removed a pair of lacy panties from him, he laughed so hard he had to stop and gasp for air. “You are the clumsiest motherfucker. I swear to God, Jake?—”
Allen pushed the broken mannequin out of the way and began plucking underwear off the unfortunate soul. “Are you okay?”
The man hadn’t moved. He was on his hands and knees, head hanging so low that Allen couldn’t see his face, but his red ears gave his blush away. One of the wooden table legs had snapped entirely off, causing an avalanche of lace and silk to spill ontohim. He was also holding down the second mannequin, the bust of a well-endowed woman, like he was about to perform CPR on it.
“Leave me here to die,” the man said gruffly.
“No can do,” said Allen. “You’re nesting on my merchandise.”
His head lifted, and Allen caught his first glimpse of a handsome face and dark brown eyes. He had a freshly shaved, perfectly chiselled jaw and thick lashes that framed his steady gaze, making his eyes darker and more intense.
His expression went from crumpled embarrassment to shock before finally settling on confusion.
Allen continued to kneel, tuning out the sound of boisterous laughter until it was nothing but static background noise, while he waited for the man to say something.
Do something.
Doanything.
“What?” the man asked, blinking rapidly like he was struggling to see.
Allen frowned, panic rising from thoughts of having to call an ambulance. The guy was clearly having a stroke.
“My panties,” Allen said slowly. “You are holding them captive.”
Another series of blinks. A darkening blush.
“Did you hit your head?” Allen asked, eyes searching for damage. “Did you break your leg? Your back?—”
