Page 62 of Boss and Brat

They reached a smoother stretch of trail, and Carter eased off the throttle a little, letting the engines quiet down.

Then Carter said something—casual, offhand, but it hit Ethan like a jolt.

“You know,” Carter said, eyes on the path ahead, “I’ve never cared where people go to meet someone. Gay clubs, straight bars, whatever. People are people.”

Ethan’s heart skipped.Whatever. People are people.

That wasn’t something most straight guys said. Not like that. Not with that tone—steady, sure, like he meant it.

Ethan tried to keep his voice even. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Carter said. “Doesn’t matter who someone’s into. What matters is whether they’re decent.”

Ethan swallowed hard. “And do you think I’m decent?”

Carter shot him a look—quick, warm, almost too warm. “I wouldn’t have you living in my cabin if I didn’t.”

Ethan’s breath caught.That wasn’t nothing. That wasn’t neutral.

That wasn’t the kind of thing a guy said if he was uncomfortable with Ethan being gay. But Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to ask the real question.

He gripped the handlebars tighter, trying to steady himself. “Thanks. For… not making it weird.”

Carter’s voice softened. “Ethan, if anyone made it weird, it’d be me. Not you.”

Ethan blinked. “Why you?”

Carter hesitated—just a beat, but Ethan felt it.

Then Carter said, “Because I’m the one who overthinks everything.”

Ethan stared at him, heart thudding. That wasn’t the answer he expected. That wasn’t a straight answer. That wasn’t a closed door. It felt like Carter was saying something without saying it.

Ethan didn’t push. He couldn’t. Not yet. But the question burned hotter now, sitting right under his tongue.

Was Carter gay? Bi?Curious? Something? He still didn’t know.

But for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—Carter wasn’t as far away from him as he thought.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The ride back to the cabin felt longer than usual. Not because of the distance—because of the weight sitting in Carter’s chest. Ethan rode beside him, quiet but not tense, as if he were thinking hard. Carter was thinking too. Too damn much.

Ethan being gay didn’t bother him. What bothered him was how relieved he’d felt hearing it. How something inside him had loosened, like a knot he didn’t know he’d been carrying. And that scared the hell out of him. He was Ethan’s boss. Mr. Evans had trusted him with his son. He had a responsibility, a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.

But every time Ethan looked at him with those open, hopeful eyes, that line blurred. By the time they reached the cabin, Carter felt the pressure between them like humidity before a storm—heavy, close, settling under his collar and making it hard to breathe the way he normally did around people.

Carter headed straight for the kitchen. Cooking gave him something to do with his hands, something to focus on besides the kid watching him from the doorway like he was trying to read his soul.

He washed his hands and pulled out a skillet, set it on the stove, and started chopping vegetables. His knife hit the cutting board a little harder than necessary.

Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Carter said too quickly.

Ethan didn’t buy it. His gaze stayed on Carter—warm, curious, steady enough to raise a prickle along Carter’s skin. The kind of attention that made him too aware of the space between them and how easily it could close.

He stirred the pan, trying to look busy. “You hungry?”