Page 4 of Sin Deep
“No. He went with his partner, Harley. He didn’t tell you he had a boyfriend?”
“Nope. I mean, he never said one way or the other.” Which was sort of weird. They’d talked a lot about Jackson’s schooling, about Oliver, about the restaurant that he waited tables in, but not a lover?
“Oh. Well. I’m sure he had a reason.” Oliver shrugged, and he had to wonder if Oliver knew what the reason might be. “Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be back for a while. Last I heard from him he was happy.”
“Good. I’m all over happiness. He’s my good friend, you know?” He’d worry about whether or not he needed to worry about things later.
Maybe Sunday.
“Oh yeah, for sure. He talked about you a lot.”
“Hello again!” Jesse was suddenly there, grinning widely with hands full of Mardi Gras beads. “I’ve been tasked with handing these out. Here, cowboy, you need some bling.” Jesse hung a handful of them around his neck. “Oh, much better.”
“Good lord and butter.” He rolled his eyes, but he’d play along. No one’d asked to see his titties to get them, and he could use them to decorate his room.
Jesse hung a handful around Oliver’s neck too. “See? I was careful with the cowboy.”
“I appreciate it. He’s delicate.” Dude, butter wouldn’t melt in Oliver’s mouth.
“That’s me. Like blown glass and shit.”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “I want to see you dressed up. Dress him up next time, Oliver. Don’t you think he’d be beautiful?”
Oliver nodded. “Go easy, Jesse. He’s new-new.”
“Oh.” Jesse nodded. “Don’t worry, cowboy. You won’t be new forever.” Jesse kissed his cheek and moved down the bar, hanging more necklaces on people as he went.
No. No one was new forever. He was going to enjoy all the fun of this, new or not.
3
Winter sipped his drink, eyes on the bar, watching Ollie and his guest talk and laugh. He was proud of himself; he’d promised himself he’d do something, anything other than just watch tonight, and he finally had.
He’d actually touched that boy.
And he’d only just stop trembling from the adrenaline rush.
Harley was a wonderful name. He assumed it was after the motorcycle, not the comic book character, but who was to say anymore? People named their kids after food and medical conditions these days.
“Harley,” he whispered, liking how the name felt on his tongue, which made him wonder how the boy would taste. He didn’t imagine he’d ever find out, but that was okay. He could watch.
Harley ordered another drink, and he didn’t judge. This was a night of excesses. It shocked him when Leighton handed him two bottles of water.
It shocked him more when Harley finished his whiskey and then headed into the crowd with the waters.
Was Harley headed his way? Surely not. He glanced quickly over his shoulder and back again, then swallowed hard against a sudden pang of anxiety in his stomach. Why on earth would this boy be coming to him? Certainly Ollie had explained he wasn’t great at conversation.
Sure enough, Harley stood at his table. “Howdy, sir. It’s hot as all get out in here. I thought you might could use a water.”
Winter stared for a second, thinking the boy sounded genuine, but certain that someone—Jesse perhaps—put him up to this stunt. “Thank you.” He didn’t reach for the water. The polite thing would be to invite Harley to sit, but sitting meant talking, and he was going to have to dig deep to find something to talk about with a lovely Texan boy—or he assumed Texan, the “might could” was certainly southern, but the cadence usually gave a Texan away.
“You’re more than welcome.” Harley looked over the party, then he smiled at Winter. “You mind if I park my butt? I won’t bother you, I swear. I worked all day, and I didn’t know I was fixin’ to party.”
“Oh. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just—surprised. About the water. Very kind.” He was sorry, because he was terrible at this, and he’d honestly thought Harley would just put the water down and walk away.
Maybe the boy was upset that he’d been watching. Maybe he’d made Harley uncomfortable. He should have known better; he knew this was Harley’s first time here. He knew a little something about everyone at the club.
“No, no. I’m being pushy. I just want to take a load off for a minute. I promise not to be all Chatty Cathy on you.” The smile he got was warm, almost sweet.
