Page 6 of Sin Deep
“You looked like you could use a drink, and I was looking for an oasis. You seem like you’re a good one.”
“An oasis. I like that. It’s usually quiet in my corner of the club.” Winter liked it that way.
“That’s spiffy. I love that you have your own corner.” Harley’s eyes went wide as a couple of their more flamboyant members sauntered by. “Will you look at that? I’d be scared to wear eyelashes that big.”
Winter watched them for a moment. “They wouldn’t suit you anyway. A little mascara would be more than enough for you.” He glanced back at Harley, trying not to look as shocked as he felt to have said that out loud. “If that were your thing.”
“You think so?” Harley tilted his head, eyes moving like they were trying to see his own eyelashes. “Never thought about it, to be honest. I’d try, I guess. Why not?”
The rational part of him said no, but there was no denying the jolt of electricity that ran up his spine.
No, Winter.
Except he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. “You’d try it? Will you try it for me?” That was a mistake. Now he had to hope the boy said no.
But he was hoping harder that Harley said yes.
“Of course. Do you have some?” No hesitation, no fear. Just yes.
Oh my god.
“I…no, but…” Now what? His whole night had just gone off-script. He put a hand in the air and waved toward the bar and one of the staff members hurried his way.
“Hey. What can I get for you, Master Winter?” Drew smiled at him, ready for whatever he asked for. Winter knew the staff would get him anything he needed, but this might be a tall order.
“A nice, new, black mascara, please. And an eyeliner.”
“I think I can do that.” Drew gave a nod and disappeared toward the back of the club.
He shrugged at Harley. “We’ll see, I suppose.”
“We will. That was cool, though. That you can just ask.” Harley’s eyes rolled. “I don’t have that—gift, I guess? Never have had. Does make for some amazing stories though.”
“I’ll tell you a secret. It’s not a gift; it’s just a membership fee, and a little bit of seniority.” He leaned back in his chair, watching Harley. “Tell me one of your stories.”
“I was at a Cody Johnson concert, front row, and he walked to the edge of the stage. He reached down, I reached up, and we couldn’t make it.” Harley snorted. “We couldn’t reach. Short shits.”
He chuckled, though he hadn’t the foggiest idea who Cody Johnson was. He’d find out, though. He had Spotify, and one of the boys had taught him how to use it. “Cody is height-challenged as well, I take it?”
“Bull rider. So yeah. Me? I roped in college, but I didn’t want to lose a finger, so I quit.”
“Bright boy. Where did you go to—”
Drew arrived with two brand-new packages, one eyeliner and one mascara. “I thought you might like a mirror. That one’s mine, so I’ll come around and get it later.”
“Very thoughtful, thank you, Drew.” Mascara and eyeliner required a steady hand, so he took a breath and pushed his nerves aside, again. Harley had his mind racing. “Sorry. Where did you go to college?”
“Tarleton State. It’s in Stephenville, right outside of Fort Worth.”
Okay, so yes. Texas.
“Scoot your chair this way, please. Nice and close. More light.” He opened the makeup and looked over the eyeliner first. “You’re sure you want to try this?”
“Sure. It washes off if it’s terrifying, and what if we like it?”
I will like it. What if you do?
That “we” was killing him. Dear god. He was going to need another drink.
