Page 74 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
“Yeah, I get that, Fitz. It’s just, down the road . . .”
He leans in close, nuzzling my neck. “I can’t think about anyone else. Not now, not tomorrow.” He brushes the lightest kiss on my neck, then moves back to look at me. “Dean, do you want to talk . . .”
“Yes,” I say, and my heart slams against my chest because I think I know what’s coming.
The talk.
The Can we do this? talk.
And I want to have it, but it’s crowded and busy here.
“Let’s go sit on a park bench.”
“That’s so rom-com,” he remarks with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah, and if this were a movie, we’d both watch it.”
“We so would.”
I take his hand, guiding him away from the water and toward a nearby park. We find a quiet bench, away from foot traffic, among the grass and the trees.
Fitz speaks first. “What are we going to do after tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Do you think about it?”
A laugh bursts from me. “Are you kidding me? I think about it all the time. If you were here, I’d make sure no one gave you sex eyes.” I furrow my brow and reconsider. “Well, I can’t make sure no one would do that, because you’re the hottest guy who’s ever walked into my bar, so I’m sure tons of guys would. But I’d damn well make sure everyone knew you were taken.”
His smile is the stuff of legend. It’s like I’ve given him his greatest wish. “You’d go all caveman on me?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“What would you do?” Fitz asks, a little low and dirty. “Like, if we were in public, what would you do?”
“Same thing I do now. I’d have my hands all over you. I’d drape an arm around your shoulder,” I say, demonstrating. “I’d make sure all the guys knew you were going home with me, and that no one else would get to touch you.”
Fitz closes his eyes and lets out a needy rumble, swaying closer to me. When he opens his eyes, those blue irises are full of desire. Like they usually are. “You being possessive is my new favorite thing.” Then he blinks and shakes his head. “But stop distracting me.” He clears his throat and gives me an earnest look. “What can we do?”
“I honestly don’t know. I imagine your schedule is ridiculously busy. You know mine is too.”
He runs a hand over his beard. “We play three games a week. We’re on the road a ton. You work every day but Sunday and Monday.”
I nod. “I do.”
He’s quiet for a minute, eyes turned toward the people stretched out across the lawn, but not seeing them. He looks lost in thought. After a beat, he says, “But honestly, New York’s not that far from London.”
I shoot him a skeptical stare. “Not that far?”
“Well, it’s not San Diego-to-London far.”
“Fine. True. But it’s still far, Fitz.”
“Yeah, I’m just trying to work through scenarios,” he says, leaning back against the bench, rubbing his hand on my shoulder. “Like, if I had a couple days off and they lined up with your days off, would you come over and see me?”
Would I? I know the answer, but I also can’t resist the chance to toy with him. “Depends.” My voice is coy.
“Depends on what?” he asks, indignant.
“Are you getting me a first-class ticket?”
Fitz laughs, sliding a hand up my thigh. “Well, you have a first-class cock. I’m definitely going to miss this first-class cock.”
I grin. “I get it. You’d be willing to fly me and my first-class cock over when you are horny.”
He smirks, licking the corner of his lips. “Fuck, yeah.”
I nod a few times. “I can live with that. My first-class cock and I can definitely live with that.”
He pumps both fists. “Problem solved by the power of dick.”
All I can do is laugh. We both do. We crack up, and it feels great to laugh with him.
But soon, the laughter fades, and we’re back to the same place.
The Will we? The Can we?
“Seriously though, Dean?” he asks.
I sigh, wishing there were an easy answer. “I think we just have to see how it goes. I mean, I don’t know. It doesn’t sound ideal, to be honest. Do you want a long-distance thing? It sounds kind of awful.”
“It does. But I also don’t want zero of you.”
“I feel the same. But I don’t want two percent of you either.” I turn and meet his gaze. “And look, I can’t just up and leave my world.” Before Fitz can say a word—because I am not taking a chance on him freaking out again—I hold up both hands. “I know you’re not asking me to. I’m not saying you are. I just want to be clear. I’m putting my cards on the table. There’s no bluffing here. My mum did that, and I won’t do the same.”
