“Evening, boys. Looking good tonight.” He winked at me, then grinned at Kent.
“Thanks, hon,” I told him.
He dropped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, leaning in very close. “There’s a guy in the corner who keeps asking me to send you a drink. Want me to tell him please and thank you or to go fuck himself?”
I followed Davian’s gaze to an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and raised brows. It was the look of a sure bet. I’d accept the drink and probably get my dick sucked in the bathroom, which was something I should do considering my current crisis.
But even the thought of it made my stomach twist.
“A polite no thanks?” I offered.
Davian squeezed my shoulder gently, and as he pulled his hand away, he dragged it over my jaw and leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Now you have a reason to turn him down,” he whispered in my ear.
I bit my lip and felt an old, damn near atrophied desire spark to life in my gut. Davian wasn’t my type, and I didn’t want to fuck him, but goddamn if I didn’t miss being touched. And held. It wasn’t just the sex I was craving. It was all the stuff that came with it.
The long nights, the foreplay with an endless forever of kissing and touching and teasing. Then, when it was over, being held. Feathery kisses along the back of my neck as sleep claimedme and waking up to powerful arms pinning me to a broad, strong chest.
With my history of trust and abandonment issues, those moments had been few and far between before my accident. And now…
“Heath.”
I looked up at Kent. “Please don’t ask me why I turned that guy down.”
Kent laughed. “Trust me, that wasn’t on my mind. But it’s obvious you want something.”
“I just…” I broke off with a sigh and shoved a piece of molten-hot fried mushroom in my mouth. My eyes began to water, and Kent bit his lips to keep from laughing. “I’m clearly a disaster,” I said when I could speak again. “Every part of me is a damn disaster.”
And then there was Creek because every time I let myself fantasize lately, I thought of him. The way he was angry. The way his narrow glare could pin me to the spot. The way I wanted to take him down a peg—not to ruin his pride but to see him give in to what he clearly wanted: me.
Except, I’d had these fantasies before about straight men. It was why Seth had stared at me like I’d grown two heads, then left me stranded at the pier.
I’d broken my own heart a dozen times by convincing myself something was there when it most definitely wasn’t. I wanted to believe there was more to the way Creek looked at me—the way he seemed to hate me—than just my presence irritating him.
But I was tired of being a fool.
“You know what? It’s nothing,” I said.
Kent sighed. “Really?”
“Really. Let’s talk more about our road trip,” I told him. Every time I thought about taking the bike ride with Kent, my heart skipped a beat. I was excited and also terrified to get backto the one thing that led to my life being turned upside down. But being able to do it meant that I was reclaiming the thing I’d lost, and that was something I needed. “I’m making a list of things we definitely have to stop and see.”
His expression shifted. “If anything on that list is the world’s biggest ball of twine…”
I grinned at him. “Does foil count?”
“Heath,” he groaned.
“You love me,” I shot back.
His posture deflated, and he smiled. “Yeah, yeah.”
Talking about the trip let us both forget whatever was on our minds and focus on the future. On reclaiming something we both lost. And for a single beat of my heart, I forgot about how lonely I was, how much I wanted to be touched again, and how much I wanted the one person to break that cycle to be Sergeant Grumpy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CREEK
“Sergeant Middleton.”
