“No! People will stare.”
His brow rose at that. “Since when have you ever cared about people staring?”
“This is not the same as people staring because I look cute!”
“It is the same. And we both know they aren’t staring because you look cute!”
Foxx gasped. “You take that back! I look adorable ten times out of ten! And it is NOT the same!”
Foxx glared. Harlow glared back. His eye twitched as his mind floated back to months ago when he’d been held captive by Foxx dressed as a pink fucking bear, while the man carried him princess style past laughing police officers. “Yeah…I’m going to keep carrying you.”
“Harlow!” Foxx cried in protest when he opened the door and kept on going.
* * *
Foxx’s cheeksmay have still felt heated after being carried into the damn gym…but his current view was making up for it—even if he’d rather be getting fucked at the moment. He could have done without people continuing to peak over at him. Though, some assholes were just outright staring—rude bastards.
His gaze followed a drip of sweat as it trailed down the thick muscled bicep, over scars and taut skin.
By the Goddess, there was just something so mood lifting about watching muscles work. Specifically, Harlow’s muscles. Foxx couldn’t help but lick his lips while he continued to watch the man pull down the bar on the weight machine he was on. He was struggling to remember what the equipment the human was using was called…but did it really matter?
Foxx watched for a few moments more before he got off the machine he’d been relaxing on, saying to Harlow, “Nature calls.” He heard Harlow grunt in response as he passed him, rushing into the back.
Foxx entered the male changing rooms and found it empty for only a moment, the door swinging back open not even a second after fully closing. A familiar face appeared—the staff member who’d helped him before.
He glanced over, and had been about to head to the stalls in back when the man stopped him.
“Wait!” the minotaur gasped.
Foxx paused, brow raising in question. “Yes?”
Face grim, the man neared. Being taller than even Harlow, the guy pretty much towered over Foxx. “I can…take care of him, if you need me to.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”
“That human…” The minotaur’s eyes lowered.
On realizing where the man was looking, Foxx’s hand flew up to cover his cheek. On feeling a bare cross-shaped burn instead of a bandage, his hand started to tremble. Foxx had…forgotten he’d taken off the bandage to let it air out. Under his hand, the burn started to sting, the damaged skin still tender to the touch.
“Your boyfriend…he hurt you. I can take care of him.”
Despite how uncomfortable he felt now that he realized the stares hadn’t been due to Harlow carrying him at all…a slightly baffled chuckle slipped past his lips at the words. “That would be a bad idea.”
“I have people.” When the man reached out, looking as if to touch where Foxx’s hand was, he stepped back. The guy’s hand instantly dropped. “Umm, I’m Mason. You can trust me. And, I promise you, we can keep you safe.”
Foxx winced. Ahh, this is what he got for pretending to be a damsel in distress. Now random people, who didn’t know him, thought he needed saving. Saving from Harlow, of all people—pft.
“Harlow is NOT my boyfriend. And HE didn’t do this.”
Mason’s tanned face pinched. “You don’t have to lie for him.”
Foxx huffed. “I’m not lying.” He forced himself to drop his hand down to his side. What was the point of hiding it now? The minotaur had seen it already, as had the whole fucking gym… No wonder people kept staring.
“Look, Harlow is my partner—my work partner. I’m a hunter, as is Harlow, so I wouldn’t suggest attacking him. This burn here…” He pointed at his face, plastering a fake smile there. “Happened when a case we were on went tits up.”
The man’s dark amber eyes widened. “You’re a hunter?”
“Yes. One who's been extremely unlucky lately in the injury department. But I’m fine. And Harlow…would never hurt me.” Foxx frowned once the words left his mouth.
