“Plenty of people see me and assume trouble.”
Whether he meant the motorcycle thing or the color of his skin, I wasn’t certain. “I don’t judge.”
“And yet you just did.”
“Uh…”Damn, he’s right.
He smacked my biceps. “I’m teasing. I’m an upstanding citizen. Never so much as a parking ticket.” He tapped his chin. “Well, that one on Davie Street in Vancouver…”
I grinned. “The place where I’d been heading.” Needing to get us back on track, I gave him the once-over. “This is so much better than that.”
He laughed. “You don’t know that yet.” Then he sobered. “I’ve been in town three days, and I’ve met the hunkiest ginger in town.”
I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t met Maddox Laxana-Baker, Justin Powers, or Ryan Cox.”
He blinked. “That many hunky guys?”
“Hunkygayginger guys. And those are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head. I mean, there’s—”
“Why don’t we focus on the here-and-now? I’mhereand you’renow.”
“Oh, I like your way of thinking.” I beckoned him toward the cabin. “It’s not much.”
“It’s yours?”
“Yeah.” I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Then it’s perfect.” He passed me—coming close enough for our chests to brush—and stepped into my home.
My cock, previously at half-mast, perked right the fuck up.Now, would be nice…
I followed Ulysses into the cabin, again trying to see it from his perspective.
He pointed to the loft. “You sleep up there?”
“Uh, no. There are two bedrooms at the back of the house. One of them’s mine. I use the loft…for other things.” Things I wasn’t going to share.
Gently, he laid his helmet on the bench by the front door. He pointed to his awesome shit-kicker black boots.
I grinned. Then removed my cowboy boots. Sometimes, when I went into Vancouver, I wore a silk shirt, linen trousers, and a leather jacket. When I wanted to play up my more intellectual side.
Most of the time, though, I wore cowboy boots, a chambray shirt, and a belt. My blue-collar look. I was a guy who showered at the end of the day, and I had no problems owning that. I might’ve attracted certain guys more than others. Frankly, though, I had my pick. I had a bit of a soft spot for other guys like myself. I had hooked up with a rebar guy with facial tattoos a couple of years ago—
And why, precisely, are you thinking about some dude named Travis when you have this amazing specimen of a man before you?
Good question.
I gestured to his dusty leather jacket and black jeans that molded every inch of his sexy body.
He shucked off the jacket and handed it to me.
“Let me wipe the dust off. The bathroom’s the first door on the left. My bedroom is the one next to it. Forest green. Just in case you hit the lavender-and-white frilly lacy one and wonder.”
He advanced right into my space. “I don’t give a shit if you’ve got red satin sheets and pink carnations.” He cocked his head. “Okay, they might not look good together. But you know what I mean.”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t want to fuck in my mother’s bedroom.”
“Your mother lives here?” His eyebrows shot up.
