“I don’t know. The last time I did a favor for you, you took me ring shopping for your ex-fiancée.”
“Well, it’s not to buy a fucking ring, that’s for damn sure,” he grates out. “Just hurry up.”
“Calm down, Emperor Eeyore.” I laugh to myself as I use one of the many names that Dilynne, Henley’s younger sister, has given Elliot since his fiancé left him at the altar.
“If you want to insult me, I prefer Grumpzilla. And also…fuck you.”
I bark out a laugh as I shove my phone in my pocket and head back to my truck, already bracing myself for whatever Elliot’s about to drag me into.
***
“I’m sorry. You want to gowhereforwhat?” I lower the weights to my sides, gripping them in my hands between sets as I attempt to comprehend what just came out of Elliot’s mouth.
“You heard me.” He completes his last rep of chest flies and drops the weights to the ground, planting his hands on his hips.
“You fucking hate The Charming Bull.”
“Yeah, well, I figured maybe going someplace I normally wouldn’t might help me get back on the horse…or,bull, in this case.” His pleased smirk makes me roll my eyes.
I bring the weights back to my shoulders and press them above my head, talking through my next set slightly breathless. “Look, I understand your logic, but why do I need to go with you?”
He just blinks at me for a beat. “Am I supposed to ask Fletcher? Or Henley? Everyone else is engaged or playing house. That leaves you and me, Rhonan. I need a wingman.”
“You know I hated that shit when we were younger, and even more so now.”
He clears his throat. “Remind me, how long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” I grate out as I push the weights above my head for my final rep.
“You already know how long it’s been for me.”
“You got left at the altar, Elliot. Nobody expects you to bounce back overnight.”
“And your wife died. I think yours trumps mine, Rhonan.”
The mention of Sarah brings me right back to the dream from this morning. I shake off the melancholy wave that threatens to overtake me and drop the weights to the ground.
“This isn’t a fucking contest.”
Elliot plants his hands on his hips. “I know. This is one friend asking another friend for a favor.” He takes a few steps toward me and then drops his voice. “You and I both know that I haven’t been able to…seal the deal,” he says, flicking his eyes around us before continuing. “And it hasn’t been for a lack of trying. But at this point, man, I’m starting to think Little Elliot is broken and might shrivel up and fall off.”
“You call your dick Little Elliot?”
He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Focus. That’s not the point.”
“Then why bring it up?” Wanting to tease him a bit more, I continue, “Exactly how little are we talking?”
His eyes narrow. “You’re an ass. But just so we’re clear, there’s nothing fucking little about my dick, all right?”
“Then why—”
“Rhonan, I fucking need you, man.”
“To go to a bar and watch women gyrate on a mechanical bull?”
“Without going into detail, yeah. It’s an experiment. I figure, if I can get hard watching those girls, then at least I know I’m not broken.”
I lean closer to him. “You haven’t been able to get a fucking hard-on? At all?”
