“This one here must be your lucky charm.” Murph tilts his head to me, grinning, before taking the empty glasses off Bowen’s tray and walking towards the kitchen. “You wanna start wiping down the tables, please?”
“Sure thing.” Bowen nods and grabs a rag from behind the bar.
Now, with Murph gone, and Harrison and Finn ignoring everything but each other in the back corner booth, I allow myself to stare at Bowen. He’s busy, bent over one of the tables, scrubbing away. His shirt is lifting at the waist just a little so I can see the smooth skin of his lower back. His butt is pressed into his jeans and God damn it’s a great ass. His triceps and biceps flex as he rubs down the table, a couple strands of his golden hair escape the elastic he’s using to try and hold it back at the base of his neck. That neck that felt so fucking good under my lips. What I wouldn’t do to walk up behind him right now and kiss the back of that neck of his while he’s bent over and have my cock slide right in between…
He moves to another table and glances my way. I’m busted. He doesn’t seem to mind. He just smiles his sexy, lazy smile and continues his chores. I reach for my wine glass but it’s already empty again. I really can’t indulge in another one. Then I’ll have crossed into the totally drunk zone and I’ll have to work hungover tomorrow. I hate working hungover. So I should just go home… alone… but a few more minutes ogling Bowen’s ass will at least give me some prime masturbation material.
Someone clears their throat. My head snaps around and I find Murph watching me. Busted again. And thisisn’tokay. Murph doesn’t know I’m gay and can’t know. I stand up and dig my wallet out of my messenger bag on the stool beside me. “I was just wondering what kind of cleaner you guys use here? Because I’m looking for a new… disinfectant. Something organic or like environmentally friendly.”
Oh my God, do I really expect Murph to believe this? I almost want to laugh out loud at my own shitty excuse. Murph is gracious enough not to laugh though. “I think it’s just a water, lemon, and vinegar solution. I can ask Harrison if you want. Or Tanner tomorrow.”
“Nah. I’ll ask him next time I see him, no worries.” I hand him a couple of bills and grab my bag. “I’ll see ya around, Murph.”
Bowen is standing up now, done with wiping the tables. He lifts his forearm to his forehead to brush his hair back and starts to walk over to me. “Thanks again for the paper samples. Such a brilliant idea.”
“And don’t forget to ask Auden about the vegetable-based inks he can use,” I reply and grab my suit jacket from the little hook it’s been hanging on under the bar. I opt to drop it over my arm instead of putting it on. “I’ll see ya at the next practice.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.” Bowen nods and his smile feels intimate now, but maybe I’m just drunk.
“You know, I can handle the rest of the clean-up,” Murph announces. “It was a really easy night. There isn’t much more to do. Why don’t you head out Bowen?”
“Really?”
“Sure.” Murph nods. “I feel like not spilling drinks or breaking glasses for the last eight hours must have taken a lot out of you. Go home, rest up. You’re on again tomorrow night, aren’t you?”
Bowen nods and laughs. “I’m going to take you up on this, but not because I’m exhausted from not fucking up. But because I didn’t sleep well last night and could use the extra Zs.”
“Mmm...hmm.” That doesn’t sound like Murph believes his co-worker but then he smiles again. “Go. See ya tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Bowen turns to me. “Wanna walk with me? I parked not far from your place.”
“Sure,” I say casually but for some drunken reason inside I’m cheering like my team just won the Stanley Cup. Hell, likeIdid. “Wouldn’t want to leave you alone on the mean streets of Burlington.”
Bowen and Murph both laugh. “Meet you out front.”
I nod and head out the door. Murph waves as I go. Bowen appears a couple minutes later, holding the paper samples I gave him and wearing a khaki jacket over his T-shirt. His hair is finally free of the elastic, which wasn’t really containing it anyway. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
We start to walk down Church Street, side-by-side, hands in our pockets. Bowen has the paper tucked under his arm and he glances down at it and back up at me. “I may actually be able to sell him on the idea of paper promotional materials now.”
“Good. Happy to help,” I say. “Keep me posted on how it goes.”
“I will.”
There’s a rumble of thunder in the distance. The storm that’s been threatening to start all day may finally be ready to make an appearance. Either that or it’s the universe warning me to back off.
“Did you really get a shit night’s sleep last night?” I ask because I’m scrambling to say anything other than ‘come home with me and let’s fuck around again.’
“I don’t sleep well in general. It’s why I have the weed.” He pulls his little metal container out of his pocket and then promptly sticks it back in.
“It really works, huh?”
“It can. For lots of things from insomnia to anxiety and panic attacks to muscle and joint pain, even helps with nausea for chemo patients,” Bowen explains. I’ve read some stuff about the benefits of marijuana, but Bowen seems to have read a hell of a lot more. “Vermont wants to keep growing to smaller sized farms, which is great, but for the zoning they’re leaving it up to mayors and city councils to decide and my brother is the only candidate who has an ethical, feasible zoning plan for it.”
“Lacey doesn’t?”
“Lacey doesn’t want it within the city at all,” Bowen says. “The other candidate has a plan with so few permits available that we simply wouldn’t be able to keep up the supply. Retailers would have to be bringing in product from farms outside the area. Why throw that money at non-local farmers when we could be giving it to local ones?”
