There was a strange detachment in Carson’s voice. Like he was trying to decipher what was transpiring between them.
“Yeah,” Atticus blurted. “Yeah. I wanna kiss him again. Which is why I need to go. Now.”
“I tried tellin’ him he could stay in my guest room,” Slade stated, not looking at either of them. “I won’t cross any boundaries.”
Atticus snorted. “Boundaries? I don’t think either of you even knows what that word means.”
Yeah, he was angry. So fucking what? He was pissed at Carson for planting the seed in his head. He was pissed at Slade for kissing him and making him want something he shouldn’t want. And most importantly, he was pissed at himself for getting caught up in this. Walking away was his only option.
“Why don’t we grab dinner?” Carson offered.
“I already ate,” he bit out, sounding far more petulant than he intended.
Carson looked at Slade, then back to him. “Okay. Then why don’t we go back to my place? All three of us. So we can talk this out.”
“Talk?” Atticus snorted again. “You wanna talk?”
No, he didn’t buy it. This was a setup. Had to be. These two were up to their old games. Atticus would go back to Carson’s place and find himself the filling in some hot guy sandwich. No. No way.
“I think it’s time I explain a few things,” Carson said. “To both of you.”
Atticus saw Slade flinch out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure what the reaction was for, and Slade didn’t bother to say anything to give him a clue.
“I owe you an explanation,” Carson told Slade. “I get that it’s too little too late, but I think it needs to be said.”
“You two should do that,” Atticus told them, turning toward his truck. “I’ll be heading to Dallas.”
Carson moved forward, curling his fingers around Atticus’s wrist.
Damn the man for touching him. His body flared to life as he remembered everything that happened last night. Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that he’d felt something with Carson. Thenandnow. Something he couldn’t remember feeling before.
“Please let me explain. If you want to leave after that, I won’t try to stop you.”
Atticus looked at Slade and noticed the man was watching him closely.
“You said you had questions,” Slade said softly. “Maybe this is the best way to get answers.”
Or it was the best way to get dragged into the middle of something that would no doubt end badly. Atticus wasn’t an idiot. He was surrounded by temptation, and he wasn’t strong on a good day. If either of them attempted to seduce him, he wasn’t sure he could resist.
“Only to talk?” he asked, turning his attention back to Carson.
“Yes.”
He looked at Slade, who nodded in agreement.
“Fine.”
“Would you mind if I rode with you?” Carson asked. “I took an Uber.”
Which meant Carson had intended to get drunk tonight. Considering how intoxicated he was last night, Atticus had to wonder whether that was a trend. He also wondered whether that had played a part in what happened between them.
Atticus spared one more look at Slade.
“If you don’t want me there, I’ll—”
“I do,” Atticus cut him off. “Because I want some fucking answers.”
Slade nodded once. “I do, too.”
