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Jed took a moment to process the conversation as Remy grabbed a pair of dark jeans out of his backpack and started pulling them on. Wriggling them on, really, about a foot in front of Jed’s face. They were so tight it was basically indecent.

At least Remy had turned away, so it was just his ass waving around in front of Jed’s face and not his dick. But for fuck’s sake, how was he supposed to treat Remy like any other player or wait for Remy to decide to make a move—or whatever the fuck Hal was suggesting he should do—when Remy looked like that? Right in front of him? Close enough to touch?

Because Jed did want to touch. Pretty badly.

Once Remy had the jeans on, he added a tight olive shirt with a deep vee that showed off his collarbones and brought out the color in his lips and cheeks. He tugged it once or twice like he thought it didn’t fit quite right before finally looking at Jed again.

“Don’t make fun of me. This is Petey’s shirt, and I know it’s too fucking small. But he’s making me do this.”

“Wasn’t gonna make fun,” Jed said honestly, noting to himself that that meant Remy was wearing his own jeans, which showed off his ass way too spectacularly for Jed’s taste. At least, too spectacularly for Remy to be sharing with the rest of the world.

And then for God-knows-what reason, he added, “Although, are you sure you’re going to make it the whole night in those jeans?”

“They’re fine. I mean, as long as I don’t bend over.” And then Remy’s cheeks started to flush, and Jed had an irrational urge to smooth his thumb across the color and see if Remy’s skin was as heated as it looked. He knew without a doubt that they were both thinking about Remy bending over without those jeans on.

There was no comment Jed could make that would improve the situation, which meant that he should absolutely keep his mouth shut. But Remy didn’t look very happy. It was one thing for Petey to proclaim Remy needed to get laid and take him to a club. Petey hooked up at clubs all the time. But Jed was pretty sure that Remy didn’t.

“Remy, you just saw Mike, and you seemed upset about it. You can say no to Petey, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Remy tugged at the shirt again and looked off over Jed’s shoulder. “But maybe he’s right. Isn’t that the best way to get over someone? Get under someone else?”

Well, Jed didn’t like that idea one bit. But fuck it all, Remy wasn’t his—didn’t seem to be thinking about being his, either, whatever Hal thought he saw—and there was nothing more he had a right to do or say. Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, though, because Remy tilted his head and just looked at him until Jed was feeling hot all over, tingling with restless energy.

He was maybe two seconds from doing something totally reckless like grabbing Remy and telling him that he shouldn’t go when Moreau broke in between them.

“Ready, Lads? You comin’ with us, Monty?”

“No.” Jed was maybe too vehement about that, but Moreau didn’t say anything about it.

“Your loss. I’ve never struck out at this club, and I’m not starting now.” Moreau turned to Remy and gave a whistle as he looked Remy up and down. “And this guy’s looking hot as fuck, am I right? This is gonna be a fantastic night, I can feel it.”

With a wink at Jed, Moreau shoved what looked like a condom and a lube packet in the pocket of Remy’s jeans. And Remy just rolled his eyes, tucked them in more securely, and followed Petey out without another glance in Jed’s direction.

Jed did not go straight back to his room to sulk.

No, he was mature about it.

He went to the hotel bar, had a drink sitting in a dark corner by himself, and then went back to his room to sulk.

He could admit that’s what he was doing. He could admit that Hal had gotten his hopes up. He could also admit that he disliked the idea of Remy out there having fun with someone else. And he really disliked the idea of Remy pulling out that condom and letting some other person peel his jeans off to find out how long and heavy Remy was underneath them.

Fuck. Jed got in the shower, cranked up the hot water, and stood there for a good long time, trying to relax enough to fall asleep. It didn’t work its usual magic, so after he dried off, he settled down on the bed, got out his tablet, and tried to focus on the new spy show Bakesy had convinced him to check out. It was difficult to keep his mind on it because Moreau kept posting updates and selfies to the team chat. One of them showed McBride with his arm around Remy, hand dangling down Remy’s chest, thumb splayed against Remy’s bare collarbone, captioned “#hotenoughtomelttheice”.

Jed wondered, not for the first time, whether McBride was actually straight, and also what it would feel like to touch Remy like that. What it would feel like to lay down a line of kisses against the ridge of Remy’s collarbone and lick the hollow of his throat.

With that thought, Jed felt a wave of despair. How had he made it to thirty-four without ever getting wound up over a guy, and now, if he was honest with himself, he was basically infatuated with someone both far too young for him and in every other respect way out of his league?

Even if Remy was attracted to Jed, it seemed pretty fucking clear that he was never going to act on it. Jed needed to let it go. He would be there for Remy as a mentor and as a friend, and that would damn well have to be enough.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REMY

The club was a disaster. It wasn’t like Remy hadn’t tried to get into it. He liked dancing and hanging out with Petey and Jake. And it hadn’t taken long for company to find him. A tall, slim, blond guy with eyeliner and plush lips who ground up against him for a couple of songs and then led Remy into a back hall.

Remy hadn’t protested as the guy pushed him into the wall, sucking on Remy’s neck as he tried to work open Remy’s jeans. Remy wanted to enjoy it—the guy was cute and good with his mouth—and he was almost able to get into it. But the guy’s smell was all wrong, and his hands were smooth and slender, and it hit Remy hard that he’d rather be hanging out with Jed right then, even if Jed never looked at him the way this guy was looking at him.

It would take him a while to forget the disdain on the guy’s face when Remy gently pushed him back and said, “I’m sorry, it’s me, you’re great, I just need to leave.”