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Remy wasn’t either. Jed had gone with fitted black dress pants and a light gray dress shirt that made his eyes look even icier than usual, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. He’d put on a chunky silver watch that Remy had never seen him wear before, but that drew his eyes to Jed’s big, capable-looking hands. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. He was going to expire if he didn’t get those hands on him tonight one way or another.

Lily cleared her throat pointedly, and he gave her an embarrassed smile. Yeah, she knew exactly what he was thinking. She looked ready for a party in a sparkly halter top and jeans and, he was happy to see, reasonably short heels that wouldn’t have her tripping or stumbling over the icy sidewalks. She also had a large leather tote, which she noticed him looking at.

“My toothbrush and something to wear tomorrow, in case I decide to crash with Petey,” she explained, patting the bag.

“I hate that idea.”

“Hmm. Why does that make it even more attractive to me?”

Remy tried to make a stern face at her, and she made an exaggeratedly innocent face back, and Jed said, “Okay, are we doing this or what?”

And then Jed touched the small of Remy’s back to nudge him toward the door. It was brief, just the tips of his fingers, really, but it was enough to make Remy shiver. He could feel how tall and broad Jed was behind him, and imagine just what it would be like if Jed pressed up against him.

Damn it.

This was going to be an uncomfortable car ride.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JED

They’d only been at the club for twenty minutes, and Jed was already losing his mind. The day had been terrifyingly good up to that point. Terrifyingly like Remy was his, without any need to discuss it. It’d felt so natural to spend the day walking around and enjoying the scenery, listening to Remy and Lily tease each other and occasionally joining in.

And now they were in a nightclub where Jed couldn’t forget that he and Remy weren’t actually together, and that Lily might even have arranged this thinking that Remy would find someone appropriately hot and down for something fun and easy. The opposite of Jed, in other words.

Yeah, Jed had known that going clubbing wouldn’t be any fun. He just hadn’t realized that it would be excruciatingly painful.

Remy was drop-dead gorgeous in that ridiculously unbuttoned shirt and jeans that framed his ass perfectly, and Jed wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Remy was mostly dancing with McBride while Moreau showed off his moves with Lily, but several people were edging closer, clearly planning to take their chances. He knew that Remy wasn’t shy about dancing. He knew how hard it had been the last time they went out to see Remy moving his body like that, losing himself in the music, letting strangers touch him.

There was no way Jed was going to get through this without a drink or three. And not his standard beer.

Resting an elbow on the bar, it didn’t take him long to catch the bartender’s eye. And from the flirty look the guy gave him, he was both queer and a hockey fan. Or maybe a fan of hockey players. Or maybe just good at his job.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, eyes running up and down Jed’s torso before meeting Jed’s with a smile.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “That’s a drink for drowning sorrows, man. And you’ve been a wall this season. Team’s doing great.”

“Thanks.” Hockey fan, then. “Still.”

“Whiskey it is.”

The bartender made a show of pouring generously. Jed paid and stuffed a twenty in the glass on the bar, taking his time before turning around again. Talking to fans—or bartenders, or any stranger—wasn’t usually his favorite activity, although he made himself do it because he knew he wouldn’t have a job without people who paid good money to watch him play a game. But right now, he wouldn’t mind having something to do other than face the dance floor again. It was just his luck that the bar was busy and the bartender had already moved away.

Throwing back a big sip that burned hard on the way down, Jed steeled himself and turned back to the dance floor. Remy was still right there on the edge of it, his hand on the hip of a slender dancer whose face was tilted up toward Remy’s like Remy was the only other person in the room. Remy’s head was thrown back, and he looked like he was feeling the music and not much else.

Jed nursed his drink for two more songs and then downed a second drink during the two songs after that, wondering whether Remy would actually notice or care if he left at this point. Finally, as Jed was on the brink of ordering a third, Remy leaned down, said something to his dance partner, and made his way over to the bar.

“Are you going to hang out here all night?” Remy leaned around Jed to signal the bartender.

Jed could smell his sweat and the sharp scent of sandalwood. It wasn’t Remy’s usual clean citrus smell. Going-out aftershave, Jed guessed. Or getting-laid aftershave. Was Remy planning to try to pick up tonight, after all? Jed had been harboring some hope that the effort Remy had put into his appearance was for his benefit, but all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure.

“Maybe.” Jed put his empty glass down on the bar.

“Hey, could I get some lime and soda, please?” Remy asked as the bartender appeared. He glanced over at Jed. “Want another?”