Page 40 of Jackrabbit

Maybe he just hadn't wanted to.

He stared at the way Colt’s ass shifted under his jeans and then told himself to stop right after, tearing his gaze up just in time to see Colt fix someone else with that big, dimpled grin. When he followed where Colt was looking, he found apretty young girl wearing a tiny skirt and a tinier top. She was looking at Colt with the kind of look that meant she wanted something more than a drink.

Beau was still watching as Colt approached and leaned down to talk into her ear. As one of his hands touched her wrist, and she blushed.

“You just gonna sit here and let that happen?” Joyce asked as she sidled up next to him.

Beau hummed and finished his whiskey. “Let what happen?”

“Oh, please.” Joyce took his glass and put it on the bar. “You're gonna let some young girl paw that boy right in front of you?”

“I'm his coach. Not his keeper.” Beau shrugged and caught the bartender's eye so he could order another round. “S'not my business.”

His eyes kept wandering anyway as that girl put her hand on Colt’s chest and stepped closer. Joyce slid a whiskey into Beau's palm. Colt’s hand came around to rest on the girl’s lower back.

“Not your business because you've been willfully blind for months, maybe.” Joyce came to stand in front of him, and he tore his gaze away from Colt in time to watch her chuckle. “That boy has been panting after you since the second he stepped foot in your shop. You were just too blind to see it.”

Beau scowled. “He has not. Hero worship isn't the same thing as wanting someone.”

He caught movement, and flicked his gaze over Joyce's shoulder. That dimpled grin and all of Colt’s focus were on the girl. Leaning back against the pool table, he was busy pulling her between his legs.

“Maybe not.” Joyce kept talking even though Beau wasn't looking at her. “But anyone with eyes could see the way it's changed. That boy wants to beyourboy.”

“Seems like what he wants is to get fucking laid,” Beau snapped as Colt’s hand wandered down over the curve of her ass.

Joyce laughed, and Beau turned his glare back on her. Entirely unbothered, Joyce poked him in the chest with her finger. “He wants to fuck wanting you out of his system. I'd bet my diner on it.”

“Quit your meddling, will you?” Beau took a long drink of whiskey. “It ain't gonna happen.”

“Mhmm,” Joyce said, pitching her voice low. She patted his chest. “We'll see, honey.”

Then she wandered off to where a couple of her employees were playing darts, and Beau had nothing left to do but watch. He watched as Colt laughed his charming laugh, as he pushed the girl's long hair off her shoulder. He watched as she pressed closer, probably rubbing her chest all against Colt’s. And he was still watching when Colt gently held the back of her neck and leaned down. For a second he hovered with his lips near hers. Teasing, maybe. Or asking permission. Beau wasn't sure, but hewassure that as they pressed their lips together, he had to set down his glass.

He couldn't look away, either as Colt gripped her ass and pulled her closer. Even from here, Beau could tell there was tongue.

And the worst part, the fucked up core of the thing, was that watching the way Colt kissed this girl he'd just met with such intensity was getting Beau riled at the same time as he was getting pissed off. He wanted to rip that boy away and throw him over his shoulder. To carry him out and—

And what?

Hadn't he already decided this couldn't happen? It was good that Colt was turning his attention elsewhere, good that he was going to take that girl home and fuck her senseless and stop thinking about Beau.

Right. Good.

***

Olivia was pretty. She was funny. And she was pretty damn hot, okay, so it wasn’t like Colt wasn’t having a good time. He liked flirting, he loved kissing, and he liked the way a soft body felt against his. It was fine.

But that’s really all it was. Just fine.

All the ass grabbing, the way she was starting to subtly grind against him, her hand creeping up his shirt—it should be hot. He should be getting ready to stop the free show they were putting on and take her home.

Instead, he opened his eyes, way too tipsy to lie about what he was looking for. Or who.

Beau was right where Colt had left him, leaning against the bar with his whiskey glass by his elbow and looking supremely fuckable. And he was watching Colt. It was too dark for Colt to get a good read on his expression, and Beau had an amazing poker face anyway. Colt knew what he wanted to see, though.

Jealousy.

He wanted Beau to see him playing tonsil hockey with a hot, curvy girl and burn with jealousy. Because maybe then he’d drain his whiskey and make his way over. Slow and deliberate, like everything Beau did. Maybe he’d grab Colt by the back of his neck and call him a slut and take him home and—