Page 57 of Jackrabbit

Beau stepped in front of him and pushed a backpack into his arms, held the top handle and gave Colt a slow once over with his pretty eyes.

“Never said it was,” he drawled, before dropping his aviators onto his face and walking away.

Colt gaped, clutching the bag to his chest.

Had he just—

No way.

You're imagining things, Rourke.

The bag Beau had given him turned out to be a black and neon green hydro pack.

Fucking thoughtful.

But Colt wouldn't bebribed,okay, he had standards.

“Get over here, boy,” Beau rumbled from the tree line.

Okay, maybe he could be bribed if it was in combination withthattone. Colt slipped his arms through the backpack straps and jogged to catch up.

Beau hiked like he did everything else - slow, sure, and with purpose. There wasn't a path, but he seemed to know where he was going anyway. Which was a good thing, because Colt’s sense of direction was shit. Combined with theway his eyes kept fixing on Beau's back like magnets, he'd have been fucked in a not-so-fun way if he'd had any say in the direction.

They'd been walking long enough for Colt’s brain to start wandering when he decided to stop being a petty bitch and walk next to Beau instead.

“So,” Colt started as he hopped up on a rock and jumped back down in front of Beau. “Where's this in the job description?”

Beau let out a sigh. “Just can't help yourself, can you?”

It didn't sound mean, or angry, or like he'd kind of like to toss Colt off a cliff. Colt turned to walk backwards in front of Beau and took a long drink from the pack on his back. “Just trying to figure out theparameters, you know, the rules.”

“Colt…”

Colt nearly ate shit tripping over a tree branch, so he turned to walk next to Beau again. “Like, okay. Meal plan, gym time, buying me clothes—sure. I buy it. You’re an excellent coach. Top notch.”

“If you break your neck, I really will leave you for the bears.” Beau hadn't looked at Colt once.

So Colt barrelled on like he hadn't said anything at all. “Just wondering where ‘carry your athlete to your bed and tuck him in’ sits in the rule book.”

Beau was quiet, his jaw ticking. Probably a good idea to shut up now.

“Is it between ‘always make sure your athlete stretches’ and ‘make him smoothies and toss him in the pool when he's self-destructing'?”

“Why are you pushing this?” Beau finally snapped, planting his feet.

Colt stopped a couple of steps later and turned back around. He crossed his arms. “Because you held me in your lap while I cried, put me into your bed, and the next morning you handed me breakfast and spent the next few days acting like Mr. Moore again. It's weird. It's confusing. And, you know, it's kind of a dick move, actually.”

Beau worked his jaw and looked at the trees, then back at Colt. “You're right. That was a dick move.” He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair.

Colt blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t—” Beau ran a hand over his mouth and down his jaw. “You might’ve noticed that I don’t have many friends. I don’t let people in my space, and I definitely don’t let people stay over. I haven’t woken up with a man in my bed in a decade.”

Haven’t woken up with a man in my—HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

It took every single ounce of Colt's self-control not to let his face show the goddamn circus floor show of thoughts happening in his head right now. Beau had just come out to him.

Or had he?