Page 75 of Jackrabbit

“No way.” Xavier gasped. “Oh, shit! It is! Get it Rourke. Look at you. Walk of shame never looked so good, my guy.”

Beau’s stomach twisted. He slipped out from behind the desk and went into the shop. It was definitely Colt, pulling himself out of a black Bentley wearing—

Christ.

Sinful. Colt had on jeans that slipped down his trim waist, and Beau could damn well see the whole of that waist because Colt had on jeans that slipped down his trim waist and a racing flag tee he’d cut into a crop top. Eyeliner was smudged under his eyes, his hair was a mess that told a whole story Beau didn’t want to think about, and there was a neon fishnet top dangling out of his back pocket.

A man stepped out of the driver’s side, Beau’s age, handsome in a crisp gray button-up and slacks.

“Rourke, who’s the silver fox?” Liam called.

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, was it good enough for him to let me drive his Bentley around the block? OW, Mila, damn!”

Colt laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, and Beau could hear the sound of his own teeth grinding.

“Sorry about them,” Colt said to the other man. He grinned at him with both dimples. “Thanks for the ride, Sam.”

“Ooooohhh,Sam!” Xavier called as he shook James’ shoulders. “Hi, Sam!”

Samlaughed, pleasant and genuine, and Beau tucked his hand in his pocket to keep it from curling into a fist. The other man waved at the guys, who cackled like a bunch of dumbass, wild animals.

“I had a good time,” Sam said, not even having the fucking decency to quiet his voice as he leaned closer to Colt and brushed his fingers against his neck like he had any goddamn right. “I leave Thursday, but if you want to get together again before that, you have my number.”

“Yeah,” Colt agreed, and Beau took a sharp breath in through his nose. “Same. Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

Then Sam pulled Colt in for a soft, chaste kiss to the soundtrack of the guys losing their minds, and Beau couldn’t watch anymore. He left the shop and shut the door with the image of Colt kissing another man burned into his retinas.

His hand shook as he poured himself another coffee at the station behind the desk, and he didn’t turn around as the Bentley drove off and the shop door opened.

“Morning,” Colt greeted, casual as you please.

Beau did turn around then, which was a mistake because he was close enough now to see the hickey forming at the base of Colt’s throat. Soft purple, light enough that if he weren't standing so close he would have thought it was a smudge of dirt. His hand tightened on his mug, and he set it down carefully on the counter.

There was something loose-limbed and pleased about the way Colt was handling himself. He pulled out his coveralls and dropped the fishnet top into the box he used to store things while he was on shift, unselfconscious about his state, being seen, being watched.

Beau took his coffee and went into his office before he did something he'd regret.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he’d looked at that man like—

Stop.

This was exactly what he’d wanted. He’d given Colt an ultimatum, hadn’t he? Wanted Colt to not want him because—

Because why?

Beau pushed his forehead into his palm.

If anything, we’re each other’s hobby.

And wasn't that the goddamn truth? Sitting at his desk seething like a fool, all his arguments and reservations felt just as thin as Colt had said they were. He'd painted Colt as a kid, and Colt had gone and proven Beau incredibly wrong. Now Colt had been satisfied by someone else, and Beau was still here wanting him. He wanted Colt so badly. Wanted the agent of chaos who strapped himself into a death trap every week. Beau’s chest seized and he smelled hot metal and the sweet smell of burning racing fuel before he shoved the memory down with all the others like it.

Colt left for Joyce’s at 10:15 after storing his coveralls with the fishnet top and bounding toward the door. Cheerful like he hadn’t been in the past thirty-six hours—since their kiss. Like he’d gotten the joy fucked back into him.

He strode back in at 2:15 looking tired, his jeans slipping even lower. Jesus.