Page 22 of Sinful Sharing

“Well, damn.” Someone drops onto the stool beside me. “I was starting to wonder if you’d skipped town.”

I twist in the seat. Toby grins back at me. He has dark hair, a round face, and a slender body that has been under mine more times than I can count. “Hey,” I reply.

He reaches for my drink and empties it in one gulp, then licks his lips. An action that would usually stir something inside me, but I feel nothing. His knee brushes mine. His smile turns lazy. “So... busy tonight?”

I understand what he means. We’ve done this dance several times. He’ll buy the next round, and we’ll flirt, then leave for his place—never mine. Before dawn, I’ll be on my way home without exchanging more than a goodbye. He wouldn’t take offense. He knows that at some point, our paths will cross again.

And for one moment, I consider it. I haven’t had sex in days—a record. But as Toby waves to Murphy, Taylor flashes across my mind. I think of him struggling to hammer a nail in the fence the other day. I see him laughing at something crazy I said during dinner tonight. The memory of those impossibly blue eyes staring back at me triggers a hollow ache in the center of my chest.

Suddenly, the bar sounds unbearably loud. The stool digs uncomfortably into my skin. Toby orders another round, but I wave him off and push to my feet.

His grin widens as he stands, too. “Meet you at my place.”

“Not tonight.” It comes out firmer than I intend.

“Are you sure?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I reach for my wallet, pulling out cash.

“It’s not like you to turn down a good time,” he says.

“First time for everything.”

He reaches up to touch my forehead with the back of his hand. I jerk my head back. “Seriously, are you feeling okay?”

Funny question, because no, I’m not. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. But somehow, I think I know where I might start feeling right again. “I’m going home.”

Toby studies me for another second before nodding. “Rain check?”

I manage a smile. “Maybe.”

It’s a lie. We both know it. His expression softens just enough to confirm that he knows it too.

“Take care of yourself, Jude.”

“You too.”

The chilly night air hits me the second I step outside. I inhale deeply, taking brisk steps toward my truck in the parking lot. By the time I’m behind the wheel, something inside me hums. Anticipation. Excitement. It absolutely makes no damn sense. Soon, the ranch comes into view, the porch light glowing against the darkness like a beacon. I park at the end of the driveway. A thrill races through me as I climb the front steps and hurry inside.

Warm light spills from the living room, pulling my attention. I find Taylor curled up on the couch beneath an old patchwork blanket—fast asleep. His cheek rests against the armrest, one hand tucked under it. For a moment, I stand there, watching his slow, steady breathing. He looks so comfortable, as if he’s been here a lot longer than a few weeks.

Something inside my chest eases. A soft smile forms on my face. For some reason, I don’t feel out of place anymore.

Deciding to let him sleep, I turn to go.

Then pause.

Roman sits in an armchair in the corner, his eyes fastened on Taylor, a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same conflicted look I’d seen the other night. Only this time, the longing and confusion are even more intense. It’s even more obvious that he’s fighting a battle he doesn’t know how to win.

His gaze shifts to me. Recognition passes between us. Guilt floods his features as he pushes himself out of the chair and, without a single word, he walks past me. Our shoulders brush, but he doesn’t look back. A second later, his footsteps fade down the hallway.

My eyes drift back to Taylor. He’s still sleeping, still completely unaware that after tonight, things will never be the same.

14

Jude

“Taylor’s gay.”