Page 31 of Throw Down

“Okay,” he said, clutching the leash to his chest and slowly backingaway.“I get it. I guess I just figured you had thicker skin thanthis.I didn’t peg you asinsecure.There’s no need to run away from how something makes youfeel.”

Derek’s eyes were ice cold. “What I feel or don’t feel is none of yourbusiness.”

Briar sputtered. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Derek’s smile wasruthless.

“Fine!”

Briar turned on his heel and marched briskly toward thegate.Princess trotted beside him, whining and casting longing glances behind them every fewseconds.

Briar couldn’t blame her. He felt the sameway.Every atom in his body was pulling at him to goback.Even after he started up the van and screamed into his steering wheel, he couldn’t resist taking a quick glance in his rearview mirror, vainly hoping to catch one last glimpse ofDerek.

But Derek wasn’t there.

He hadn’t even bothered to watch himleave.

Chapter Twelve

DEREK

The late afternoon sun was scorching, reflecting off dented chrome and making the entire yard shimmer with oppressive heat.Scraggly clumps of sedge sprouted in the shade of abandoned vehicles, but they were already wilted and yellow from the temperamental weather.Another month, and they’d be dead.

An old Black Sabbath album blared from Derek’s Bluetooth speaker, echoing off the undercarriage of the Buick he was working on.It filled his head with white noise but never quite managed to drown the litany of disgust and self-loathing that pounded through his brain.

He’d been stripping cars for so long that his shoulders screamed with every torque of the wrench, but he refused to slow the punishing workload.Sweat soaked his worn-out t-shirt and dripped down his arms, mixing with the grime and dried blood on his split knuckles.

The salvage yard wasn’t much, but it had been his second home since before he knew how to shave.The men who’d once taught him everything they knew were now his employees, and the office where he used to nap between jobs now belonged to him.People always wrinkled their noses whenever they entered the property, but the distinctive stench of metal and oil comforted him.He was in control here. It was mindless work, but there was still something satisfying in taking the broken, wasted bones of decayed vehicles and once more turning them into something useful.

He couldn't seem to find that satisfaction today.Whenever he thought of the wounded look on Briar’s face, something deep inside his chest lurched painfully.Something that felt like his heart.

The kid put on a good show, but Derek knew he'd hurt him, and he felt like shit about it.

Briar pretended to be some vapid city boy, but he had substance.It had been obvious from the first moment they met.There was a deliberate sweetness to him, but it wasn't born of naivete.He said he'd grown up in the foster system, so chances were he'd seen plenty of the wrong side of life, but he still chose to stubbornly, cheerfully look on the bright side.Probably because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life a miserable bastard like Derek.

God, he was sweet.

Derek had never kissed another man.Never even touched one. He’d locked all those desires away in the deepest, darkest pit of his soul and refused to think of them.Even if he sometimes still found himself looking at another man a little too long, he’d never acted on it, and he never would.He’d made a promise. As far as anyone would ever know, he was straight, and he was planning to stay that way no matter how soft Briar’s skin was.No matter how perfectly he fit in Derek's arms.

Derek had always prided himself on his self-control.There was nothing he couldn't do without.But he seemed unable to resist those big gray eyes of Briar's, or the way a tiny little dimple popped in his cheek when he smiled.So, he had to stay away, or more precisely, he had to keep Briar from wanting anything to do with him.

But it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d just removed a Buick's drivetrain and loaded the parts into the back of his truck when a fast-moving cloud of red dust caught his attention.He recognized the familiar paint job of West’s old delivery truck as he pulled through the front gate.

Derek cursed and hung his head, ignoring the droplets of sweat that shook out from the tips of his hair.

If there was one thing he was never in the mood for, it was dealing with his baby brother.But especially not today, when the wounded twist of Briar’s kiss-bruised lips still dogged his every thought.

West parked his truck amid the piles of old junkers, engine protesting with a series of clicks and rattles that had Derek itching to look under the hood.He stepped out from behind the wheel, cowboy-slim, the complete opposite of Derek’s heavy bulk.He wasn’t anything special; none of them were, but his clothes were tidy and his hair fell unfussily over his forehead, clean and shiny, just like the rest of him.He always looked fresh and happy.

“What the hell, Derek!” West yelled, closing on him with ground-eating strides.“Answer your damn phone once in a while!”

His words were swallowed by a metallic squeal as Derek pried a door off its last rusted hinge.

“Not now, West,” Derek grunted without looking at him.“I’m not in the mood.”

West stopped a few feet away, examining him closely before muttering, “Like I've never heard that before.”

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