Page 35 of Throw Down

“I stand out?” Briar asked incredulously.

“You mentioned on the app that you were a transplant.If I were you, I’d try to adopt more of an urban-country aesthetic.Cowboy chic, if you know what I mean.”

Briar had just taken a sip of his soda, and he choked at the words cowboy chic.A brief flash of Derek’s damp t-shirt and blue jeans streaked through his head.That was as chic as it got in a place like this, and it was perfect.

The conversation flowed easily while they waited for their orders, but it flowed in only one direction.Briar wasn’t required to do much more than nod and make an occasional sympathetic noise in his throat.

He caught himself glancing at the door every so often, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar dark-haired giant.But no, he chided himself, he was trying something new.Even if this date was an unmitigated disaster, at least he wasn’t sitting at home, pining over someone he could never have.

He glanced out over the darkened town.The stars were now fully visible, twinkling in a thick cluster over the mountaintops.It was a beautiful night. If only it wasn't wasted on the wrong man.

A sudden change of pitch in Peter’s constant drone pulled him back to reality.

“What was that?” he asked, frowning.

“A sustainable art installation,” Peter repeated impatiently.“This town is clearly lacking in the art scene.”

“Mrs. Thompson paints watercolors of her cats and sells them at the Sunday market,” Briar said wryly.“Does that count?”

“Like I said, you desperately need a sustainable art installation.”

“Sweetwater needs more important things first,” Briar said, feeling mentally exhausted.“Like a community health center and a pizza place that delivers.”

“That’s small-town thinking,” Peter said with a condescending smile.“You’re already becoming one of them.Better be careful. Places like this rough you up.Pretty soon you’ll lose your twunk charm.”

“My what?” Briar asked, so taken aback that he stopped casting longing glances toward the entrance and gave the man his full attention.

“Don’t be coy,” Peter said with an artificial laugh.“You’re definitely a twunk.”

“You mean a twink?” Briar asked, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“Oh, don’t be offended. I like it.” Peter placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward to whisper confidentially, “I’ll be the top, of course.Your profile photo screamed bottom.I’ll admit that I was concerned I wouldn’t find you attractive, but I made sure to take a Viagra in the parking lot.You don’t need to worry on that front.”

So that was the reason he’d been shifting uncomfortably in his seat every few minutes.

“But it won’t be a problem,” Peter continued blithely, unaware of Briar’s horror.“You’re very pretty for a man.”

“What makes you think I’d bottom for you?” Briar asked, completely exasperated.He set his drink down carefully.It suddenly seemed very important for him to line it up just-so on his cocktail napkin.“What makes you think we’re even having sex?”

“That much is a given. After all—”

“Here’s your rib-eye,” the server barked, appearing out of nowhere and slapping a plate down in front of Peter.The loud clatter drew glances from nearby patrons.She set Briar's meal down with considerably more care, but Briar studiously avoided meeting her eyes.

“Thank you,” Peter said graciously, and then he ruined it by catching her apron before she could escape.“Before you go, I have a question for you.Who’s top and who’s bottom?”

“What?” She pointedly removed his fingers from her apron.

Peter leaned back in his chair and gestured magnanimously between the two of them, puffing out his chest to appear broader.His expression was encouraging when he asked, “Which of us do you think is the top, and which do you think is the bottom?”

Briar’s cheeks were so hot it felt like he’d been blasted by a furnace. He wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but the universe hadn’t been in a wish-granting mood so far and it wasn’t about to start now.

“That’s none of my business,” the server said emphatically.She sounded revolted, but Briar couldn’t blame her.He felt the same way.

“It’s definitely me,” Peter assured them both with a forced laugh.“Size matters, and I’m above-average in that respect.”

The server’s face was red. She looked like she was about to cry.Incensed on her behalf, Briar had just opened his mouth to rip into the jerk when a tall, imposing figure stepped behind the woman and dropped a hand on her shoulder.

It was Derek, hair tousled, clad in a worn pair of jeans and a soft-looking shirt that hugged his broad chest.The overhead lanterns glinted off the stubble along his jawline, the polar opposite of Peter’s exquisitely trimmed beard.It gave his already foreboding features a devilish appearance that might once have terrified Briar but now seemed ruggedly charming.

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