Page 31 of Wrecked

“So, when we hit this nightclub, I go in as your boyfriend,” Crow said while buttoning the shirt, covering his chest from view.

“Wait…what?” Rebel gaped when the words registered and his eyes flew from the man’s hands to his face.

“We’ve known each other a few months,” Crow began with humor in his blue eyes.

“Just brief encounters,” Rebel teased.

“That’s just semantics.”

“That’s a fact,” he snorted.

Crow smiled and Rebel’s stomach jumped. “And we reconnected over the past two days.”

“Like old lovers?”

“Mhmm,” Crow agreed and sat on the edge of the other bed to put on his shoes. “Now get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Hurry up.”

Rebel raced into the shower and grimaced as he changed into yesterday’s clothing.

A half an hour later, they ended up in a very exclusive men’s clothing store and when Rebel balked, shaking his head, Crow linked their fingers together.

Caught off guard by the move, Rebel found himself pulled inside the expensive store that held more than just clothes—it was also connected to a hair salon.

“He needs everything,” Crow said and handed a black credit card to the assistant manager.

Store clerks rushed to get Rebel set up with anything Crow wanted and that included new briefs, socks, shoes, and everything in between.

Crow was picky, so it took almost three hours and by the time they were done, Rebel was starving.

He’d long since given up protesting because there was no stopping Crow.

The man ordered it all delivered to their room at the hotel except for the outfit Rebel now wore.

A pair of classic fit black pants molded to his legs and made his ass look good, if he did say so himself. Combined with a burgundy twill dress shirt and matte leather lace-up boots, Rebel felt like a million dollars. Crow selected a thigh-length wool coat in dark gray and slipped it over his shoulders.

Although he was sorry to see the jacket Crow had lent him go, this one fit like it was made for him.

Turning for the entrance, Crow caught him before he could reach the door and guided him into the salon.

Rebel’s coat was removed and hung up and he was pressed into a chair.

“Don’t cut it too short, but give it a trim and conditioning,” Crow said and sat in one of the large waiting chairs. A woman hurried over and poured him a glass of champagne.

Crow left it on the table and Rebel noticed the guy didn’t take one sip. Now, if that had been him sitting there, he would have tossed that sucker down quickly.

Usually, he took the scissors to his own hair or his mother—or Dory had done it for him. He shoved thoughts of her away.

“He has such a small frame and delicate build,” the young woman said, gazing at him with a smile in the mirror. She ran her hands through his dark curls. “We don’t want to lose any of the length.”

She led him to a bowl where she washed and conditioned his hair and then back to the chair to snip at his shining black hair. The way she cut it had the curls falling around his head, making his eyes look bigger.

Damn, he looked good and his eyes met Crow’s in the mirror. The flash of something in the man’s blue eyes triggered butterflies in Rebel’s stomach.

He knew without a doubt that Crow found him attractive. Even though the guy said he wasn’t his type. Maybe he could change Crow’s mind?

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