Page 9 of Worthy

“Small town,” Lennon answers before Maddox can finish.

“It was an honest mistake.” I look up at the guys to make my case. “I thought Maddox wasn’t getting here until next week, so I didn’t expect anyone to need the car.”

“I guess that makes sense, seeing as how it’s been sitting in the drive for so long,” Beck laughs.

“Thanks Beck. Up until just now Maddox couldn’t understand how I’d be stupid enough to block in the car.” I smirk at Madd while bumping my fist against Beckett’s in solidarity, appreciating the fact he’s always got my back. He had a tendency to idolize me as a kid since I’m several years older, but just like he’s always in my corner I’m always in his.

Glancing back to Maddox, I see our exchange register because he stops pressing his lips together and lets them sort of fall open, an almost horrified look on his face. Fuck, I hate that having Beck defend me puts him on the spot, but seeing those plump lips slightly parted minimizes any guilt.I wonder if they’re as soft as they look.

“I didn’t. I mean I never…” Maddox starts to protest then abruptly shuts his mouth and looks down at the table with a heavy sigh.

“It’s okay.” I let him off the hook. “I should have double checked before parking the trailer.”

Madd’s face is so flushed it's almost the color of a cherry, visible even under the scruff on his jaw, but I kind of like it. I don’t usually see men blush, probably because I don’t get the chance to flirt with many, but now that I’m watching it, it’s fucking adorable.

“So, can I get you guys anything?” Lennon asks again.

I cast my eyes toward Maddox, who’s still averting his gaze. “How ‘bout just the check?”

“You got it.” Lennon turns to head toward the bar, Beck trailing after him. Thank God. Though neither of them mean any harm, they interact with a lot of people here in the restaurant, and I don’t need them chatting to the whole town about my conversation with Maddox.

“So, what do you say, Solo? Are you coming for a drink or are you headed home?”

“Uh…” He gnaws his lip, looking toward the mountains in the distance. I don’t know if that’s to avoid looking at me, or because they really are stunning, and he’s lost in the view. The introspective look on his face doesn’t betray what he’s thinking.

Damn, I want to cup his chin and force him to look at me so he knows I want him to come, but I suspect I’ve already pushed the boundaries by giving him my shirt, and I need to give him space to come around.

So, I stand up and toss a few bills on the table. If I’m short, Beck will just add it to my tab, and I’ll settle it at the end of the month like I always do.

“I’ll be at The Underground if you change your mind, gorgeous. See you around.”

***

Despite being in a basement, The Underground is pretty spacious, with high ceilings and a half-moon bar in the middle of the room. It is dark, there aren’t any windows or anything, but I kind of like it that way.

The Underground draws a good mix of tourists and locals. There aren’t any places specifically for one or the other, but there are a few places the tourists don’t really know about, so if you aren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger you can go to one of those.

Every once in a while, I hit those up, but mostly I go wherever I can find some familiar and new faces. On a given day that usually makes The Underground my preferred spot, especially with Deacon in town, because he’s looking for a good time. But tonight, I’m not as into it as I usually am. I’m too distracted wondering how long it will take for the pink to fade from Madd’s face, and whether he’ll surprise me by showing up.

I spot Deacon at the bar, slowly sipping his beer as he watches the crowd. I know he’s hoping to see the bachelorette party one more time before they leave tomorrow, but chances are they won’t be in until later, if they make it at all. They were pretty hammered last night.

“Find your truck?” He slides the extra beer he ordered toward me.

“Sorta.” I take a sip. “I told him to keep it through the weekend though, since I can’t move the trailer before then.”

He nods.

Dex, the bartender and owner of the joint, makes his way over to us. I have no idea if Dex is his first name, last name or a nickname, even though he’s lived here nearly a decade. He’s only ever referred to himself as Dex. He’s probably the friendliest guy in town, but he’s alsopretty imposing, so no one presses him. “Who’s the guy?” he wipes the moisture from Deacon’s glass off the bar.

I knew this was coming, but sometimes it’d be nice to keep some things to myself for a change. To be anonymous.

I stare at Dex blankly.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I’m just messing with you.” It’s pointless to play dumb, both about who he is and why he has my truck. Dex isn’t a gossip by nature, but he practically lives in this bar, so he’s surrounded by talk. I figure if I don’t make a big deal out of being into a guy, neither will he. He’s chill like that. Plus, if he knows my story, at least he can straighten out the folks who are speculating.

“He’s Rick Gerome’s hot as fuck nephew. I blocked the Subaru in the drive thinking he didn’t get here until next week, so I loaned him my truck.”

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