Page 61 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“You’re probably right. I should get some sleep, be ready for tomorrow.”

I nodded because I liked being right, and we piled into the truck.

Back at the estate, my heart beat wildly in my chest as we made our way down the hall to the room. I unlocked the door, and once inside, we got ready for bed in silence. We took turns using the bathroom. I was used to sleeping in only boxers, but I put on a t-shirt for obvious reasons.

Charlie didn’t get the memo, though. He wore pajama pants and nothing else. It took all my willpower not to run my tongue all over his bare chest.

We stood on opposite sides of the bed, playing our own game of chicken. “Which side do you like to sleep on?”

“I don’t sleep on a side. I just sleep in the center,” he said.

“Me, too,” I lied.

“I’ll take this side then.”

But neither of us moved to get in bed. The game of chicken continued.

“I’m sorry.” The words gusted out of him. He knelt on the bed. “I said it wasn’t going to happen again, and it happened again.”

“What happened?”

He tipped his head. “You know.”

Oh, right. That. My dick stirred in my shorts thinking about that night.

“I’m sorry I kissed you again. I’m starting to think I’m not totally straight. But that doesn’t mean you need to be an asshole.”

“Wait. What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me like I’m the guy at the gym with b.o. You barely talk to me at work.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want him to be right. Keeping my distance had been torture. “I’m busy handling a million things. Running a tavern and now planning a wedding.”

“You act like the bar is radioactive. You can’t come near it.”

“I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off every damn day,” I said over him.

“I crossed a line, I know that, but you liked it.”

“I liked it?” I huffed out, anger building inside me. “You think I like not being able to concentrate at work? You think I like having to keep my distance from you while also thinking about youallthe time?”

Charlie’s face turned as furiously red as that balloon from the scary clown movie. He inched closer to me, his cologne doing even more dangerous things to my mind. “You think I like working for a guy I can’t stop thinking about who won’t say more than three words to me? Do you know what it’s like working for the world’s sexiest brick wall?”

I stepped closer, too, my legs against the bed. No way was I losing this fight. “And what about you? Looking at that cocky smile all day and watching you walk around in those tight-as-fuck henleys makes me dizzy! It’s goddamn torture.”

“I hate working for you!”

“And I hate having you around!”

A second later, I pulled his body against mine. My lips crashed onto his like a boat willingly getting shipwrecked. His warm body and hot breath made me fucking dizzy all over again. I cupped a firm hand around the back of his neck. We kissed until we ran out of breath and then kissed some more. His hands scoured through my beard.

“I can’t believe I like kissing someone with stubble so much.”

“It’s not stubble. It’s a beard, fucker. Now I didn’t say you could stop kissing.” I pulled him to me again and shoved my tongue into his mouth. He scratched down my back, a moan gushing from his lips. With my free hand, I squeezed his firm ass cheek and let out a groan. His rock-hard dick pulsed against my thigh.

I picked him up, and he wrapped his legs around my waist. I pushed him against the wall kissing the life out of him until my lips went numb. I hadn’t made out like this since I was a teenager, and it sent jolts of electricity through my chest.

Charlie shot me that cocky grin on those swollen, pink lips. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”

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