Page 28 of His Stepdad Wears Leather

“You better,” the bouncer replied with a steely glare.

5

Again, Noah gazed over a shoulder and saw Brody hadn’t made a move toward the door. The man had simply stood back and watched their exchange at the door. After tossing his duffel over one shoulder, he sauntered back to Brody. “Are we leaving?”

“It’s this way,” Brody said, hooking a thumb over one shoulder. “I live upstairs.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “You live over the bar?”

“Makes the commute easy,” Brody said as he led Noah into the same back area they’d been in before. This time, they walked toward another door on the opposite end that said, ‘No Entry’. “Plus, I’m here if there’s a problem.”

“Yeah, but it must make nights off a pain. I bet it’s loud up there.”

“There’s sound proofing between the floors,” Brody said before opening the door and urging him through. “If I’m honest, there’s never really a true day off when you own a place.”

Noah gawked. “Youownthe bar?”

Brody nodded with a grin. “I do.”

Shit, if he finds out about the fake ID, I’m toast.“Wow,” Noah murmured before walking through the open door. There was another door straight ahead and a set of stairs to his left. He spun to face Brody and pointed up, to be sure.

Brody nodded, a small smile playing over his lips.

Noah trudged upward. He hit the first landing and turned to gawk at Brody. “So… do you live alone?”

“I do,” Brody murmured. He placed his hand on the railing.

“I guess I should’ve asked before. I mean… you could be in a relationship. I wouldn’t want to get in the way.” Noah once again noticed the fading tattoo on the man’s wrist. It seemed like a length of rope, knotted on the inside of his wrist…

He wasn’t sure why his attention kept being drawn by it, but it was.

“No relationship,” Brody answered behind him, his voice low.

That answer delighted him more than it should have. He turned, hiding the smile trying to spread across his lips. Their steady footfalls echoed in the stairwell and weren’t anywhere near as fast as the beating of Noah’s heart. He’d never spent the night with a man and was absolutely sure he’d end up saying or doing something really stupid before the sun came up. So far, he’d been able to cover up his awkwardness. Or at least, he thought he had.

Now he was like the bar downstairs. The lights were coming up and the illusion was going to disappear. Hopefully he could keep it together long enough for thatnotto happen.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused, giving space for Brody to unlock the door. He offered a nervous smile as the guy moved in closer. Brody brushed past his shoulder, and a spark of electricity shot through him. Inhaling, he smelled the scent of liquor and musk—and it left him reeling and a bit dizzy.

Brody unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Ready?”

He met the man’s stare. “Absolutely.”

Brody’s smile was going to be his downfall. Even, white teeth peeked out behind lips he hungered to taste again. He wanted the short, dark hairs of his mustache and beard to tickle his face and…well, everywhere… again.

A curious brow rose. “Do you want to go inside or what?”

Noah smiled, his face heating. “Yeah.” He walked in, brushing against Brody one more time—not completely on accident. A light was flipped on, and he gasped. The expensive-looking apartment wasn’t what he’d expected—not that he’d really had much of an expectation. Whistling, he turned to Brody. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks,” Brody said, shutting the door behind him.

Noah turned to scan his surroundings. It was all open—a living room, fancy kitchen, and dining. The building appeared to have once been an old warehouse. Large windows filled up one wall, but the rest were red brick. Metal venting hung from the ceiling like it had downstairs in the bar, too. More metal showed up in the furniture and especially the kitchen.

But it didn’t seem like anyone lived there.

There were no pictures on the walls. No tchotchkes sitting around. The kitchen counters were practically empty. Once again, he thought of his stepmother’s cock-filled kitchen. It wasn’t the only room she’d filled with her cluttered collections.

Brody’s place was theexactopposite. Empty.

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