Page 56 of Better Late Than Never

Why did the man I actually clicked with—both in and out of bed—have to be someone I couldn’t even befriendswith?

Sitting back in my chair, I rubbed my eyes and sighed.

I couldn’t stand being with Tobias.

I couldn’t be more than fuck buddies with Isidoro.

And I wasn’t allowed to be with Connor.

I hadn’t thought it was possible, but today, I was lonelier than I’d been in a long, long time.

CHAPTER17

CONNOR

An hour and a half after I walked into Paraíso, I couldn’t ignore the mix of disappointment and relief. Alex wasn’t here. We weren’t going to do something stupid and reckless that could derail our careers and lives.

But also… he wasn’t here. We weren’t going to have a rematch and relive that ridiculously hot night that was seared into my memory.

Which was a good thing for two men who wanted to keep their careers and their VA benefits. We’d both given up way too much and worked way too hard to toss it all away now in exchange for some good dick.

It was a bad idea. I should’ve known it was, really. And why did I pickMadrid, for fuck’s sake? Couldn’t I have gone for a city closer to home? I mean, I didn’t want to be so close that we might bump into someone we knew. Still, there were plenty of cities between Rota and Madrid that were far enough away that we weren’t likely to happen across anyone from our base, least of all our hospital.

You picked Madrid because you knew this was a terrible idea and he wasn’t likely to show up.

That was possible. Like I’d extended an invitation that I’d subconsciously known he wouldn’t accept. Taken the risk withoutactuallytaking the risk.

Damn. I was disappointed, but I supposed I was relieved, too. My career was safe from my stupidity for another day.

Well, just because I wouldn’t be dancing (or more) with Alex didn’t mean I had to waste this trip. I was here in this club, and I’d caught a couple of men glancing my way. The way that beautiful Spanish guy near the bar had raked his eyes up and down my body had done wonders for my confidence; it was hard to be afraid I was unattractive when someone that hot was openly checking me out.

Someone emerged from the crowd and quite clearly wanted to dance with me. He was a little shorter than me with long black hair, mischievous dark eyes, and a devilish smile.

Even as I stepped in to dance with him, I’d already decided we wouldn’t be hooking up—he waswaytoo young. Early twenties, if I had to guess.Maybetwenty-five. I’d feel too weird getting intimate with someone this close to my sons’ ages.

He was cute, though, and he was fun to dance with. I liked the way he smiled and the way he moved, and this seemed harmless enough—dance for a few songs, have a good time, go our separate ways.

That was exactly what we did, too, and it was fun. I was starting to be less self-conscious on the dancefloor; everyone was here to have a good time, and nobody cared what anyone else was doing unless they wanted to be doing it with them.

The young guy and I drifted away from each other after a handful of songs, and I danced by myself for a little while. I paused to get a drink—just water, since I didn’t want to get too fucked up in a place like this—then returned to the floor.

Someone else found me in the crowd, and though he didn’t hold a candle to Alex—did anyone?—he was definitely attractive. In fact, as I moved in closer, I decidedthiswas a guy I could see myself leaving the building with. He was older than the last one, though I definitely still had several years on him.

Potential for a hookup, maybe?

Eh, we’d see. Right now, we’d try dancing. If that went well, we could move toward the bar or a table, talk, and go from there. I didn’t even know his name yet, so no need to start double-checking I still had those condoms in my back pocket.

It wasn’t that I was opposed to anonymous sex. Even working in healthcare hadn’t scared me away from the idea.

The language barrier, though… that still made me nervous. What if he didn’t understand a boundary I tried to communicate? What ifIdidn’t understand one ofhis?God, that thought made my stomach knot up.

So… no hooking up unless we could understand each other. He didn’t even need to be fluent; just enough that we could clumsily communicate and not do something one or both of us regretted.

Therehadto besomeonein here who spoke some English. Everyone said it was a little more common in Madrid than in Andalusia, and I’d already encountered a few English speakers in my hotel and at the train station. I could find someone in this place who spoke it too, right? Or was I hunting for a unicorn?

Trying to find something you know isn’t here so you can leave empty-handed without feeling like a failure?

Now you listen here, subconscious…

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