Page 34 of Matched By My Rival
“Seriously, you guys?” Cooper said. “This paint costs money. This is a nonprofit venture. We can’t afford to waste it on…on…” He gestured helplessly at the paint all over both of us and the smeared, blotted paint where Parker had slammed against the house moments before. Thanks to me.
“He fucking nailed me with a paint roller,” I said, feeling guilty.
“It was an accident!” Parker protested. “But then hepurposelygot paint in my hair.”
“I always knew you were a vain asshole.”
“Please, you’re the narcissist, making everything about you.”
I opened my mouth to fire again, but a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, squeezing. I winced, looking up at Trace.
“Enough arguing like children,” he said with a stern look. “Clean up this mess and try to make use of your time. Like Cooper said, we have limited supplies.” He scuffed a foot through a mass of paint on the grass—probably the paint Parker had attempted to fling at me in retaliation. “Let’s get to work.”
“Sorry,” Parker mumbled. “I can buy more.”
I scoffed. “Of course you can.”
“What? You want to judge me for trying to help a charity now?” He threw up his hands. “I can’t win with you, can I?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Nope.”
Before Trace could chastise us again, I knelt down to pour more paint into the depleted paint tray and picked up the second roller, which hadn’t been used yet. Once again, I’d let myself lose all control where Parker was concerned. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Maybe Parker should paint another section of the house,” I said without looking up. “I can handle the cleanup here.”
Cooper sighed. “That might not be a bad idea. Trace, you stay here? I’ll take Parker with me.”
“All right,” Trace grumbled. “I swear, I ought to spank all your asses.”
Cooper slapped his arm. “Hey!”
Trace flashed him a grin. “I’d never do that, of course. One brat is enough for me.”
He swooped down to kiss Cooper, and I turned my focus to repairing the damage Parker and I had done. I could do without the visuals of them kissing. Thanks to Trace’s words, I was already having difficulty blocking out the images forming of Trace laying Cooper over his knee like a naughty boy.
Jesus Christ. I really needed to get laid.
When I got a spare moment, I pulled out my phone. HotPan had suggested meeting up, and I’d been hesitant to agree. But with the weird moment between Parker and me burning in my gut, and strangely erotic images of Cooper and Trace together, I knew I needed to get out of my head and finally give my body what it wanted.
Meet me tonight. I tend bar at Tracks. Come by at closing time.
I stared at the words I’d typed for a long time, then gathering all my courage, I hit send.
11
PARKER
Tracks sat squished between a used bookstore and a retro clothing shop, both of which were closed. Across the street, another bar—this one larger with an outdoor patio lit up like Christmas—buzzed with activity despite the late hour. Voices and laughter drifted through the night, inviting and friendly.
Instead of joining them, I turned toward the plain metal door that led into a small dive bar that hosted local bands. I’d been in there once or twice when they had a band worth seeing. That didn’t happen every week, or even every month.
Tonight, I didn’t care about their music. The band would be long gone by now anyway. My only concern as I stepped inside was the man I would finally meet.
BiCuriousStud. I’d finally learn who he was. Get his proper name and see his face. If I was lucky, maybe even more.
My heart skipped.
That he’d trusted me with his place of employment meant a lot. It was a bar, so it wasn’t like the public didn’t come and go, but if I was an asshole, he might regret giving me that information. I’d almost scolded him for telling me. But my hookup was innocent to the ways of men. Judging by his behavior the past few weeks, I wasn’t sure he’d ever used a hookup app—even with women. If he looked half as good as his pictures hinted, he probably hadn’t needed to work for attention.
