Page 33 of Givin' Me Fitz!
Fitz was reading the lease—smart guy. He glanced in my direction. “Sure. What’s mine is actually yours.”
I chuckled as I headed through the kitchen into the hallway to the bathroom. After I emptied my bladder, I washed my hands, surprised to see guest towels hanging from the towel bar. I opened the vanity to see hand soap, extra toilet paper, a few sets of towels, and toilet cleaner. The man was organized and well-stocked as though he planned to stay and make a life in Vegas.
I dried my hands on my jeans so I didn’t mess up his nice white towels and stepped out of the bathroom, glancing into the primary bathroom to see it was nice and tidy. I didn’t go in; that would be rude without an invitation. I hoped to get one soon.
The wooden bed frame, which I’d put together and had once belonged to Aunt Janice, now held a double box spring, a queen mattress, and light-blue sheets. Two huge pillows leaned against the headboard. The dresser had a nice size television on top, and the shutters were slanted to let in light but not enough to heat the room during the day.
“I, uh, I haven’t shopped for a bedspread yet. I’ve got a few more things I want to get to make it a little homier.”
I turned toward the sound of his voice and noticed again how well-built the man was. He was slender, but the muscles in his legs, arms, shoulders, and ass were fucking incredible. I wanted to push him against the wall and fuck him until we both collapsed.
I chuckled. “You caught me. I was just being nosy to see what you’ve done with the place. Is the HVAC unit doing alright? I’m afraid you’ll probably need to use the AC until early November. Does it keep things cool in here?”
Nervous babbling had been the bane of my existence when I was young, and now it seemed it was back in full force. I’d overcome it when I was in the Army, but somehow, Fitz brought it out of me.
“It’s fine. I don’t like it too cold inside. I’d rather take a cool shower, or even a soak, on hot evenings. It’s a damn shame there’s not a river nearby. When I was a kid, we used to take a swim on hot afternoons in the river that ran through our ranch once we finished chores.” His cute smile told me it was a happy memory for him.
“I can get a bathtub put in here, if you’d like. The back lot isn’t big enough for a pool, but I can get one of those swim spa deals to put back there if you’d rather have that.”
Why the hell was I bending over backwards to please him? That wasn’t me at all.
Fitz glanced at the hardwood floors beneath my boots. “You’re a nice guy, Sawyer. There’s no need for you to do anything extra here. I’m fine with a cool shower. Is there something else I can do for you?” He handed me the envelope with the signed lease inside.
The sound of the man’s voice was sultry, which wasn’t a word I used regularly. As for what Fitz could do for me? A million scenarios danced through my head.
“Will you have dinner with me? Give me another chance, please. I know it was a shit thing to do by not calling you after our last date. I’m attracted to you, Fitz. I’m not good enough for you, but I want us to spend some time together, so please, have dinner with me. Just dinner. Just the two of us.”
Fitz gave me a sad smile. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then you decide it won’t work between us and not call me again. Thanks, though. I’m sure you’ll find someone you think fits you. Obviously, it’s not me.”
How could I argue with him? He was right, and I could tell ghosting Fitz had done more damage than I could have imagined.
I gave him a quick nod, let myself out the back door, and pushed my bike through the gate. I closed it behind me and made a mental note to put a new lock on it for him since the old one was fucked up. I shouldn’t have been able to get in so easily, and I wouldn’t allow someone else to do the same.
Maybe I wasn’t the guy for Fitz, but I’d protect him as though he was mine.
Banging fists on my front door pissed me off, much like the pounding in my head.
“Comin’!”
I’d driven straight home, skipped the party at the clubhouse that had bled out into the yard, and parked my bike in front of my house. I’d gone inside, deciding to party by myself with brother Jack, and drank straight from the bottle.
Anything after that was a blur, but I was relieved when I looked to my left to see the bed was empty. I’d stayed at my place and hadn’t called the clubhouse to send anyone down. I was so out of my mind, I wouldn’t have remembered anyway.
I slid on my jeans from the previous night and headed toward the door. When I opened it, I was surprised to see Hobie. Usually, it was Spider or Ders banging on my door.
“Yeah?”
“Someone found a body they think is Boyd Townsend’s this morning. Chet Crane called me at the ass-crack of dawn to say a hiker found Boyd out in the Mojave. I don’t think it’s a big surprise, is it?”
I wasn’t shocked by the news, but I was surprised he knew the cop’s first name. “You on a first-name basis with the officer investigating this shit?”What the hell is the world coming to?
“He’s a decent guy, Bones. We have nothing to worry about because we had nothing to do with what happened at Tumbleweeds. I’d say we cooperate until we find out what the hell is going on. We can always quit cooperating.”
I went to the kitchen to get water in an attempt not to puke in the sink. “Dead?”
“Very. Beaten. Hands cut off. Body burned. Probably set him on fire after they drugged him and dumped his body about a mile inside the state line.”
“Nevada side or California?”
