Page 33 of Hot Doggin'
Because of his height, he has to lean over the Skee-Ball lane, and I use it as an opportunity to check out his ass. It’s a first for me, for sure, and I hate that my second thought, after thinking, it looks tight and round, is if anyone saw me checking him out.
I’ve accepted the fact that I want him, but I’m not comfortable with people knowing about it. Not yet.
Brandt challenges Mac to a rematch, but he declines, saying it’s too easy of a win. “You wanna come play with my balls?” He arches a fiery brow, his lips quirking.
I almost choke. Brandt just laughs, not catching on that the double meaning has a personal undertone.
“I’m good, thanks. Think I’m gonna go shoot a game of pool.”
“In that case, let me give you a hand with your stick,” he teases, and my face flushes redder than his beard.
“Would you quit that shit,” I hiss. The fuck is his problem?
He laughs deep and throaty, and all throughout the game his eyes linger on me, his smile teasing. I’d be hard if I wasn’t feeling so self-conscious.
Halfway through the game, McCormick sinks his shot, and then passes by me as he rounds the table to take the next one. “Lighten the fuck up,” he whispers in my ear. His breath tickles and I repress a full-body shudder. “You haven’t smiled once today.”
Am I being too obvious? Is my mood causing red flags?
“I miss seeing it,” he adds.
Oh. He misses my smile? Shit, that’s kinda… sweet. So I smile. Just for him. He leans over the table, lines up his shot, and sinks it dead to rights. But that’s not what has heat creeping up my neck. It’s the look he gives me right after. That cocky wink.
And yeah, my dick is hard now. Fuck whoever might be looking. It's funny, because before last week, that look would have made me laugh, and I’d have returned the wink and blown him a kiss. All joking and good times between friends. But now… that look meant something different.
And it’s ten times more powerful than any feminine giggle or coy smile from a woman. At least, any women I’ve dated.
Because I know Mac. He’s a fucking badass. Whether astride his Harley dressed in leather, or holding an automatic rifle wearing camo fatigues, McCormick is one scary motherfucker you don’t wanna mess with. And all that dick-hardening masculinity wants to tango withme.
Not gonna lie, it’s a heady feeling. Also, a little taboo feeling, considering our long-standing friendship. It’s a line we’ve never crossed, and now that we are, it's gut-flipping exciting.
We kill two more hours at D&B before Mandy asks, “Who’s ready to hit up Hooters?”
“Come-the-fuck-on,” Nash protests. “I’ve gained six pounds today. I’ll have to bust my ass all week in the gym with Riggs after this.”
West smacks his chest playfully. “Take mercy on him. He’s gotta check on Tex.”
Nacho slings his arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “Let’s go, brother.”
“I’m gonna be constipated for a week,” Rhett complains.
“Nothing sucks harder than a constipated bottom,” Brandt teases. A few snickers from the group—Jax, Mandy, West. “Get it? All he can do is suck, not fuck.” He cracks up at his own joke, which is what finally makes the rest of us laugh with him.
Hooters is packed but Tex hustles his customers out the door and clears a table for us pronto. He’s all smiles and bright blue eyes. “Welcome to Hooters. Happy Veteran’s Day. What can I get you?”
Mandy just stares at the little Texan in his short orange shorts and crop top until I kick him under the table to wake him up.
“Oh, I’m starved. What’s on the Vet Day special?”
“A free burger with fries or onion rings, and forty percent off wing baskets. And I know you want a slice of that chocolate cake you love.”
The guys give a collective groan at the thought of more food, but Mandy just nods, like he hasn’t eaten all week. “Bring me all of that.” He glances around the table, waiting for everyone to add their order, but the guys just shake their heads.
“I’ll have water, please.” Everyone agrees.
“Yeah, a round of ice water.”
Mandy gives us a death glare. “They’ll have coffee and a slice of cake to go.”
