Page 111 of Still Bruised
“Does that mean you’re coming?”
He cringed inwardly, but Cary looked so hopeful.
Stop pining for a guy who says he doesn’t want you.
Foster nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go.”
“Great!” Cary bellowed, a broad smile crossing his face. “You’ll see. Once you get out, you’ll forget all about Jude.”
Foster eyed Cary. He didn’t want to forget all about Jude. “So… chucked phones?”
Cary sighed and sat back. “I met the most obnoxious femboy I’ve ever run across in my life.”
“I assumed this story was going to be work related.”
“It is,” Cary said. “His father owns the jet I was trying to repossess.”
“Tryingto repossess?”
“They skipped out on me before I could snag it,” Cary said. He growled under his breath. “And it’s all because of that twink.”
“What did he do?”
“I’d convinced his father to turn the jet over to me. Or, I thought I had,” Cary said. “Dad asked me to give him a minute to get dressed—he’d been out by the pool and was only in a pair of Speedos.” He shook his head. “Then out walks his son in a tiny white bikini.” Cary paused, his eyes drifting like the scene was replaying in his mind. “I usually pay better attention, in case I have a runner on my hands, but I was solely focused on the son, not the father. By the time I realized his dad had hightailed it out of there, it was too late. The jet was gone. He’d apparently already had it fueled up and ready for him to bolt.”
“You can’t blame the son for that, though, can you?” Foster asked.“You’rethe one with a thing for twinks.”
“He didn’t just walk out. Heswayedout, trying to get my attention. He sat down on a lounge chair just a few feet away from me and asked me to help him with his sunscreen.”
“And you took the bait.”
Cary growled. “I took the fucking bait.” After scrubbing his face, he looked exhausted. “To make matter worse, he’s young. I’m officially a dirty old man.”
“Howyoung?”
“Hemightbe legal to drink.”
“That means he’s an adult,” Foster said. “Nothing wrong there.”
Cary scoffed. “A twenty-year-old? He’s still a kid.”
“My grandparents were twelve years apart,” Foster said.
Cary shrugged. “Not for me. I prefer them closer to my age. Although, there aren’t too many thirty-year-old femboys out there these days. I guess it’s time to reconsider my tastes andswitch to otters.” He scowled. “Now he’s given me an existential crisis on top of everything else.”
“Well, from the sounds of it, you won’t be seeing him again, so don’t get yourself so wound up.”
“I just might see him again. I’m still going after that jet,” Cary snapped. “They’re not gonna win.”
Foster nodded.
Cary’s gaze drifted again, his lips a thin, firm line. “When I realized what was happening and tried to leave, the twink got up in my face and called me out. He kept leaping into my path to slow me down. Then he grabbed my phone and ran toward the beach—their place was right on the water. I couldn’t get to him before he hurled it into the ocean. Asshole should’ve gone to the majors with a pitching arm like that.”
“Sounds like he made quite the impression.”
“He was in on it. I know it. He helped his dad escape with a jet that’s legally the bank’s.” Cary sighed, leaning back against the booth. “Weeks of research and days of stakeouts down the tube because I couldn’t keep my eyes off a cute boy. Now I have to go back to the drawing board, figure out where he took off to, and track him down again. This time, ignoring the kid.”
“Good luck with that,” Foster said, sensing Cary was going to struggle.
