Page 8 of Absent Without Leave
“I’m fine, honey, just fine. Can you bring me a batch of jalapeño poppers with my sweet tea? I’ve had a hankerin’ all week.”
Aiden passes her order along to one of the servers while he and Johanna use the lull to clean up. No sooner did they finish and Aiden send Johanna on a break, than the next wave of sports fans roll in. Rick puts half the TVs on the right channel for the upcoming hockey game. Sadly, the Rotors had been eliminated from making the playoffs by a tough four-to-one loss a couple of weeks ago. He hopes Noah stops by when he’s in town.
“Tim, my man,” Aiden says, as Tim and Rachel come in. He follows them to a small booth. “The usual?”
Tim nods, but Rachel shakes her head.
“Sweet tea for me, Aiden.”
Aiden arches a brow. Rachel loves her strawberry margaritas and has never not gotten one in as long as Aiden can remember.
She winks and shrugs. “We’rehoping.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. I’ll be right back with a Stella Artois and a sweet tea.” Aiden taps the table. “Congrats,” he whispers and stops by a few more tables before returning to the bar.
“That woman looks a lot like the other guy that was in here last night,” Jake says while Aiden pulls a green bottle from the cooler and pops the cap.
“Ben and Rachel are siblings, and, yeah, all the Thompsons look a lot alike.”
The pub continues to fill and soon all the tables, booths, and stools are full again, and the hockey pre-game show begins. The rest of the evening is loud and crazy, and if Jake’s presence weren’t such a distraction, Aiden would be having a blast. As it is, all he can think about is getting Jake back in his bed.
Jake stays put at the end of the bar, watching hockey and chatting with Rick, trading quips with Johanna, and watching Aiden when Aiden isn’t glancing his direction. Aiden can feel Jake’s eyes on him. He knows they’re Jake’s eyes. In spite of the buffer of eighty patrons and Aiden’s duties, flashes of want spark in his blood like neurons firing.
At midnight, Jake leaves with a mock salute, and Aiden sighs in relief. The last stragglers stumble out a few minutes later, and he locks the doors behind them, no matter that an hour remains until official closing time. He doesn’t fucking care. Who knew being on the edge of want for so many hours could leave a body so exhausted?
Neither the action of dumping plates, glasses, mugs and silverware into a plastic tub as he busses tables, nor the racket he makes doing so does anything to dull the edges of his pent-up sexual frustration. Only one thing will satiate his needs fully and completely.
Rick grins but remains mum, just finishes cleaning the bar. “See you mañana,” he says before disappearing out the back door. His motorcycle rumbles to life a moment later and roars down the alley.
Two more days of the same might just render Aiden insane. Fucking lines in the sand.
Chapter Three
Jake saunters into the pub just before the hockey game the next day. The second playoff game will begin in a few minutes and every seat in the house appears to be taken. He spots a stool at the opposite end of the bar, next to the register. Yesterday had been tough. He’d been tempted to sweet-talk Aiden into bed. But his own restraint as well as his desire to show Aiden and his boundaries their due respect kept him in check. He’d considered not making an appearance today. Being around Aiden for another six hours would be sweet torture, but Jake doesn’t want to miss out on Aiden’s company.
“Beer,” he says to Rick.
“I’m not sure what’s going on between the two of you, although Aiden appears to have it under control for the moment.” Rick pulls back his sleeve and holds up an arm. “But if you hurt him…”
The image of a skull and crossed rifles sends Jake’s eyebrows to his hairline. He gives the other man a single nod and lifts his glass in a respectful salute. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that Rick’s sniper skills aren’t still top notch, no matter how many years it’s been since the man’s seen active duty.
When Aiden swings around the corner and spots him, he smiles. Almost as if he can’t help it, and Jake lets go a loudhoo ahin his head.
They make it through another evening, Jake enjoying Aiden’s big heart and easy manner with his customers. They chitchat in passing. Rick gives him the side eye a couple of times, but Jake’s not overly worried. Aiden’s in a good mood, and the continued chemistry bodes well for them both.
When the hockey game ends just before eleven, Jake decides to call it a night. He closes out his tab and heads for the door. He bumps Aiden’s shoulder with his in passing and says, “Two days, Aiden. Two days.”
***
Aiden stalks through the bar, bussing tub hitched on his hip.
Twenty-seven damn days have passed since the night he’d kicked Jake out of his apartment. Twenty-four since he’d watched Jake walk out of the bar. Not that he’s counting. Jake had said two days, but he hadn’t come back. All Aiden had gotten was a random text later that evening saying “leave was canceled,” but no explanation and no phone call at any point after Jake should have reached Florida.
The silence is telling. Basically, a brush off. Jake had gone out and found some other willing body to fuck and hadn’t given Aiden a second thought. Well, why would he?
Aiden is nothing more than a small-town bar owner in a rural Texas town. Why would a bad ass Army guy who’s seen the world and his fair share of gorgeous men and women want him? Better then, that Aiden had stood his ground. He’d had his share of one-night stands since he and Joe had split, so it’s not a big deal. But Jake always held a special place in his memory, and Aiden hates that the memory is now tainted.
He slams the chairs up to the table. The salt and pepper shakers slide a few inches across the surface. The people at the next table glance over in surprise.Shit.
