Page 27 of Finders Keepers
“I’m gonna beat the shit out of you. Now get the hell out.”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Tommy called. The front door clunked shut a moment later.
Now Wesley’s head really buzzed. He fully retreated into his room and pushed the door closed with a quiet click.Backpacks and crayons and glue, oh my...Nate had just done an incredibly brave and wonderful, but incredibly stupid thing. Wesley climbed into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He scrunched his lids shut and tried to blank his brain, listing crayons by color.
Red. Yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Purple. Pink. White. Black. Brown. Red-orange. Yellow-orange. Yellow-green. Blue-green. Blue-violet.
* * * * *
Pitch black silence blanketed Wesley as he stared at what he thought was the ceiling. A quick peek at his phone told himthe time was a little after one in the morning. He’d slept through dinner. Which, fine. He’d obviously needed the rest. With slow movements, he rolled over and closed his eyes, snuggling down into the soft warm bedding and letting out a breath. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, then did so again. And again. Trying to relax his body. Anything to quiet his mind enough to fall asleep once more. But then his stomach growled—a reminder that food was a distant memory. Then the pressure in his bladder became too insistent to ignore.
Well, piffle.
He tossed back the covers and padded across the hall to relieve himself and then made a search of the fridge. Opting for one of the yogurt parfaits Nate had batch assembled, he savored the thick, faintly sweet goop and the various tasty additions as he wandered to the big picture window. The ascending lights of a plane taking off caught his eye to the northeast and he followed its trajectory eastward until the soft glow of the Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge lights captured his attention. Wesley had visited the bridge once, shortly after he’d moved to Omaha. Had Nate ever gone?
A creak of the flooring alerted Wesley to Nate’s presence before he spoke.
“You okay? Head still bothering you?” A large rough hand curled around Wesley’s shoulder and then fell away. Wesley lamented the loss of its warmth.
He turned to find Nate standing there in nothing but boxer briefs clinging more snugly than necessary to a swath of body that seemed far too narrow. His ghostly hair stood up in little tufts, his shoulders broad and rounded and pale in the dim lighting. Hair, barely darker than his skin, was sprinkled across his upper chest and down his sternum, abs, and past his belly button—which was neither an innie nor an outie, Wesley noted—into those dark briefs.
He swallowed the yogurt and shook his head. His pulse kicked up and heat skittered up his cheeks. “No. I’m...I’m fine.” He lifted the handled mason jar of yogurt and sweet treats. “Just woke up hungry.”
Nate nodded. Stepped closer to the window, closer to Wesley, and looked out.
With the spoon, Wesley motioned to the bridge to the east. “You ever been?”
“No. What is it?”
“The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge. Named after Bob Kerrey—obviously—to honor his contributions to the state.”
“Hmm.”
“There’s a spot where you can stand in both Nebraska and Iowa at the same time.”
“Huh.”
Wesley took another bite, watched another plane fly off to destinations unknown, watched Nate from the corner of his eye. “Thanks for what you did today. With Tommy.”
Nate shrugged. “You’re welcome. Tommy’s the worst kind of teammate.”
Want hummed under Wesley’s skin for this man who was so vulnerable, so caring, so in need of some TLC lavished on him. “Watch your back.”
“He’d better watchhisback. I won’t tolerate that shit in the dressing room. I don’t care how new I am to a team. That shit don’t fly.”
“Still.”
“Yeah. Still.”
The quiet whispered between them. Nate’s fingers drummed slowly, quietly along the sill.
“Wesley?” Nate’s voice was soft but pitched with something. Oh. Oh God. Nate was horny.
“Yeah?” Wesley felt a little hungry for something other than food. How could he not after Nate had behaved like his own personal knight in shining armor? How could he not when the man was built like a tree and standing there in nothing but temptation?
“Can I kiss you?”
Wesley’s mouth went dry, his grip tightened on the spoon. Not what he’d been expecting to hear but okay. “If you don’t mind strawberry yogurt flavored kisses, then by all means...” Wesley set the mostly empty jar of yogurt parfait on the ledge and turned toward Nate.
