Page 48 of Burning for Alexander
Somehow, there were enough vestiges of rational thought left in my brain to remember, “Tomorrow’s Monday night. We’re doing a big pizza-and-beer-flights thing for the football game. It’s going to be too busy for me to?—”
He cut me off. “Enough said. Work comes first. What about Tuesday night?”
I nodded with relief. I could make it to Tuesday night. No problem.
Except when Tuesday night rolled around, Kincaid was caught on the mountain on a training exercise. And then Wednesday night, I had a family thing.
It started to feel like by the time we both had another night free, I’d be the oldest virgin in the modern era.
And then the texts and stolen moments began.
14
KINCAID
IndexEcho:It’s hours after lights-out here and I can’t sleep. Tell me something that made you smile today.
DrunkenPoet:This. Right now. You messaging me.
_____________________
I didn’t wantto think about Alex Marian as often as I did, but he was damned near impossible to forget. So after two weeks of not being able to find a night alone, I broke.
Give me five minutes out by the dumpsters.
Firebug
OMW
I pulled into Timber’s back lot and parked in the darkest corner. It was late, and I could hear music and crowdnoise coming through the open kitchen door. It didn’t seem like Timber’s Friday night crowd was thinning anytime soon.
As soon as Alex appeared, I didn’t waste any time. I yanked him behind the giant dumpster enclosure and kissed the fuck out of him.
We kissed like we were both starving, but all too soon, he was called away.
“Boss? You out here?” someone shouted.
Alex pulled back with a dazed expression on his face and whispered, “What?”
I used my thumb to wipe his bottom lip. “Call back that you’ll be there in a minute,” I said with a soft laugh.
“Be there in a minute!” he shouted, and then he leaned in to kiss me again, his eyelids still only half-open.
We would have lost track of time again if the radio hadn’t squawked in my truck.
“Fuck, gotta go,” I said, pushing him gently away while already counting down the minutes until I could see him again.
Two days later, he was the one who started it.
Firebug
I have to drive past your place on the way to deliver a catering order. You home?
Have to leave here in twenty. Make it quick.
He sped down my driveway twelve minutes later, and we spent another ten with our hands up each other’s shirts and our mouths locked together.
“Fuck!” Alex barked, shoving me away. “This is the worst! I fucking hate this.”
