Page 38 of Courageous Hearts

“Hey, Dee, you all set here?” I ask, taking another look around the bar to make sure I haven’t left a mess behind. It looks clear, save for the drinks Dee is currently making.

“Yep. You’re good to go,” she confirms.

Per usual, Dee is staying for the closing shift, and the customers have already started to dwindle now that the show is over. I’m grateful she doesn’t need me to stick around any longer.

I’m antsy to get to Bo.

“Big date?” she asks, a curious lift to her dark brows. Her pink hair is especially curly tonight, frizzed out a bit around the big bobby pins holding it back from her face. She’s wearing a tailored pinstripe blazer, looking even more dapper than usual.

“Something like that,” I answer vaguely, wanting to talk to Bo about what we are before sharing it with our coworkers.

But Dee’s smirk turns a little knowing, and I wonder how much she already suspects. “Have a good night,” she sing-songs.

“You, too.”

As I’m stepping through the half-door at the side of the bar, Bo sweeps by. They point to the front of the building and then the phone at their ear, and I give a nod. I make quick work of washing up and clocking out, and when I step through the great big gilded doors of Gertie’s, I find Bo exactly where they indicated they’d be—waiting outside.

Bo is still on the phone, their tone light as they talk to the caller on the other end, and I lean up against the front of the building as they finish their conversation, in no hurry now that I can simply watch Bo. They seem to sense my eyes on them after a moment, and a little smile breaks over their face before they chuckle at something the other person says.

“Listen, I have to go. Yeah, I have company tonight,” Bo says. There’s a pause, and Bo shakes their head. “No, I’m not tellin’ ya. Bye, Coop.”

Bo hangs up their call and turns to face me. They’re dressed down now—corset long gone—and their face is clear of makeup. But they look beautiful any which way, and I can’t believe it took me this long to realize it.

“Coop?” I ask curiously.

“My brother.” At my inquisitive gaze, Bo explains, “My other brother. Not the one I was talkin’ to in the storage room. And behind the bar.”

“Ah,” I say, pushing off from the wall. So that’s why they were crying again last night.

Bo looks down at their feet before shooting me a coy little grin. “So… Your place or mine?”

I huff a little laugh, stopping in front of them. “What works best for you?”

Bo considers it a moment. “I like your place. So long as you can drive me home again after.”

They don’t say after what. After our talk? After the night is over?

Any which way, I answer, “Deal.”

Bo and I walk side by side toward the parking garage, our hands occasionally brushing and setting tiny fireworks off against my skin. With each step and each barely there touch, my anticipation mounts. I feel a little bit like a teenager again, my thoughts clouded by lust, my desperation to explore Bo and every inch of their skin occupying all of my mental space.

I feel a little primal, too. A little possessive. My fingers keep twitching with the urge to touch Bo’s back, to place my hand there, and it reminds me of their birthday at the club. Of all those instincts that kept rearing up and overwhelming me. Was I jealous? Did I want them to be mine, even then?

When we reach the parking garage, Bo gets into my car without a word, and we make the trip to my house in heavy silence. At every red light, I look over, and nearly a dozen times, I open my mouth to say something. But each time, I clamp my mouth shut. Because the words on my mind are Fuck, I want you. And Please let me touch you. And saying either of those things while I’m trying to focus on getting us safely to my place wouldn’t be the least bit helpful.

Bo doesn’t say anything either, but every once in a while, we catch each other’s eye, and that small, shy smile tips their lips.

By the time we’re at my house, I’m practically buzzing. I pull into my reserved spot behind the buildings on my street, and Bo and I make our way through the wrought-iron gate, past my tiny yard, and up to the front door. The click of the deadbolt disengaging sounds loud in our relative silence.

Bo steps through the threshold first, and I follow, twisting to shut the door behind me. When I turn back around, Bo is right there, not even a half foot away, their backpack no longer on their arm. My breath catches as they step forward, backing me without hesitation into the door, and just like in the alley behind the bar, Bo’s mouth attaches to my own.

My surprise lasts for only a second, and then my arms are wrapping around Bo. They slot against me, our bodies sliding together, lips tangling in a rush. Bo tugs me after a moment, leading me toward the living room, and I help walk them backwards, directing them around the obstacles in our way. All the while, Bo never once stops kissing me, as if now that they’ve started, they can’t bear to stop. Thank God. Their grip on me is strong, absolute, and when the back of Bo’s legs hit the couch, they fall over the deep cushions with easy grace, pulling me on top of their body.

I groan as we fit together from hip to chest.

Fuck.

Bo’s mouth is soft yet unyielding as we all but make out in my living room, and every drag of their tongue against my own has my body lighting up. Each caress sets off a spark, cascading along my veins like molten, crackling lava. I’m washed in heavy anticipation, my cock hard and incessantly throbbing, my mind running through the thrilling possibilities of what lie ahead.

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