10. Baylor

CHAPTER TEN

BAYLOR

Popping the cap on the bottle of Polo Sport , I dabbed some on my fingers before brushing them over my neck and throat. A swish of mousse through my hair followed by a finger comb for that purposely messy look, and I was good to go.

Baylor Buchanan was back in the game. Watch out, ladies.

Truth be told, I wasn’t all that excited about my blind date from the Lucky Connections site. I decided to go with a woman because it was familiar and comfortable, and I needed to build back my confidence before going to bed with a man again. The profile I matched with didn’t give a lot of personal information, but that was to be expected on those sites. Especially if they were just looking for sex instead of something long-term. That was how you knew they were just there for fun. The profile’s pic had a juicy bubble ass that definitely caught my attention as I was scrolling, but the name was what sealed it for me.

Casy.

Pathetic, I know, but I couldn’t get him off my mind, and if this chick had the same name, I wouldn’t have to worry about calling out the wrong one when I came. It wouldn’t be a terrible stretch of my imagination to believe I was with him instead of her.

Because no one had ever made me come so hard as Casey Collins had.

Every time I thought about that night or imagined the possibilities of other things we could have done, I popped a boner. The nasty things I fantasized about that man doing to me got filthier with every imagining.

I chose Capri, an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Mapleview, for its distance. Distance meant discretion. When I lived in SoCal, it was difficult to go anywhere without running into someone I had slept with. The grocery store, a club, or movie theater, almost every single restaurant… They were everywhere—past bedmates, dates gone wrong, clingy stalkers who thought running into me again was fate and a reason to start calling again. If I could avoid that happening in Mapleview, that would be excellent. This was a much smaller town than my last one.

The ma?tre d’ told me no one had checked in for my party, and I allowed him to show me to a table so I could order a drink while I waited. I sipped my soda, slowly, constantly checking the time on my phone. She was ten minutes late, but I could excuse that. Women were usually late for one reason or another. Maybe she had kids and needed to find a sitter. Maybe she had to stop for gas or got stuck in traffic. My eyes constantly scanned the front door, hoping the next woman who walked in was attractive, and her name was Casy.

Fucking fuck.

Then the last person I expected—or wanted—to see walk in was Casey fucking Collins! No doubt he would pull out all the stops to ruin my date, just because he could. Lifting my menu, I tried to cover my face, but it was too late. He’d seen me.

He stopped beside my table. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Eating?” Did I really have to provide an answer? What did he think people did here?

“And I’m supposed to believe you just happened to choose the one restaurant that I chose to eat at? A restaurant way out of the way of where either of us live.”

This asshole thinks I’m stalking him? “How do you know where I live?”

“I’m assuming you live in town.”

“You know what they say about assumptions; you make an ass out of you and me.”

“So you don’t live in town?”

Oh Jesus, enough already! “If you’re here to eat, just go fucking sit down.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, taking the table beside me.

Beside me! Was he fucking kidding me? He’d be able to hear every word I spoke to my date. If she ever showed. It was beginning to look like I’d been stood up.

Taking another sip of my soda, I became hyper aware of him sitting behind me, and I hated that I wasn’t facing toward him so I could keep an eye on him. Was he staring at me? Was he watching the door for someone like I was?

After another couple of minutes, he asked, “Are you eating alone?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “No, are you?”

“I’m meeting someone.”

Apparently not, as we were both still sitting alone after another five minutes had passed. I logged into the dating app, checking for a message from Casy, but there was nothing. Clicking on her profile, I went over her information again—what little of it there was. And it began to dawn on me in the most horrific way.

The more I thought about it, the tighter the puzzle pieces began to fit together. Turning around in my chair so I could fully face him, I studied Casey for a moment. He was engrossed in his phone and didn’t notice I was staring.

“Did you match with someone on Lucky Connections?”

He glanced up, looking pissed. “Are you stalking me there now, too?”

That confirmed it. Casey Collins was my date. It was hilarious and ridiculous and totally disappointing. “I think you’re my date.”

He looked horrified. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Ditching my table, I took a seat at his. I pulled up his profile and showed him my phone. “Casy with no e?”

“It’s a typo,” he insisted.

“Well, you’ve got a juicy ass. I thought you were a woman.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Andrew.”

“That’s my middle name,” I smirked, knowing the omission and subsequent confusion added to how pissed off he was.

“This is ridiculous!” He slammed his fist on the table, making the ice cubes in my drink rattle. “I was expecting to?—”

“Get laid? Yeah, me too. Better luck next time.”

Casey hadn’t ordered a drink, so he stood and grabbed his phone like he was going to leave.

“Wait!”

He paused. “What?”

“We’re both here, and I’m starving. We might as well eat.”

Hesitantly, he sat back down. The tension between us grew awkward as we stole glances at each other, wondering what we were supposed to talk about to fill the silence. To ease my nerves, I pictured him naked, remembering his lightly furred chest, hard and toned with muscle. His flat brown nipples, and the way his throat worked furiously as I swallowed him. I wondered what he was thinking about. Probably the last time he ran into me at the sporting goods store. His eyes moved down my body.

“Burgundy,” I blurted .

“Excuse me?”

“I’m wearing the burgundy pair. That’s what you’re thinking about. Isn’t it? Which color jockstrap I’m wearing?”

His cheeks reddened. His discomfort pleased me to no end. “I was not!”

I laughed and gave him a smug smile. “Yeah, you were.”

“You really think highly of yourself, don’t you, Blue?”

“Apparently, so do you. What was it you said? My mouth was made for sucking cock?”

The look on his face was priceless. He was all bluster, gearing up like he was going to try denying it.

“When did I say that?”

“The night we met. And if you say you don’t remember, you’re a fucking liar.”

“You’re a conceited ass. I would’ve said anything because I had my dick inside you.”

“Oh, so that’s something you say to all the guys? I get it. Do you also text them at night when you’re lonely in bed?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. We have nothing in common, and actually can’t fucking stand each other when we’re dressed. All we do is argue. In fact, I’m not sure you have any redeeming qualities. You’re argumentative.”

“Well-versed,” I countered.

“You’re conceited.”

“No, I’m self-assured. ”

Casey snorted. “Deceitful, obviously. Andrew ,” he sneered.

“Creative and discreet.”

“Abrasive.”

“What you mean is that I leave a lasting impression. I’m unforgettable.” Casey gave up and just laughed. “See, you know all my best qualities, and you’re still here. That means you like me.”

He breathed out a long-suffering sigh. “Why me? Do you know how many gay men there are in this city? Why are you hell-bent on making my life miserable?”

“I like you.” I was stunned at how easily the response slipped out. I actually did like Casey, despite everything.

“All this because of my face? My cock?”

Well, that too, but… “No, it’s that feeling you give me.” He looked horrified, his eyes going wide, and I realized he thought I was about to profess some sort of undying love or some shit. I leaned in closer, dropping my voice to a whisper. “When you creatively insult me on the field and yell at me, when you look at me like you can’t stand the words coming out of my mouth like you are right now, it makes my dick hard. You’re the only man I know who treats me like gum stuck to the bottom of your cleat.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to affect a casual pose. “And also, sometimes you can be funny.”

Casey shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a walking red flag.”

I just laughed. “You’re not the first person to point that out.”

“It’s guys like you who make guys like me give fake names when they hook up.”

“You know what I think?” I picked up my soda and took a long, noisy sip from the straw. “I think I’m just your brand of crazy.”

“You’re definitely crazy,” Casey agreed.

But in the end, he stayed. And that spoke volumes, without actually saying a word.