Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

True to his word, Nate was ready at quarter to ten and had the car warmed and ready to go at exactly ten o'clock. He was going to give it five minutes, then leave whether or not Jay got to the car. At two minutes after, the passenger door opened and Jay was there with an expectant look on his face. The interior light showed Nate enough to know that Jay was looking for trouble tonight. He was walking sin in a close-fitting T-shirt and jeans so tight the groin pulled. Wasn't he cold? Where was his thick down jacket? Nate saw that Jay was carrying the coat and wished to hell he'd put it on. Anything to hide his body. Added to that he was clean-shaven and smelled like heaven.

"Get in," Nate ordered gruffly. "Shut the freaking door."

Jay scrambled in and did as he was told, the scent of him enveloped Nate's senses. He couldn't damn well breathe without smelling whatever cologne or shit Jay was wearing.

"What is that smell?" he snapped irritably.

Jay cast a quick glance his way. "Hugo Boss. Present from Ashley and the kids."

"It's girly," Nate observed.

Jay turned fully in his seat, a frown pasted on his face. "It's an eighty-dollar bottle that they saved for a year to buy me, and I happen to like it."

"And what the hell are you wearing?"

Jay looked down at his lap and back up. "Clothes," he said.

Was it just Nate, or was there a hint of irritation in Jay's voice? "Put your coat on."

"We're in a car," Jay replied reasonably.

"Fuck. They'll eat you alive," Nate snapped. "This is a biker bar. For fuck's sake, go back and change into something looser and less—" He indicated with his hand the tight jeans and T-shirt. "—whatever."

"Nope." Jay leaned closer to Nate. "I happen to want to be eaten alive."

"Jesus fuck," Nate cursed. "You one of those slut gays who sleep with everyone?"

The interior light switched off on the timer and suddenly the two men were in darkness. Nate cursed the timing—he wished he could see Jay's expression in response to the last question. The thought of one of the guys in the bar getting handsy with Jay was suddenly a very pressing problem for Nate.

"Says the man who told me he takes lube and condoms to the bar every time he goes," Jay deadpanned.

Nate took the car out of park and crossed the bridge to the main road. He wanted to have last say on this. "Don't blame me when some leather bear decides to strap you to his bike and kidnap you."

Next to him in the dark, Jay chuckled. "Well, that would be one fantasy off the list."

Nate gripped the steering wheel tighter and gritted his teeth. Damn the man and his quick, clever responses. The journey was long enough for Nate to work up a head of steam, although he couldn't get to the core of what was pissing him off. Was it the thought of Jay sleeping with an indiscriminate numbers of guys? Or not sleeping . Was it maybe because Jay apparently had fantasies about leather and bikers and didn't mention cowboys once? Or was it just that he realized he would never be the fantasy guy Jay had suggested he lusted after? Whatever the answer was, it certainly wasn't coming to him on this journey, and all too soon they reached the bar.

Carter's looked busy, a row of bikes to either side of the door and loud music. Outside it looked like a biker's place, but inside the clientele was as varied as it could be. Couples, singles, gay or not—this was the place to come for a casual hookup or a drink in a space where no one judged you. Saul, who owned Carter's, was ex-Army, and no one argued with the fifty-year-old and his supply of registered guns, so any tensions were dealt with summarily. Added to that he was one of five siblings and the only one who wasn't a cop. Links to the force were kind of handy. Nate loved that inside was peace and security.

They walked to the door, and worry consumed Nate. What would happen in there? The guys at this place expected certain types of visitors—bikers, cowboys, some passing trade, but not much. In all the years of coming here, he'd never seen someone as pretty and fresh as Jay. He hadn't been joking when he said they would eat Jay alive. Steeling himself for a reaction from whoever was inside, Nate pushed through the door.

At first no one paid any attention, then someone noticed Jay and the talk traveled fast. The noise didn't disappear altogether, but it diminished noticeably. Next to Nate, Jay grinned, then forged a path to the bar.

Nate followed helplessly. Why the hell take the payback this far and actually carry through on taking Jay anywhere near other available gay men? He'd never expected Jay to take him up on the offer, and now he was stuck babysitting the naive city boy and watching anyone who came anywhere near him.

Nate sat on the stool next to Jay and was relieved when the chatter resumed its normal level against the sound of the music.

"Beer," Jay called out.

The guy behind the bar—a new one that Nate hadn't seen before—did a complete comedic double-take when he looked at Jay. Without saying a word, he retrieved a beer, removed the cap, and pushed the bottle over the bar. With a wink and a very obvious come-on stance, the guy smiled at Jay. "On me, gorgeous," he said.

Nate fought the desire to punch him. He didn't look much over twenty-one, and there was no way Jay was going to be falling for the barkeep's charms—not on Nate's watch.

"I'll have a Coke," Nate said forcefully.

The barkeep winced at the tone and glanced at him apologetically. Great, the guy thought Jay and Nate were an item. Nate pushed the money over in exchange for the Coke. The barkeep recovered quickly. If anything, the invitation oozed from him a little more thickly.

"Hell, cowboy, I'll pay for your drink as well," the barkeep said. "I'm Mike, and I'm off at one if you two want to play."

The barkeep waited for a response, and Nate was stunned. Playing in a threesome wasn't something he had personally tried, and for some reason the idea of him and Jay and another was something he found hard to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jay beat him to it.

"Him and me?" Jay asked with a smirk. "In the same bed? I'm lucky if I can get him in the same room and not want to kill him."

"So just you and me, then," Mike said. He flicked his blond hair away from his eyes and ran his tongue over his lips.

Christ. This was like some scene out of a porn movie or an incredibly badly written comedy.

"Maybe," Jay said, lifting the beer bottle in salute. "I want to see the rest of the menu."

He swiveled in his seat to face the sea of bodies and Nate's general level of shock rose higher. That was rude—he'd cut Mike dead. Nate glanced apologetically at Mike, then shook his head when he spotted Mike grinning and adjusting his groin. He didn't look like a man who was insulted or pissed off. He'd clearly come under Jay's spell. As did the built-like-a-brick-outhouse biker who had come to a stop in front of Jay and leaned over him to grab another beer.

"You're pretty," the biker said with a growl.

Nate's eyes widened. He looked from Jay to the muscle-bound man and back again. He knew this guy was called Hunter: built, tattooed, and with a reputation for being a bottom that went entirely against the bad-biker character he portrayed.

Is Jay interested? Is that all it takes? A man calls Jay pretty and off they go, hand in hand, to one of the back rooms?

Nate clenched his fists. Hunter may well have nearly a foot in height and many pounds on Nate, but he could take him if he had to.

Jay inclined his head, then sipped his beer. "Thank you."

Big guy indicated one of the dark corners. "I'm at the back table if you want a beer." He reached out and ran a hand from Jay's temple to his chest, circling a nipple that was erect against the silky softness of the tight T-shirt.

Nate had to hold himself back— what the hell?

"I'll remember that," Jay said easily.

Hunter left, and Jay didn't seem fazed at all by what had happened. In two minutes, he had been propositioned not once, but twice. When a third man stepped up beside Jay and opened his mouth to talk, Nate simply stood up in a dramatic movement and growled. He could hear himself do it. All possessive and angry, and it was enough for the new guy to slink away.

"Jesus, Nate, I can sort this for myself," Jay barked irritably. He slid off the stool. "I want to dance."

With that, he disappeared into the throng of maybe forty people—men, women, in groups, couples, or alone, all crammed into a small space made by clearing tables to one side.

Panic hit Nate when he lost sight of Jay. Perhaps bringing him here tonight was the wrong thing to do? Maybe he should have waited a bit, but all he'd wanted was to get a rise out of Jay and his infuriating calm and to get revenge for the teasing and flirting in the office. All that had happened was that he was stuck watching the sexy, sweet-smelling man writhing on the dance floor with far too many admirers. Nate forcibly unclenched his fists and stretched his fingers. He was acting like a fucking guard dog, and Jay was handling himself fine. Nate needed to relax.

At one point, when he was trying not to stare at the dancing, he spotted Liam across the room and they exchanged heated looks. Nate recalled the young guy bending over for him the last time he was here. Maybe he could get some more of that tonight. Maybe fucking Liam into the mattress would stop the irritating thought that he wanted to fuck Jay instead. Or that he wanted Jay to do the same thing to him.

Jeez.

Jay made it through three tracks of music, and when he made no sign of moving from his place alongside two men, Nate had to make a move. He sucked it up and joined the fray.

Nate was immediately swallowed into the crowd and instinctively began moving to the beat of the song as he walked closer. When he finally made it to Jay's side, he patted him on the shoulder. Jay spun on his heel and Nate held out a hand to steady him.

"Cowboy!" Jay shouted over the music.

In a sinuous movement, Jay gripped one of Nate's shoulders and shuffled closer so that very little separated them. The two men dancing with Jay drifted off to face other dancers, and suddenly it seemed like it was just Nate and Jay swaying to the music.

"You need to be careful!" Nate shouted close to his ear.

"Why?" Jay shouted back.

His breath smelled of beer and his body scent was a mix of the infuriating aftershave mingled with sweat and dust. Suddenly Jay became a four-course meal and Nate was very hungry.

"Keep your eyes open," Nate warned.

As if to make that comment mean nothing, Jay deliberately closed his eyes and moved to the beat of the music. Somewhere along the line, Jay had lost his bottle of beer, or finished it, or whatever. He had both hands free, and he used them to steady himself by gripping hard to Nate's shoulders. He had closed his eyes and was mouthing the words along with the song. Was he aware it was Nate holding him? He'd said "cowboy," they'd spoken, but there were a lot of cowboys mixed in with the bikers and the other varied clientele.

"Open your eyes, Jay," Nate shouted over the music.

Jay did as Nate had asked, and Nate was suddenly seeing brown eyes glazed with emotion. Then Jay smiled and closed his eyes again.

Instinctively Nate steadied Jay and that meant his hands rested on Jay's hips. The feel of the man beneath his touch was intoxicating and Nate held hard. Jay fit into his arms perfectly: a little shorter, a little slimmer, just the right height, and his lips, damp with sweat or beer—Nate didn't know—were what he zeroed in on. Jay swayed with the music. The move took them closer and fuck, Jay was hard. Nate gave in to the temptation and pressed them closer still until he was sure Jay could feel how hard he was as well.

All thoughts of impropriety or fears of rejection flew out the window. Nate was lost in the smile of pleasure that curved Jay's damp lips. What would he taste like? Would Jay return the kiss? Would Jay push him away? How could he risk this? He eased his hold on Jay's hips and slouched a little so that their groins aligned—suddenly they were frotting firmly and rhythmically to some Eminem mix. There was no way he could stop himself.

"Can I kiss you?" Nate said into Jay's ear.

Jay smiled at him, but it wasn't clear that he'd heard what Nate said. Hell, he should kiss Jay and stop all this delay in taking what he really wanted. Someone jostled him from behind and the movement threw him off his spiral of the pros and cons of denial. When the person who jostled them attempted to insinuate themselves between Nate and Jay, abruptly everything was clear.

"Fuck off," Nate shouted clearly to the interloper, and in a quick move, he got his first taste of the sexy city boy. The press of his lips against Jay's was intoxicating, and they kissed and swayed to the beat of the music. Their hard cocks pressed together and—finally—the kiss deepened. Jay let him in and Nate took every advantage. Fuck the fact Jay worked for the ranch, fuck that they had absolutely zero in common, forget that Jay had a degree and a life that would take him far away from Nate's world sometime soon.

Nate could ignore all that because Jay tasted good, smelled good, and the thought of taking this horizontal had him losing himself in the kiss. Jay raised his arms and wrapped his hands around the back of Nate's head, and with a groan Nate could feel in the kiss, Jay held tight and didn't let go.

One song segued into another—a faster track that blurred into the next until the press of bodies around them lessened and the kisses became nothing more than exchanged breath and a promise of wanting more.

Without words Jay released his hold around Nate's neck, and they left Carter's by the front door. The cold of the Montana night hit them. There had been no point in wearing jackets into the bar, and neither wore particularly warm clothing. Unspoken, they quickened their pace until they made it to Nate's jeep.

In the car, there was still silence. Nate gripped the wheel. What now?

In all his years of being gay and sexually active, Nate had never taken a lover who lasted more than one fuck.

"I'll understand if you want to…," Nate began. Although what would he understand? That Jay would be so affronted he would pack up his family and leave? Or that Jay called Nate on inappropriate advances? What?

"I brought condoms and lube," Jay said quietly. He teased, "Seems a shame to waste them."

Nate felt hope mixed with a healthy dose of lust before it hit him—he didn't want that. Not with Jay. He couldn't reconcile random sex with Jay in his head alongside what he'd done with other men at Carter's. He wanted something else—different. Very deliberately he turned in the car and willed his damn cock to settle the hell down.

"How about dinner?" he said instead.

Jay glanced at the dashboard clock. "It's 1:00 a.m."

"I don't mean tonight," Nate explained. "I mean tomorrow maybe, or another day. There's a place not far from here we could go, up the mountain. Steaks, potatoes—" He stopped talking when Jay quirked an eyebrow. Evidently Nate didn't need to list the menu.

"Like a date," Jay summed up.

Nate was relieved that Jay got the point, then waited with bated breath for the reply. He didn't know what it was like in the Big Apple when it came to relationships, and he was probably crossing all kinds of lines here, but in the three years since Carter's became more than just a bar, he'd hooked up maybe six times. Six didn't make him any kind of expert in long-term relationships or, hell, in overnight meet-ups either.

"Yeah," he said.

"Which could, in itself, lead to another date?" Jay asked thoughtfully.

"Maybe, if I don't bore you on the first one," Nate smiled.

Jay shuffled in his seat and reached out a hand to rest it on Nate's cheek. Instinctively Nate leaned into the touch.

"I'd like that," Jay said. "But does that mean we can't use the condoms tonight?"

Nate laughed lowly. "Not tonight." He was more serious. "I want to take things slow, Jay. We don't rush things 'round here."

As soon as he spouted that particular piece of nonsense, he wished he could withdraw the words. Saying he wanted to do things slowly implied that he thought this was more than just maybe a satisfying, short-term, fuck buddy kind of thing. He was lost in the spiral of indecision, and he hated it. He wasn't that man. He was honest to a fault, normal, ordinary—nothing special. But one thing he did have going as a plus for him was that he always knew his own mind. Always. So how the hell was Jay getting under his skin and making him doubt himself?

"Do it slowly?" Jay repeated. There was a question in the three words.

Nate was suddenly on the back foot. Jay was probably looking for a one-night stand, but Nate was looking more for friends with benefits. There was something about this man and his teasing and smiling and the way he made Nate laugh.

"I like you," Nate began. "I was thinking, just for the time you're here, we could be friends."

"With benefits?"

Nate felt relief flood him. Jay got the point of what he'd been trying to say. Must be the college degree. "Yeah."

Jay hesitated momentarily, then nodded. "Okay. One thing, though—not too slow with the benefits thing because, Cowboy, I really need to get my hands on you."

Nate's cock was on board with that, but his ingrained sense of what was right fought his instinctive urges. Instead of placating Jay and giving him a timescale of when they could eventually end up in bed with each other, he turned back to face front and started the engine.

"Nope," he said with his best cowboy drawl, "won't be long."

They made the journey home in silence and left each other in the parking lot at Crooked Tree with nothing more than a lingering, soft kiss.

Nate cradled Jay's face in his hands. "Dinner. Monday night at seven. Meet you in the parking lot."

"Uh-huh," Jay whispered into the kiss.

"Are you listening to me, Jay?"

One final kiss and Jay pulled away. "I heard you, Nate. Monday."