Up in Smoke (Hotshots 4)

“But—”

“Look. I’m not sure your ego needs the win, but that hookup with Shelby? It was before I met you the next day.” Even now, he could still feel the thrum under his skin, how alive he’d felt simply talking with Shane. “After we jumped together, I couldn’t get you out of my head for a while. But you were both leaving town, so it didn’t much matter.”

“You thought about me?” Shane’s mouth quirked like he was thinking about smiling and trying to hold it back.

“Fuck yeah.” Brandt went all in on trying to earn that smile. And he won a soft, shy grin for his honesty, Shane’s dark lashes fluttering against his pink cheeks.

“Me too,” Shane whispered.

“See? Another reason down. What else do you got?” He leaned back in his chair, letting the warmth in his chest spread to other body parts.

“You wouldn’t be worried that hooking up with me might get back to your buddies?”

“Nope.” Brandt met him level stare for level stare.

“What is your deal anyway? Bi? Pan?” Shane twirled his half-empty bottle between long fingers. “You don’t strike me as the type who’s out, but you also don’t seem particularly freaked out by what just happened.”

“I’ve been in too many truly crappy situations to get all worked up over what makes my dick twitch. Honestly, I did the whole mixed-up feelings thing in my teens and twenties, trying to figure out why it was some guys but not others but still plenty of women. And then Roger died, and fuck it. Never said a word to him, but my heart knew.”

“Yeah,” Shane said softly.

“Does it matter if it has a label? I like what I like, and I’m not here to defend it to anyone. Life’s too damn short to worry about what others might think.”

“I get that. I’m not exactly out on the road either. Country and folk music is way more welcoming than it used to be, but a lot of these events are in super rural communities, so I keep to myself mainly. And fuck. Of freaking course it would turn out that you’ve got more experience than me.” Shane’s laugh was belly deep and warmed Brandt even more than the beer.

“Did I say that?” Brandt joined him in chuckling. It was nice, talking openly like this. “Actually, I’ve done a lot of looking, a little kissing, some touching, but not a ton beyond that. And that, my friend, is exactly why we should let ourselves do what we already did even more.”

“How do you figure?”

“Maybe we’ve both had limited opportunities to explore some of this. And I get that neither of us wants something heavy or permanent, but it can be more than a one-off hookup. More room to try stuff, maybe stuff you’ve been wanting for a long time.” Brandt opened his palm, a welcoming gesture.

“Hmm.” Shane made a thoughtful noise.

“What do you say? You can’t tell me you’re not curious about a repeat or ten.” Brandt wasn’t one to pressure, so he tried to keep his posture and tone neutral, but damn if he didn’t want—need—Shane to see the benefits of continuing to hook up. His pulse pounded. Once wasn’t nearly enough.

Chapter Twelve

Shane was curious all right. Curious about what the rest of Brandt looked like under his clothes, what he’d feel like skin to skin, what other noises Shane could coax from him given more time. And he was curious in the general sense of the word too, curious about what it might feel like to kiss someone more than a handful of times, curious about the vast real estate between the one-night stands he was so opposed to and the sort of permanency he knew wasn’t for someone like him. Time to explore. Damn but Brandt was tempting as hell.

“I can be curious but also recognize a damn bad idea when I see it. I can’t stick around indefinitely.” The beer bottle was cool and slick against his sweaty palms. “I don’t want a messy parting. And I’d like to be able to see the kiddo. Visit.”

He’d been thinking about that while he’d been singing. He might need to get back on the road eventually, but he wasn’t going to give up this baby. He’d be the fun uncle. Or at least the guy with cool souvenirs from far-flung towns.

“Of course. You’re family to her.” Brandt nodded like this was a given, easing some of the tightness in Shane’s back. “And contrary to popular belief, it’s possible to be adult about a little fling. You’ll move on when you’re ready to, and I’m not gonna be the static line, snapping you back. I’m not really high on drama.”

“You’re a good guy,” he allowed. And Brandt was. Shane was the one who had brought drama to his doorstep, and Brandt had been nothing other than responsible. He was way more than the party-happy sky cowboy Shane had assumed at their first meeting.