His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

“Sorry we’re so late. We were in the parking lot talking. So, are you unwound now?” Free walked around the pool table and stood beside him. “Looks like we talked too long out there. All the beer and food is gone.”

Hart could just barely see God over Free’s six-foot one frame, making an obvious drinking gesture with his hand and pointing toward the bar. Free looked over his shoulder and God hurried to put his hand down and grab his beer, innocently staring off into space until Free turned back around.

“Well, I did say the first round is on me. I rode my bike, but I’m allowed one beer.”

Free’s eyes widened. The dark irises shining with excitement. “Yeah, I saw it out there. Must be nice to jump on that and ride after being gone for so long, yes? It looks hot as hell. I like all the black and chrome. Always wanted a hog myself, but with moving around so much and all…”

Hart smiled. He could listen to that slight British accent all evening. And he could definitely talk bikes without any problem. Free moved toward the bar and Hart followed him like a hopeless Pepé Le Pew.

Free

They weren’t supposed to sit out there for over an hour, but Free wasn’t regretting it. He and Tech could always come up with great strategies. He hadn’t felt as sure before he left home, but his friend had really put his mind at ease. Even told him that Hart had to be interested in him because, before Free started working there, he never used to come down to their department so much.

He could feel Hart’s strong, hot presence close behind him. He saw a secluded spot at the end of the bar, and away from their teams. Free settled on the seat and Hart took his time sitting on the stool beside him, as if he was trying hard not to touch him. Clearing his throat, he spun a little in the big captain’s direction and casually bumped their knees together. Hart didn’t waste a second, inching a little farther away.

Shit.

“What you drinking?” Hart asked with enthusiasm.

Free hoped he hadn’t already messed up by trying to break the touch barrier. “Just a beer. Draft is good.”

“Two Bud Light drafts,” Hart told the bartender when she made their way down to them.

“So, how come no hog?”

Free had to think about Hart’s question a second then sat up a little higher, “Because relocating, going from job to job like I did made it difficult. And if I invested that much money into a bike, I’d want it custom made for me. Like my computers. In the meantime, the Tao scooter I have does the trick. Tech only lives across the way, so I don’t have a commute any longer. I been thinking about parking myself here for a while, though. Might consider finding a place to rent…maybe getting that custom-built bike finally.”

The bartender set their beers in front of them and asked, “You wanna order any food. I can get you menus.”

“Did you want to eat?” Hart asked him nicely.

Any time this man looked at him in that shy, concerned way or when he got all flustered and tongue-tied as if he couldn’t find his words, it made Free’s heart stutter. “Not right now.”

“Okay.”

They were silent for a minute before Hart asked him to tell him what kind of customizations he’d make if he had a motorcycle. They talked about bikes and riding for a while. Free loved the way Hart’s bright blue eyes shone when he talked about his Harley and the open road or the highways he’d let her rip down. He was so animated and funny. The fumbling man who’d greeted him when they first came in was gone. When Hart spoke of his hobbies or work, he was so full of confidence and knowledge, Free felt he could listen to him all night.

Free finished his beer shortly after Hart was done. He didn’t want to get up and he didn’t want to join the other guys. He wasn’t here for them, anyway. Free remembered the advice that Tech gave him and asked Hart some more about his work, “So, what’s on the agenda for next week? You were gone for a while. Any more lengthy assignments that’ll have you gone for weeks?”

Hart’s expression changed. Free hadn’t meant to phrase it like that.

“It’s not always like that.” Hart’s baby blues got bigger and he started to fumble his words again, “No. Not at all. I have late evenings free and other time…I’m not fully busy, I mean I’m always busy. But, not…um, no. Nothing lengthy, I guess. Not that I’ve heard.”

It wasn’t his intention to make it seem like the demands of Hart’s job was an issue. They both had positions that often required their undivided attention. He wouldn’t mind if Hart was consumed with work every now and then. They could make time for each other, just like all the other guys on his team did for their partners. Free had to get them back on the right track.