Burn Zone (Hotshots 1) - Page 5
And fuck it all, there could not be something about Jacob. No way, no how.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” For the second time that day, he played dumb, knowing full well Jacob wasn’t going to buy it any more than his brother had.
“I get it. You’re not out yet. But I’ve heard enough of Wyatt’s stupid jokes when he thinks you guys are alone to know you probably swing my way, at least sometimes. And like I said, I’m not blind.”
The words to deny Jacob’s assumption rose in his throat, but wouldn’t leave his lips. Something about Jacob indeed. Linc could lie about this by omission or necessity to just about anyone else. But not Jacob. From the start of helping Linc, he’d earned Linc’s trust. And maybe his truthfulness too, because he simply couldn’t make the lie come.
“You’re not blind. It’s no one’s business but mine though.”
“Good.” Jacob drew the word out, sinful and seductive and more dangerous than fraying webbing on a jump rig. “I can keep a secret.”
If only. But no. His bones still remembered with breathtaking accuracy how it had felt, dangling above the earth that morning, little pieces of rope and webbing all that separated him and a broken neck. The view might have been nice, but the fall would have been deadly, save Wyatt’s intervention. Not unlike this moment here.
I’ve got you, buddy.
Stay away from my little brother.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not letting you stay here.”
“Why? You think I’m on the rebound from Tyler? Or you think I’ll out you? Or...” His voice hardened and his hand tightened on Linc’s shoulder. “It’s Wyatt, isn’t it? Did he threaten you?”
“No.” This time the lie came easy, both because he had to and because he didn’t like Jacob’s tone, like he was ready to go to war with Wyatt on his behalf. That sort of concern, an almost protectiveness, made him shift against the plastic bucket. He didn’t need anyone playing champion for him.
Jacob’s grip softened, massaging Linc’s neck with a touch that had him stifling a groan. His hands were strong, calloused from hard work and years in the gym and felt better than a hot shower after a long day in the field.
“He wouldn’t have to know. It could be just an itch we scratch this one time.”
“Ha.” Oh, to be nineteen and so damn sure of himself. And that right there was the other reason why Linc had to turn him down. There wouldn’t be any one time only for him, not the way Jacob pulled him in even when he knew full well he had to resist. Jacob, who apparently saw what hundreds of guys he’d worked with hadn’t. Jacob, who made him laugh even while hauling mountains of moldy magazines, a feat not many could manage.
But Jacob had all but said it himself—he was nursing a broken heart from Tyler, and Linc had no desire to chance everything just to be the rebound fuck the kid forgot in a month.
“Not happening.”
“Not tonight, maybe, but—”
“Not now, not ever. There’s plenty of fish your own age to fry. Go find one.” He forced himself to pull away from that delicious torment, to stand up because his body was that damn weak that another few minutes and he’d be making all sorts of stupid choices. Better to be firm now.
“Your loss.” The hurt in Jacob’s voice as he scampered off the railing pierced Linc like a dart, a sharp, swift pain he’d do anything to take away. Anything, that was, except the one thing Jacob seemed to want.
“I’m sure it is.” He wasn’t trying to be flip. He absolutely was sincere—both sure that he’d regret turning him down and sure that he was doing the right thing. Jacob was simply a risk he wasn’t ever going to be able to afford.
Chapter Two
Present, April
The Painter’s Ridge Air Base parking lot was full, exactly how Jacob had expected it to be on this early morning. He’d anticipated the nervous flutters in his stomach as well, had skipped both coffee and cereal, too hyped to get here where all the smoke jumpers were reporting for orientation for the coming season. At least, it was easiest to tell himself it was hype, not try to name all the other things bumping around in his empty gut. And he’d also predicted the angry voice that greeted him moments after he entered the training facility.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Linc looked like he’d spent the winter doing nothing except pumping iron, even more ripped and fierce looking than usual. And hot as fuck, because some things never changed. Short, dark buzz cut, similarly dark, trimmed facial scruff, forearm tats poking out of the rolled back sleeves of his flannel shirt. Menacing glare that would make weaker men than Jacob quake in their boots, but only earned a shrug from him.
Source: readsnovelonline.net