Val opened his mouth, but Saint kept going.

  “I’ve thought about kissing you. A lot. Like, all the time. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

  Sweet Sandra Bullock, Saint was going to kill him.

  Val had known a couple of guys who would argue that kissing a man—or getting a blow job from one—didn’t make them gay. It sure as hell made them delusional.

  “Saint….” Whatever the hell was going on, Val couldn’t let Saint do anything he’d regret because he was high on pain meds. This was a big deal, and as attracted as he was to Saint, because he was attracted to Saint, he couldn’t be his experiment. He’d never survive if he had Saint and then had to let him go.

  “What if you kiss me? Maybe then I might know.” Saint turned his face into Val’s, his lips brushing against Val’s skin.

  Val sighed and closed his eyes. He reached up and lay his hand on Saint’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You should rest.” Val moved Saint’s hand away and pulled back.

  “Okay,” Saint replied, clearly unaware of the admission he’d just made. “Will you stay?”

  “Sure.” Val took a seat in the chair next to the bed. By the time he sat back, Saint was softly snoring. He was so damned sweet. Val couldn’t even be mad at the guy. Eyes on the ceiling, Val cursed under his breath. He’d been right. There was something between them. As glad as he was to have his suspicions confirmed, it didn’t change anything. Saint had a lot to think about. Or maybe he didn’t. For all Val knew, when Saint woke up, he’d return to the way he had been before, pretending there was nothing between them, that he was straight.

  Whatever the outcome, it was up to Saint, and Val respected that. Saint was the only one to decide who he was and what he wanted to do with his life. Whether he came out or not was up to him. All Val could do was offer support if Saint wanted it. What he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do was complicate things further by giving in to whatever this was between them.

  Coming to terms with his sexuality had been some of the roughest years of Val’s life. He might not have been kicked out onto the streets like Frank had, but Val hadn’t been much better off with a father determined to beat the gay out of him.

  Raised in an extremely conservative home where men were manly breadwinners and women were wives relegated to the kitchen and raising the children, Val had buried who he was for years, forcing himself to be the man his family expected him to be.

  High school had been a self-loathing nightmare where he’d become someone he barely recognized in order to fit the mold. Then he went to college, stayed on campus in an all-male dorm, and joined a fraternity. His roommate had been exploring his sexuality, too. So yeah, all bets were off by the end of his first year. He might not have come out, but he wasn’t hiding who he was.

  Saint let out a little groan in his sleep, and Val ran a hand through his hair. It was fine. He was fine. All he had to do was treat Saint the same way he treated everyone else in his life, like a friend.

  Keeping Saint at a distance would be much easier now that Val was retired. He’d keep himself busy with the tavern, fixing it up and getting it ready to open, and if he got a little lonely, he’d go to Sapphire Sands and hook up with someone, same as he’d been doing for years. Unless Saint was on a job at the club or Val attended one of the Kings’ charity events, it was unlikely they’d see each other.

  Before he retired, they’d kept getting pushed into each other’s orbit, mainly because the Kings had encountered some trouble a little while back. When Fitz’s salon had been set on fire, Val had been called in, and Saint had been assigned to protect Fitz. Soon after, someone tried to kidnap Gio, so Saint was assigned as his executive protection.

  Things were different now. Val would no longer be called in to any situations involving the Kings. That was that, then. All he had to do was stay away. Initially, it might be a little challenging, but they’d eventually move on. Saint would undoubtedly realize Val wasn’t the one for him. He was young, gorgeous, and a good man. Once he figured out what he wanted for himself, Saint would forget whatever he thought he felt about Val.

  CHAPTER THREE

  This was torture. Absolute torture.

  When had he become that guy? The guy who checked his phone constantly in case he’d missed a text from a certain someone. And since when was that certain someone a guy?

  Saint was a hot fucking mess, and he hated it. He was in his thirties, for fuck’s sake. Shouldn’t he have had his shit together by now, or at least have figured out his sexuality? Apparently not.

  Instead, he kept thinking and dreaming about the damned fire chief. Former fire chief. Being at home with nothing to do and nothing to occupy his thoughts meant Val was on his mind constantly. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been at work because he’d have to focus on his assignment. But being home with nothing to do but recuperate?

  The first week Saint had been home recovering, he’d been happy to spend most of his time in bed sleeping. Not that he would have been able to do much else, considering all the meds he’d been on. It went by in a blur. He appreciated the guys at work taking turns checking up on him. His freezer was full of delicious home-cooked meals, thanks to Red, who’d brought him enough to feed an army.

  By the end of week two, Saint had been smothered within an inch of his life by what the Kings affectionately called “The Boyfriend Collective.” Personally, Saint had never come up against The Boyfriend Collective. He’d been around long enough to see its inception and watch it go from its initial three members to six, the head of the Collective being Ace’s billionaire husband, Colton Connolly.

  Before Gio got together with Joker and became part of the Collective, the Collective had decided Joker was a sweet puppy that needed feeding and coddling, which, quite frankly, Saint had found hysterical, considering the former Green Beret was the scariest and most volatile of the bunch. But Joker had soaked it in and loved every minute, often using it to his advantage to drive his brothers up the wall.

  The Boyfriend Collective was a force to be reckoned with for sure. They always got their way, and they’d set their sights on Saint. Thankfully, they used their powers for good. Even their meddling was done out of love.

  Colton, Laz, Fitz, Leo, and Gio, in particular, didn’t care that Saint had been a SEAL or that he’d suffered worse throughout his military career. The Boyfriend Collective had been activated, and Saint knew better than to put up a fight.

  Gio had insisted on getting him a nurse, at least for the first week, despite Saint’s protests that he’d be fine on his own. Colton hired someone to clean his apartment and do his laundry. Fitz “freshened everything up,” whatever that meant, though Saint had to admit the place looked and smelled nicer. Throw pillows and cozy blankets had appeared on his couch, a vase of fresh flowers on his kitchen counter, and several outlets now had air freshener plug-ins with soft scents like Cherry Blossom or Summer Day.

  An essential oil diffuser and several little bottles of oils and incense sticks had appeared on his dresser, courtesy of Laz, along with Epsom salt in his bathroom and little canisters of loose-leaf teas in his kitchen cupboard. Saint had been a little skeptical of the teas at first, but once he’d tried them, he found them pretty tasty.

  Leo had created movie playlists for him and filled his pantry with snacks. He’d programmed Saint’s phone to remind him when to take a pill. At night when he fell asleep, his TV turned itself off and a little speaker turned on to play soothing spa music. It had scared the shit out of Saint the first night he’d heard it. He’d been too out of it to figure out where the music was coming from.

  It was sweet, but if Saint spent one more day in his apartment doing nothing but watching TV and eating, he would lose his shit. He’d had a follow-up appointment with his doctor a couple of days ago and had been given the all-clear to resume normal, non-strenuous activities, which, unfortunately, did not include returning to work. Though technically, he could have been assigned desk duty, Jay had called to notify him that King insisted he take some personal days. Apparently, Saint had gone on long enough without taking time off. Saint had never had a boss who wanted him to take time off.

  “Are you sure he didn’t say anything?” Saint asked before stuffing a forkful of noodles into his mouth. His side was a little tender, but it was far from what it had been three weeks ago.

  Ryden shook his head, amused. “What were you hoping he’d say? Because you keep asking me that, and the answer hasn’t changed. He gave me his number to give you in case you needed anything since you passed out before he could give it to you. You were so stoned, man.” He frowned at the navy pillow next to him. “Are these new?”

  “Bro, they’ve been here for three weeks, and you only just noticed them?” Saint snickered. “Fitz brought them. And I don’t remember most of my time in the hospital,” he muttered, which meant he had been very out of it. “Fuck, what if I said something weird to him?”

  Ryden barked out a laugh. “Weird?” His eyes suddenly went huge. “Shit, what if you told him you wanted to touch his fireman’s pole?”

  Saint almost choked on his food, and he smacked Ryden’s hand away when his asshole best friend tried to pat his back. The laughing didn’t help. “For fuck’s sake! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “So you have been thinking about his pole.”

  “Stop referring to his dick as a pole, you juvenile.”

  “Still not denying it.”

  Saint clenched his jaw, his face feeling like it was on fire. He opened his mouth when Ryden put a hand up.

  “Whatever you’re about to say is bullshit, so don’t bother.” Ryden put his food container down on the coffee table. “You’ve been thinking about this and him for a while now. Since you met him. You’re questioning things. What’s the problem?”

  Saint wiped his mouth and put his plate down on the table. Ryden wasn’t wrong. Saint had been battling with this since he’d met Val. Then again….

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve had certain…thoughts about a guy. Of course, it never felt like this.” Like he couldn’t breathe, like he was on the verge of something life-changing but couldn’t quite figure it out.

  Ryden didn’t seem surprised, but he didn’t reply.

  “In school, I just brushed it off as my hormones being all over the place. After I married Alicia, I’d been attracted to a few guys over the years. It was just….” Saint shrugged. “Easy to ignore, you know? That’s really shitty, I know. Like, hey, I won’t choose to be bi when you never had a choice.”

  “First of all, ignoring it doesn’t mean you’re not bisexual. Not having had a relationship with a guy doesn’t mean you’re not bisexual. I’m the last person who’s gonna judge you. Hell, I grew up in Texas and joined the military, so I get it. It was easy for you to ignore because you were in love, happily married, and not a cheating asshole. But what if you hadn’t been married? Can you say nothing would have happened with any of those guys you were attracted to?”

  Ryden wasn’t wrong. Saint might have wondered about the men he found himself attracted to, but he never would have acted on it. He’d loved his wife, and until she fell in love with someone else, he’d thought that was it for him.

  “What if…what if I am bi?”

  “I don’t think there’s a what-if, buddy.”

  “Right. No, you’re right. What if I’m not ready to come out?”

  Ryden’s expression softened. “Then you’re not ready. Look, some people explode out of the closet like a glitter bomb, dressed in a sparkling unicorn onesie, waving a rainbow flag, and singing Lady Gaga. Some people are more reserved about it. In between those two are a million other ways to come out, none of which are right or wrong. It’s about you and your experience. No one gets to tell you what that is.”

  Saint nodded. He sat back against the cushions. He’d recently had a similar conversation with Gio about how everyone’s experience differed. Not everyone had it all figured out by the time they hit puberty. It had been a confusing time for him, but he hadn’t exactly had anyone in his life then who would have understood or helped him through it.

  “Come with me to Sapphire Sands tonight,” Ryden said, surprising the hell out of Saint.

  “What?”

  “You know. Club. Dance.” Ryden did a little shimmy on the couch, making Saint laugh.

  “You’re such a dork. I don’t know. Besides, I’m not a member.” The Kings had company-wide membership since they held a security contract with Sapphire Sands, but the club was exclusively for men in the GBTQ community, so Saint had never registered as a member.

  “You can come as my guest and decide if you want to register for your membership. What are you afraid of? That you might get hit on by a bunch of dudes, or that you might like it?”

  Saint arched an eyebrow at his obnoxious friend. “I’ve worked jobs at Sapphire Sands. I’ve been hit on plenty.”

  “Ooh, look at you, stud muffin.” Ryden squeezed Saint’s bicep. “I mean, what do you expect? You strut around the place with your big Navy SEAL muscles in that tight uniform, and the sharks are gonna circle.”

  “First of all, I do not strut. Second of all, my uniform is not tight.”

  Ryden hummed. “Okay.” He stood and stretched. “Well? What do you say? Might give you some of those answers you’re looking for.”

  Maybe Ryden was right. What better place to find some answers than Sapphire Sands? He’d worked enough jobs there to be familiar with the place, and he’d always felt comfortable. Even in the beginning, before the club members knew he was a bodyguard and hit on him, he hadn’t felt weird. And maybe his eyes had roamed on occasion. He’d told himself he was just being vigilant, but….

  “Why not.” Saint stood and started clearing off the coffee table. Once he’d put the leftovers in the fridge and put the dishes in the dishwasher, he headed for his bedroom, calling out over his shoulder. “Gonna take a shower and get dressed. Be right out.”

  “Okay. We have to swing by my place so I can get all prettied up,” Ryden replied, dropping back onto the couch.

  Was he going to do this? What if it was too much too soon? Then again, he didn’t need to do anything with anyone. He could have a good time without hooking up with someone. He’d never done anything like this, so he’d have to play it by ear.

  It didn’t take Saint long to get ready. Showering was easier now that he didn’t have stitches to worry about. He was still sore, but the bruising had gone down a lot. In time the scar would fade just as the others had, but it would never disappear entirely.

  Dressed in a three-quarter length sleeve, navy button-down shirt with the top button open, and charcoal gray pants, he finished getting ready and headed into the living room. The stop at Ryden’s apartment was quick, and then they were off to Sapphire Sands.

  Since Four Kings Security provided the bouncers at the club, Saint knew the two guys at the main entrance beneath the awning. They gave him curious smiles but didn’t ask, just let him and Ryden in. The nightclub was packed, what with it being a Saturday night. The music was loud, but not enough that you couldn’t have a conversation without shouting.

  As far as clubs went, it was the nicest Saint had ever been to, but then again, it catered to a wealthy clientele, and if Saint hadn’t worked for Four Kings Security, he would never have qualified for membership.

  The ambiance was great, and just from stepping inside, you could tell it was an exclusive club. Everything was black with silver accents. The neon lights in Sapphire Sands’s signature blue had been tastefully and strategically placed around the club to give it an edgy look without being tacky.

  The space was huge, with plenty of seating in the form of booths, some of which were more private than others. Today, the black plinths were up, supporting the club’s beautiful go-go boys in their sparkling blue shorts and sneakers as they danced provocatively. Saint’s gaze had wandered over to a dancer or two while on duty, his face getting hot when one of them noticed and blew him a kiss.

  Servers moved expertly among the crowd carrying trays of cocktails and spirits. Ryden found them a table, and it didn’t take long before their drink order had been taken.

  “It’s weird,” Saint said, taking everything in. When he was here on the job, his focus was on his client and any possible threat that might present itself. He took nothing for granted, not even the fact that they were in an exclusive members-only club. He’d been doing this job long enough to know that a threat could happen anytime, anywhere. Even if the members might not be a threat, the members were allowed guests, just like Saint was a guest of Ryden’s tonight. And although advance notice had to be given, there wasn’t enough time for Sapphire Sands to vet every guest who might be showing up for a few hours any given night.

  “What’s weird?” Ryden asked, snapping Saint from his thoughts.

  “Being here as a guest. Everything looks so different.” Like he was seeing the place for the first time.

  Their beers arrived, and Saint thanked the waiter. “How often do you come here?”

  “Not as often as you think. You know how it is with our schedules.”

  True. Ryden might not work in executive protection, but like the rest of them, he could be on sight doing a risk assessment any day and time of the week, depending on when their clients needed them and how urgent it was. Clients liked to spring last-minute changes on them, leaving everyone to scramble, and that didn’t even take into account any unforeseen circumstances that might pop up.

  “See anything you like?” Ryden asked, his smile wide.

  Saint scanned the crowd. So many men. Some younger than Saint, some older, taller, shorter, leaner, more muscular…. How was he supposed to know which of these men would do it for him or if they even would? He found plenty of them attractive.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, why don’t we get out on the dance floor, bust a few moves, and see where the night takes us?”