Saint chuckled and shook his head. “No one says ‘bust a move’ anymore.”

  “I do. I just said it. I’m bringing it back.”

  “Good luck with that.” Saint took another swig of his beer, then got up and followed Ryden to the packed dance floor. He was determined not to do what he always did and overthink the hell out of things. Just go with the flow. If something happened tonight, it happened. If it didn’t, it didn’t. No big deal.

  Techno music wasn’t something he’d typically listen to, but it got everyone pumped and dancing. Lots of sweaty bodies in various stages of undress surrounded him, some belonging to men who looked at him with interest. A couple of guys flirted with him, one running a hand down his arm, and he liked it.

  And then a tall, broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair dressed in an expensive-looking suit appeared before him. He had a chiseled jaw full of stubble and was several years older than Saint. A shiver ran through him. The guy reminded him of Val, but his eyes were blue instead of intense gray. He leaned in close.

  “Are you here with someone?”

  Saint shook his head, his stomach filling with butterflies at the man’s wide smile. Apparently, Saint had a type. He let himself get pulled into the bigger man’s arms, his breath quickening at the feel of the guy’s leg between his as they danced together.

  It was certainly…different, being pulled into big, strong arms against a solid wall of muscle. He liked it. A lot more than he thought he would. Is this what it would feel like to be in Val’s arms? It would probably feel better because he knew Val. Trusted him. Wanted him. The man leaned in, and Saint took in the subtle scent of his cologne.

  “Why don’t we get to know each other better?”

  “Sure.”

  The guy was hot, and Saint enjoyed his firm but gentle touches as he led Saint off the dance floor and toward one side of the club. The guy stopped next to the wall and turned, maneuvering Saint so his back was against the wall.

  “Nervous?”

  “A little.”

  “Why?”

  What was he supposed to say? That this was his first time doing anything with a guy? That he had no idea what the hell he was doing? He didn’t want to play games, but if he didn’t try, how would he know?

  The man tilted his head. “I’ve seen you here before.”

  “I’ve been here with clients. I work in executive protection.”

  “Sexy.”

  Not really, but okay.

  “So, you protect people with your body?” He asked, his voice low and husky as he ran a hand around Saint’s waist to his ass.

  Zero points for originality, but A-plus for effort and making Saint feel hot and horny. The more time he spent with…? He should probably at least ask the guy his name.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Vic.”

  Of course it was. The Universe was fucking with him. Had to be.

  The more time Saint spent with Vic touching and feeling him up, the more he thought about Val. If he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine Val’s hand squeezing his ass, his lips brushing against Saint’s jaw. Lips touched his neck, and Saint groaned. What did Val taste like? Were his lips soft or firm? He always smelled amazing, so Saint didn’t need to wonder about that.

  “Fuck, you’re sexy,” Vic grumbled, rubbing his erection against Saint’s leg.

  “Oh, god.” Well, there was no mistaking his sexuality. He was most certainly not straight.

  Maybe he’d never been with a guy before, but his body was pretty sure what it wanted. His brain might be a few steps behind, but Saint wouldn’t overthink it. He gave himself over to the sensation, aware of Vic moving with him until they reached the thick black curtains separating the club and the private rooms out back.

  It was decision time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Val had great intentions when he woke up this morning. He was going to have a long, productive day working at the tavern.

  “You know what they say about good intentions,” Val muttered to himself as he lined up another nail. Speaking of hell, maybe he could stop putting himself through it and focus on the damn task at hand.

  After getting up nice and early, he’d had his coffee and a nice breakfast at his kitchen counter, where he put together a list of all the things he planned to have done by the end of the day. The list was ambitious, but Val had a plan, damn it, and he was going to stick to it. So, he gathered his supplies, put some music on, and got to it. Except somehow now it was dark outside, and he’d barely gotten anything done. Why?

  Now that he was officially retired, he could work on his tavern full-time rather than a few hours here and there.. He’d gotten a lot done in the three years since he’d bought the property. If he wanted to get it ready in time for the opening night he’d worked out, he needed to get his ass in gear.

  The place had been gutted completely, giving him a blank canvas to work with. Once his business plan had been approved and funded, he’d worked on the layout, configuring locations for booths and tables, the bar and bar seating, and everything else. He’d researched materials and fixtures.

  It was time for him to get to work. He could lose himself in his work and forget about Saint, forget about that sexy body and beautiful smile, forget about those dark eyes and the way Val could get lost in them.

  An image of Saint at the hospital came to mind and Val paused. He thought about how close Saint’s lips had been to his, how warm his breath had felt, and how if Val had just leaned in—

  “Motherfuck!” Val dropped the hammer and shook his hand. At this rate, he was going to lose his damned thumb. No matter how many times he told himself to pay attention and be careful, he’d end up causing himself some bodily harm. “Get your shit together,” Val growled at himself. “You are not new at this. How are you going to finish this place if you can’t even hammer a fucking nail into the wall?”

  Of course, his brain promptly came back with a different type of nailing. For fuck’s sake! It was like he was a horny teenager.

  “This has to stop,” he told himself. “You need to stop thinking about him, his mouth, his ass, his everything. Enough.” He picked up the hammer. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Tavern. Work.” Maybe he should call Saint, check up on him? He’d told Ryden to give Saint his number in case he needed something. It’s not like he couldn’t just be a good friend and call to see how his friend was doing. Maybe a text, and—Oh fuck, that hurt!

  “Fuck this.” Val tossed the hammer onto the table. “Okay, so today’s a bust. We can just pick up where we left off tomorrow.” He frowned. He’d probably be thinking about Saint tomorrow. “No. Nope. You know what you need? Other than to stop talking to yourself? You need to get laid. That’s what you need.” That’s what he’d do. Go to Sapphire Sands, hook up with someone, get all this pent-up need out in one of the back rooms, and get back to work.

  Leaving the tavern, he headed back home to take a shower and get dressed in something a little more appropriate. He called Frank on the way to the club to let him know he was coming. This was good. Tonight, the club would be packed as hell with single men looking to have a hot time. Val could let go of some steam in the one place he knew Saint wouldn’t be. Don’t think about Saint and stay away. That’s all he had to do.

  So much for staying away.

  When Val had first met Saint, he never expected that he’d be hung up on him all this time later. It had him at a loss. He’d never taken this long to move on from a guy. At first, his looks had gotten Val’s attention, but he hadn’t thought much of it.

  Saint had seemed so serious, barely speaking while on the job. And then Val had been invited to a party celebrating the unveiling of Gio’s new K9 charity. That night, he’d quickly learned there was a whole other side to Saint. When Saint wasn’t on assignment, he laughed, joked, and teased. He danced, got hilariously tipsy, and could be painfully adorable. Val had been captivated. He’d also had a fun night with Saint at that party. It had been Val’s first hint that perhaps Saint wasn’t straight.

  What the hell was Saint doing at Sapphire Sands? As if the guy wasn’t already monopolizing Val’s thoughts. Now there were visuals. Very hot, sexy visuals. Saint wearing his tight Four Kings Security uniform was a mouthwatering sight, but seeing him dressed the way he was tonight was enough to make Val sweat.

  Before tonight, it had been easy for Val to focus his attention elsewhere because Saint had always been here in a professional capacity. He wasn’t out on the dance floor looking like a wet dream, his pants hugging him oh so beautifully in all the right spots, his shirt accentuating his slender waist, broad chest and wide shoulders, and those arms….

  No matter how hard he tried, Val couldn’t keep his eyes off Saint or the sinful way he moved his sleek, muscular body, his breathtaking smile lighting up the room. It was genuine and drew in the men around him. Saint didn’t seem to think anything of it as he laughed at something some guy said in his ear. If he felt any discomfort from the sweaty men pressed up against him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked like he was having a good time.

  For fuck’s sake. Why the hell was Val doing this to himself? Sure, he could leave, but he wasn’t going to because he was too old for this lovesick puppy bullshit. He’d made a career of standing his ground; he wasn’t about to change that now because of one guy, no matter how sexy or sweet he was. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Saint was not the only sexy guy around. Hell, this club was full of them.

  “Why do you look like you ate something foul?” Frank asked as he slipped into the barstool to Val’s right.

  “Just giving myself a good talking to.”

  When Frank arched an eyebrow in question, Val motioned over to the dance floor. Locating the source of Val’s displeasure, Frank shook his head, amused.

  “In all the years I’ve known your miserable ass, I’ve never seen you so obsessed over a guy.”

  “What? Fuck off. I’m not obsessed. Also, I’m not miserable.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot this is what you always look like. Whatever this is.” Frank waved a hand in Val’s general vicinity. “It’s not the look of a man who’s moved on, and considering how damned stubborn you are, it’s not because you can’t, but you don’t want to.”

  “Whatever,” Val grunted. He took another sip of his beer. The last thing he needed was for Frank to be the voice of reason. What was the world coming to?

  “Now, here’s an idea.”

  Val cast him a sideways glance.

  “No, no. Just hear me out. What if you...just talked to him,” Frank said, looking too damned pleased for his own good as he leaned against the bar.

  “Yeah? And say what? ‘Hey, I know you think you’re straight, but I think my penis could change that.’”

  Frank barked out a laugh. He shook his head. “Why not? Maybe it’ll work.”

  Val took another sip of his drink. “Doesn’t matter. Even if he’s not straight, there’s plenty of reasons it wouldn’t work.”

  “Like?”

  “He’s too young.”

  “You have a problem with Joshua?”

  “What?” Val was so confused. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I have a problem with your boyfriend?”

  “Because Saint isn’t much older than Joshua, and you’re my age.”

  Shit. Val had forgotten about that. “Yeah, but it’s different. You two just fit.” Joshua had fallen head over heels for Frank from the moment they’d met. He’d then made it his mission to show Frank they were meant for each other.

  “What about King and Leo? Red and Laz?”

  Val peered at Frank. “I’m sensing a pattern here.”

  Frank laughed. “Fuck off. Listen, when it works, it works. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Joshua is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was an asshole for trying to push him away because of my insecurities.”

  “You’re missing one key factor,” Val said.

  “I know you’re not about to say that Saint is straight. Because you and I both know he is not straight. It’s also not his age, so what is it?”

  His friend was right. Val was grasping at straws, thinking up excuses that had nothing to do with the real reason he kept his distance. “I don’t want to be his first.”

  Frank sighed. “I get it. But you need to ask yourself, are you prepared for someone else to be his first?”

  “What?”

  Frank motioned behind Val, and Val couldn’t stop himself from looking. He cursed under his breath while a host of emotions flooded through him. Anger. Concern. Jealousy. Annoyance. Anger again.

  Some guy had his hands—and mouth—all over Saint as he led him toward the heavy black curtains. It wasn’t like Saint didn’t know what went on back there. He’d worked jobs at the club plenty of times and had clients who used the backrooms.

  Jaw clenched, Val turned back to Frank. “Not my problem. He’s a big boy. He can look after himself and make his own decisions.” Though it annoyed the fuck out of him that Saint had found himself a guy who looked to be around Val’s age and who suspiciously resembled Val, just with more salt and pepper. Not that he blamed Saint. The guy was free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  “True,” Frank said. “Though if a friend of mine were not thinking straight—no pun intended—and might be about to do something he’d regret, I would feel obligated to at least say something.”

  Was Saint a friend? Val kept telling himself he was. “The guy did save my life,” Val conceded. It’s not like they’d just met. They’d known each other for years, even if they didn’t spend much time together.

  “That’s right. The least you could do is check on him.”

  Frank wasn’t wrong. Even if nothing happened between them—no, despite nothing happening between them—Val could still be a friend.

  “Fuck it.” Val threw back the shot of whiskey and stood. He might regret this, but it was better than sitting at the bar all night overthinking his life choices.

  The closer he got to the two, the more annoyed he became. Whoever the fuck this guy was, he was all over Saint, though Saint didn’t look uncomfortable. However, he seemed hesitant to let the guy kiss him on the mouth, which told Val all he needed to know.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Val said gruffly, clearly not sorry, as the guy pulled back. “But I need a word with my friend.”

  The guy looked him over, then met his gaze, eyes narrowed. “He’s busy.”

  Val turned to Saint and waited.

  With a sigh, Saint gently pulled out of the guy’s embrace and stepped back. His smile was apologetic.

  “Sorry, Vic.”

  Vic? For fuck’s sake.

  Jaw clenched, Vic stormed off, and Val grabbed Saint by the arm, dragging him through the black curtains and into the first empty side room. He wasn’t about to have this conversation out in public.

  Closing the door, he turned, only for Saint to put a hand on Val’s chest and push him back against the closed door. His pupils were dilated, and he looked a little out of breath.

  “What are you doing?” Val asked, aggravated.

  “I don’t know. You’re the one who brought me back here.” Saint stepped closer, his eyes dropping to Val’s mouth. “Thought maybe you were finally making a move.”

  The only move Val was making was moving Saint’s hand off his chest. He ignored the spark that shot through him when he touched Saint. “I brought you back here to talk some sense into you.”

  Saint hummed. “Sure. Talk.” He stepped closer and slipped his hand around Val’s neck. “I can think of something we could do that’s much better than talking, Chief.”

  “I’m not doing this,” Val warned, despite the shiver that went through him at the nickname. He’d been called that for years, but coming from Saint, the way his voice went low, practically dripping with sex, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and his pants suddenly got tighter. No. Nope. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do this.

  “Not doing what?”

  “Whatever it is you think is going to happen in here. Especially not like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “With you drunk.”

  Saint’s lips quirked in the corners as he caressed Val’s skin with his thumb. “I had one beer. I’m not even buzzed. Admit it. You want me.”

  “I think you know damned well I want you.” As if that was ever in question.

  “So what’s the problem, Chief?” He moved in to kiss Val, and Val put a hand up to stop him. Was he serious? How had they even gotten here? Then again, Saint had asked Val to kiss him in the hospital, and yeah, he’d been out of it, but that only meant Saint had been thinking about it long before then.

  “Really? You don’t see a problem with going from Straight Guy to getting fucked in the back of a club?” His words clearly burst Saint’s bubble, and he blinked at Val.

  “I wasn’t going to let him fuck me.”

  “Suck your dick?”

  Saint opened his mouth, then closed it, his face flushed.

  “What exactly did you think was going to happen back here?”

  “I don’t know. I just…I wanted some answers.” Saint took a step back and dropped his arms to his sides.

  “And that’s how you’re going to get them? With some stranger in a club? Did you think Vic was going to give you the answers you’re looking for?”

  “Well, if the guy I want won’t give me answers, then I have to get them from someone else, don’t I?” Saint said, belligerent as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Wait, how was he the bad guy in this? “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m trying to help you, and you’re being an asshole?”

  “I’m being an asshole? You want me, but you won’t do anything about it.”

  “Because I won’t be your experiment.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Patience.

  This was all new to Saint. And maybe the only way Saint would get the answers he was looking for was to find them with someone, but Val couldn’t be that someone, which meant Frank was right. Val had to come to terms with the fact that Saint wasn’t meant for him.