Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(6)

“Not true. Look at the responsibilities you’ve taken on here. You’re doing incredible.”

Visibly uncomfortable with the praise, his brother waved him off. “You’re putting a lot of energy into Marcus. You know?” Panic danced across his features. “I see what’s happening. Last time—”

“I know what happened last time.” And he couldn’t handle hearing it out loud. Still. Maybe ever. “Rory. Come on, Marcus is just the asshat we put up with three months out of the year.” Saying those words left a taste of acid on his tongue and he had to pause. “What happened six years ago will never happen again. You have to trust me.”

“I do.” A tight smile spread across Rory’s face. “I do, man. You want me to ask Olive to go play some Buckley?”

“What are future sister-in-laws for?”

A few minutes later, Buckley’s voice crooned over the speakers, and despite the song’s darkly depressing meaning, not one tear was shed. Marcus caught his eye over the mass of bar patrons and made a jerk off motion in the air. Jamie feigned offense while pouring another drink. They both laughed—and it was too easy. Way too easy and dangerous to start having fun with Marcus when he was also nursing a low key attraction.

Low key. Sure.

The prick swaggered into the Hut every morning in gray sweatpants and no shirt, his free-balling cock swinging around in the right leg of his pants. He was loud, rude, unpolished and didn’t know Kerouac from karaoke. And yet, Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if Marcus would pay as much attention to him in bed as he did out of bed.

Right. Like I’d let something happen to you.

Marcus’s words drifted back from their walkie-talkie conversation earlier that day and an unwelcome warmth spread in Jamie’s middle. What would it be like if that protectiveness wrapped around him in the dark? Pressed the front of his body down, down into the mattress? What if he was the one who helped Marcus solve the mystery of what he really needed? If it wasn’t Jamie, it could be someone else.

A heavy weight dropped in his stomach, causing a hitch in his step while striding from one end of the bar to the other. Rory and Andrew raised their eyebrows at him.

“Baby One More Time” pumped over the loudspeaker and Jamie cursed, returning from his pointless thoughts.

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew groaned up at the ceiling.

Rory laughed, but there was still a line between his younger brother’s brow, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Marcus and Jamie. He was worried.

Should Rory be worried?

Should Jamie?

Yeah. They should both be concerned—and admitting the situation had gotten this far was a cold bucket of water being poured over the top of Jamie’s head.

Before Jamie could question why it felt so wrong, he leaned against the bar in front of the man in the fitted gray T-shirt with salt and pepper hair. The one who’d been not-so-subtly checking him out all night. “Hey,” Jamie said. “Either ask me out or quit being creepy.”

The man paused mid-sip of his gin and ginger. “Uh. Let’s go out?”

Jamie took out his cell phone, punched in the security code and slid it across the bar. “Leave your number and I’ll think about it.”

Usually, Jamie took a lot of satisfaction catching men off guard. Or impressing them. Tonight he only encountered the smallest iota of gratification—and even that disappeared into the wind when Jamie looked over the man’s shoulder to find Marcus watching the scene unfold, resembling a giant golden retriever who’d been kicked by his owner. It took every ounce of Jamie’s willpower not to snatch the phone back before the man finished programming in his number.

“It’s under Kurt.”

“Great.” Jamie’s smile was tight as he took his phone back and left the guy looking flustered. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.”

Jamie couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the night. He was way too aware of Marcus in the room. Where he stood, how irritable he looked. The worst part was knowing why he was perturbed, when even Marcus didn’t know the cause himself.

Nothing I can do about it.

It wasn’t until the end of the night that Jamie realized he’d forgotten all about the bet.

Marcus clearly hadn’t. As he passed Jamie on his way out the door, he stopped and turned, looking uncomfortable. Like he didn’t know how to act now.

“It’s uh…Monster Jam. A monster truck rally. That’s where I was going to make you go tomorrow, but…” He crossed his arms over his big chest, obviously trying his best to sound casual. “Don’t worry about it, though. It was just a stupid idea. My brother bought tickets and had to back out. I can just sell them.”

Ten tons of bricks pressed down on Jamie’s chest. “You don’t want to go anymore?” He didn’t want to hear Marcus say no. He physically didn’t think he’d be able to stand it. What was wrong with him? “You won the damn bet. We’re going.”

Jesus. He’d had his way out. And he’d bypassed it.

“Really?”

Jamie sighed. “Yes.”

Marcus seemed taller all of a sudden as he backed out the front entrance of the Castle Gate, the Long Beach boardwalk lit up behind him. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Jamie.”