Looking for Trouble(58)

He turned from Troy and noticed Renée, Clay’s ex, standing there.

“You’re a brave, brave man trying to get Clay to a bar.” She chuckled.

“He doesn’t like to go?”

“No. Well, I guess I can’t say that. He never liked going with me in the past, but he could have changed. Or maybe we just weren’t going to the right bars back then.”

“We met at one—the first night.”

She smiled, and he could tell it was genuine. “I’m sure it’ll be different going with you than it was with me. Anyway, I see you’re off. I just came to grab a drink, so I’ll let you go.”

Dylan nodded as he went to the back to clock out and take his apron off. He knew Renée hadn’t meant anything by it, but he hated the fact that she knew things about Clay he didn’t. It was obviously a fact of life, but a shitty one.

When he went back through the dining room, Renée had just gotten her drink. He held the door open for her, and she thanked him.

“I owe you an apology. I think I made myself sound really bad back there, and I didn’t mean to. It’s just funny, thinking of Clay in a bar or a club like that, but he cares about you, so I know he’ll want to go with you.” She patted his hand.

“Thanks.”

“I have to admit, it wasn’t an accident that I came in here. We just had lunch.”

“I know. He told me.”

They sat down at one of the tables beside the cobblestone walkway.

“He’s happy. It’s good to see him this way. I wasn’t sure if it would ever happen for him again. We’ve only met once, so I was being the nosy ex-wife and checking you out. Not my fondest moment.”

Dylan laughed because he got it. He would be the same way. “No worries there. I’d be doing the same thing.”

She smiled. “Thank God. I didn’t want to be a bitch on my own.” She took a drink of her coffee and said, “I know I’m continuing with my bitchiness here. It’s none of my business, but do you love him?”

“I do,” he answered instantly.

“Good,” Renée replied. “He loves you too. I told him to go for it the first time I met you, because he deserves to have someone. I guess I didn’t see it going where it did.”

He frowned.

“No, no. I don’t mean that negatively. Like I said, I’m glad. I want Clay to be happy, and he deserves to have love again. But let’s look at this realistically—you’re very young…and his heart’s been broken more than any heart should.”

“What does my age have to do with it?” Restless frustration burned through him.

“Nothing…you’re right. I just wanted to make sure you were as serious about him as he is you.”

“And I can’t be because I’m twenty-five?” He knew she had Clay’s best interests at heart, but he couldn’t help but be defensive.

“Shit. I really am being a bitch, but unintentionally. I loved him when I was your age.”

“Is it because we’re twenty years apart?”

She shook her head. “No. You should ignore me. This isn’t my place, and I don’t say anything to be cruel. I should have kept my mouth shut. Clay’s happy. He loves you. You love him. I was being protective of him when I shouldn’t have been. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d survive losing Gordon, and as much as he loved him, his eyes didn’t light up the way they do when he talks about you.”

Okay…well, that made this conversation a little better. “I would never hurt him. You don’t have to worry about me. But I might not be as nice next time you approach me like this.”

Renée’s head dropped back, and she laughed. “Oh, I like you. And you’re exactly right. I’m keeping my mouth shut, and if I don’t, you give me hell.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before Dylan left. Clay wasn’t at his tattoo parlor, so Dylan went home. Clay’s truck was there, but he wasn’t in the house, so Dylan knew he must be welding.

A part of him was still pissed at what Renée had said, even though he understood it too. She was trying to protect Clay, but now his brain was going a million miles a minute, obsessing about what she said and wondering how Clay would feel if he knew about their talk and even about the damn bar with Troy. He wanted to go. He fucking loved going out. Not every night, but once in a while. What if that became something weird with them? What if Clay never wanted to go out? He knew Clay wouldn’t care if Dylan went on his own, but he wanted them to go together.

Then he reminded himself again that they met at a damn bar in Raleigh, and he felt better.

Still, he needed something to take his mind off it, so he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tee and sat at his sewing table.

He resumed working on a new pair of trunks he wanted Clay to wear. He couldn’t wait to see Clay’s ass and bulge in them. He always wore boxer-briefs that were a little longer. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Clay looked hot as fuck in them, because he did, but he knew Clay would look hot as fuck in trunks as well. No one had ever worn his underwear except him, and the thought of making a pair with someone in mind was both freeing and scary as hell.

He turned on the music on his phone and lost himself in his work.