Locking up the house, we opt to take his truck. As soon as we hit the road, I give Shooter the CliffsNotes version of the history between William and I, starting with our very memorable one-night stand in Seattle.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he mutters when I finish. “You sneaky bastard. Does your dad know?”
Turning my head and staring at him, deadpan, I ask, “What the hell do you think? It was never meant to happen more than the one time, but it just… kind of did.”
Shooter laughs, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. “This is blowing my mind, Bishop. But hey, good for you, my friend. That is one fine-ass doctor, and by the looks of it, he damn well knew what he was doing to you.”
Despite myself, I feel my cheeks flame. I don’t even know why; it’s not like Shooter and I have never talked sex before. We’ve known each other since we were kids, so it’s definitely a topic that’s come up a few dozen times over the years. But something about sexwith Williamfeels different. Personal. Sacred almost. That’s fucking dumb to think.
Clearing my throat, I glance over at Shooter, flash him a sardonic smirk, and say, “Yeah, well, thank to you, it’s probably the last time we’ll be doing that.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” he chuffs.
“He couldn’t even look at me before he left. There’s no way he’ll want a repeat.” William has always been a little flighty, but he seemed pretty agitated when he left, which makes me think he won’t brush it off as easily as I’d like him to. I try to ignore the way that leaves a bad taste on the back of my tongue.
Shooter takes the keys out of the ignition, but doesn’t make any move to get out of the car yet. Turning my head, I find him watching me, an expression on his face I can’t read. It’s unnerving.
“What?”
“You…” His smirk grows as he shifts in his seat, his body facing me. “You have feelings for this guy.”
“What?” I scoff, looking away. “I do not. We’re having sex. That’s all.”
He snorts. “Right, because I believe that.”
“Well, it’s the truth, so…”
“You forget that I, too, was very much in denial about my feelings not that long ago, and I sounded an awful lot like you do right now.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I heave a sigh, reaching for the door handle. “We going to go inside to eat or what?”
Chuckling, Shooter follows my lead, exiting the truck. “Fine, we’ll drop it. For now.”
Spoiler alert:we didn’t drop it. But the sushi was good, so there’s that. Shooter brought me back home about a twenty minutes ago. As soon as I got through the door, I sent a text message to William, and haven’t heard back yet. Granted, he could just not be near his phone or he could be busy, but I think the more likely conclusion is that he’s ignoring me. Or avoiding the message altogether.
And I don’t like that. Don’t like it one bit.
Which is why I’m currently in my truck, driving over to his place like a lunatic who has lost his ever-loving mind. After seeing the look on William’s face when he left earlier, I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I have tofixthis. But why, though? It’s the million-dollar question I haven’t been able to figure out. I’m no stranger to a hookup, but never have they felt like this. This need to get to know William. The need to be near him. To breathe the same air. To make him laugh, make him loosen up a little bit.
Earlier in his car, the way he watched me as I sang along to that song like an idiot… it warmed me, made me feel a way I wasn’t used to. The smile on his face and the way it made the creases on the outside of his eyes deepen. It lit up his whole face, and it was directed at me. I want to make him smile like that more. That thought makes me uneasy, though, because I’ve never wanted something like that. And not even for any good reason. I’ve just always been so focused on rodeo and going pro, that anything else that could’ve potentially stolen my attention, I shut out. It didn’t seem worth it to me. Relationships and feelings and all that shit weren’t even on my radar. So why are they now? Why can’t I shake this fucking feeling I get deep in my chest when I think about William? Why can’t I accept his silence and move on?
What the fuck is it about him?
Pulling into his driveway, I turn my truck off and get out, not giving myself a moment to talk myself out of this. As I glance down at the watch on my wrist, I note it’s a quarter to eight. Bringing my fist up, I knock on the door and wait. And wait. Finally, after about a minute, I hear rustling on the other side before the door is opened. Roger appears in the doorway, dressed in matching pants and shirt wiener dog pajamas.
Okay, that’s fucking cute.
“Well, hi, Colt,” he greets, stepping to the side to let me through. “What brings you here?”
“Is William home?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for being here at all. What good, appropriate reason would I have for showing up unannounced this late at night?
If Roger finds it weird that I’m here, though, he doesn’t show it. “He’s taking Winnie potty. They should be back inside in a minute.” Ushering me farther into the house, he adds, “Come, come. Would you like anything to drink?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
“Will told me about the birthday celebration you guys had for Meg. Sounded like a lot of fun.”
For some reason, I think it’s so sweet knowing that William talks to his father about his day. “It was. What about you? Did you do anything fun today?”
