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“Sure.”
As soon as Eight disappeared into the house, Sel’s eyes landed on Indio, who was standing there, staring at him with that smug smile. “Well, what the hell?”
“He called you smart. That’s something,” Binx said. “Now, who else around here is hot, gay, and available?”
Mal asked, “Why?”
“We’re going to have Sel do some flirting and see what jealousy Indio has in him.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Binx! You don’t play those kinds of games with guys like that, for one, and for another I don’t even like him!”
Mal waved him on as he explained, “I did it to Kirk when he tried to break up with me. He was going to prison, and didn't want me waiting around for him. Yeah, the poor guy almost died, but it worked. I’m with Binx.”
Before Sel could argue against it again, Ruben was on board with them. “There are a couple of hot ranch hands that are gay. Sam Hill Rustin, he’s funny, cute, a great hand, does rodeo…”
“Rodeo, mmm, sexy,” Prince said. “Chaps?”
“Yeah, chaps and all,” Ruben purred.
“Excuse me! Don’t I get a say in this?”
Prince patted his leg. “Honey, you’re younger than all of us, so respect your elders. You’re not the don yet, so you have to do what we say. At least until you can rightfully shoot us.”
Sel sat back while the group planned, unable to close his mouth as he stared at them in awe.
When lunchtime came, they went to help Binx cook, and wouldn’t let him come along. Binx explained, “Sit out here a while longer. We need to discuss some things that don’t concern you.”
“Excuse me? You mean you’re going to talk about me.”
“Of course!”
Sel was still laughing as the screen door slammed and they were all inside, leaving him alone on the porch. That was when Indio started slowly up the stairs. His eyes narrowed, but his full, dark lips pulled up at the corners. “Your friends already ditching you? What will you do without your entourage?”
“This coming from a guy who runs around with a pack of other guys that ride bikes. You’re such a lone wolf.”
“The difference is, we don’t sit around giggling and drinking tea.”
“Oh, I’m impressed. Guzzling beer and talking about pussy is the more manly thing to do, right?”
Not a word passed his lips, but he didn’t need to speak. His eyes were set on Sel like they were cemented there. Sel moved to him after slowly rising from the rattan couch, taking cool, gliding steps.
As he invaded the man’s space, he spat, “What is your problem with me?”
“I don’t like spoiled rich boys that think they have some power over me.”
So much was said with that one statement that Sel knew how insecure Indio really was. “You’re about to be the president of a bike club, right? No one will have power over you.”
“Still taking orders from a fucking mob boss, and that’ll be you one day. Unless you are too scared to take the family business and you sit in some penthouse, living off your family’s money.”
“Before I ever take control, which is likely going to be twenty years or more, you hate me for having power over you. You’re like a little child, having a tantrum for his daddy giving him a bedtime.”
Indio moved even closer and Sel smelled sweet cigar on his breath, felt the heat of the man’s body. “Watch it, baby. You want to watch that pretty mouth before you get hurt.”
Sel’s entire body lit into a raging fire, and he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or need of the man. That was something he hated, to ever be unsure of his feelings. He decided right then and there it was anger. “Go ahead and hurt me. I’d love to be the one to put you back in your place. That place being far, far below me.”
“Hey,” Eight said from the house before he pushed the screen door open and emerged onto the porch. “Everything okay here?”
“Yeah, Eight,” Indio grunted. “Fine.”
