Page 49 of Pieces of Me

Pete propped his hands on his hips, and Scott let his gaze drift over him appreciatively. He hadn’t put his street clothes on over his thong yet, and when Pete caught him looking, he reached down and cupped himself, pulling the front of the underwear down a little to show Scott a mouthwatering glimpse of his thick cock.

Scott gave him a mock sneer. “Quit teasing me, bitch,” he growled, and Pete grinned at him, grabbing up a pair of jeans and stepping into them. While he dressed, Scott got busy packing the unsold T-shirts, underwear, and baseball caps into a plastic bin, and when it was full, placing the bin on a rolling cart.

“Ready to go?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Pete pushed the dolly of totes along in front of him while Scott carried the money bag and some of the other club promotional material. When they reached Pete’s truck, Scott helped him load everything in, tossing Pete a bottle of water from the cooler in the back and taking one for himself. “Want to meet me at the gym in an hour?”

Pete shrugged. “Thought maybe I’d hike the Peak instead. Lots of hotties there last time, all big tits and tiny shorts.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Scott snorted.

“Save a blonde for me, or better yet, bring her to the club tonight. It always pisses Lance off when I hook up with a chick. He calls me ‘greedy.’”

“In that case, I’ll bring two,” Pete said drily, making no secret of his lack of regard for Lance and his biphobia.

“You do that.” They bumped knuckles, Pete driving off with a wave, and Scott climbed in his own car, powering down the convertible top and thinking over his schedule for the rest of the day. Pride booth, check. Now he needed to hit the gym and he probably had time to fit in a quick tanning session before he was due at the club. Ugh. What he really wanted to do was go home and sprawl in front of the TV for a few hours and then go to sleep. But it was Pride season, Scott was getting paid to walk around in underwear tonight, and he’d better fucking look good doing it. Gym it was.

Scott slipped some sunglasses on and drove out of the park, pulling onto Third Avenue. Traffic was heavy, so he wasn’t going all that fast when he glimpsed something shimmering on the sidewalk from the corner of his eye. He idly turned his head to see what it was and almost spit out the sip of water he’d just taken. Holy shit!

The first thing Scott noticed was that the ass was impressive, high, firm cheeks lifted and defined even more by the skintight hot pants the guy was wearing. He was lean, with long legs and cute little dimples in the small of his back that winked at Scott with every step he was taking.

As Scott crawled past him in the flow of traffic, he could hear a few horns honking around him, some derogatory shouts. What the fuck was this guy thinking, leaving the Pride grounds dressed like that? Scott glanced in his rearview mirror and didn’t see anyone with him; he was striding down the street alone. The dude was either fucking stupid or had a serious death wish.

Scott shook his head in bemusement and faced forward again, noticing with relief that the gridlock seemed to be easing up. He accelerated to try and make the light, and as he approached the intersection, he saw a seedy-looking Circle K on the corner with a bunch of men gathered along the edge of the parking lot. They were sitting on the open tailgates of their pickups and drinking beer.

Scott realized in an instant that a few of them were pointing at the guy walking toward them and sneering, and a couple of them stood as if getting ready to confront him. Oh, no. On impulse, Scott whipped his car into the city bus pullout outside the flow of traffic and parked. He flung his door open and stepped out, strolled around the front of his car, and leaned against the passenger side, watching the idiot approach.

The man was staring straight ahead, his shoulders back, his strides purposeful.

“Hey,” Scott called out, and the guy actually sped up to pass him.

“Leave me alone,” he threw over his shoulder. “I’m not bothering you, I’m just trying to get home.”

Scott gave a lazy shrug, and called after him, “Sweetheart, I’m not here to bother you, I’m only here to warn you that walking through that Circle K parking lot is not going to end well.”

At the casual endearment, the man’s gait faltered, and he pivoted as if in slow motion, looking fully at Scott for the first time. Three, two, one, Scott counted to himself, and right on cue, the guy’s mouth dropped open as he got a load of the glory that was Scott Ashworth.

Scott pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and crossed his arms over his chest, his weight canted on one hip, letting the dude look his fill.

“Wha―” the man choked out. “How―uh―”

Well used to this reaction, Scott pasted on his trademark smirk and let his eyes wander over the guy in return. Not bad. Scott couldn’t really see his face because of some stupid hat, but he had a decent-enough body, slender, not ripped at all but still sexy. He was wearing a ridiculous rainbow crop top that allowed full view of his flat stomach and a light trail of hair that arrowed down and drew attention to a rather impressive bulge lovingly molded by gold lamé. It’s always the skinny ones, Scott thought with amusement.

“Scott…Ashworth?” The words came out slightly strangled sounding, and the man’s fists were clenched at his sides.

What? Scott immediately ran through his vast mental catalogue of past boyfriends, fuck buddies, and hookups, and while there was something about this dude that struck Scott as somewhat familiar, he was pretty sure they hadn’t dated; mostly because the guy hadn’t burst into tears and/or taken a swing at him. Yet. He winced. Yeah, his exes were none too fond of him. It was a running joke at the club.

“Do I know you?” Scott asked. He uncrossed his arms, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet in case the other man decided to go psycho on him. It frustrated Scott that he couldn’t see his face, and he said, with a trace of impatience, “Come on, sweetie, you’re looking at me kind of weird and this is getting awkward. Do I know you or not?”

The man reached up and slowly removed his cap before tossing it to the ground. “Yeah, I think you probably do.”

✩✩✩

Scott’s face suffused with utter shock, and his mouth dropped open.

“Ry―Rylan?” he gasped, scrubbing his hands over his eyes and peering at Rylan again from between his fingers. “Seriously? What the hell are you doing here?” The words came out high-pitched and sort of squeaky, and Rylan bit his lip.

“It’s a long story―” he began, grunting when Scott took two steps forward and grabbed him up in a hug so tight he lifted Rylan clear off his feet.