The Backup Boyfriend

by River Jaymes

  Noah looked unconcerned. “Between the three of us and the six degrees of Kevin Bacon thing, I’m sure there is a famous acquaintance in our midst.”

  Alec tipped his head. “One of Tyler’s exes fits the bill.”

  The snap of Tyler’s gaze to Alec spoke volumes, and guilt stabbed him.

  Never one to let the chance for a well-aimed dig slip by, Noah said, “Tyler has a lot of exes, including you.” He popped another Gouda-topped cracker into this mouth. “Which one?”

  Alec bit back the name, considering his options. The look on Tyler’s face made his feelings clear. He didn’t want the stunt man involved. Alec had two choices. He could out Tyler, and watch his ex suffer Noah’s relentless hounding, or he could truly put the past behind him and support his ex. All middle school feelings aside, the time had come to move past the residual resentment and anger.

  “No one special,” Alec said, avoiding Noah’s eyes. The need to lie made the words feel pressured. “Just a guy Tyler dated in med school who is now some big wig at Stanford. He went on to host a morning talk show on a small local cable channel.” Shit, now what? His mind spun, searching for something that would make the made-up ex sound unappealing to Noah. “He’s…uh, super smart and probably knows more about the rates of sexually transmitted diseases in this county than anyone else.”

  Noah stared at Alec for a moment before responding. “Are you on drugs? We need sex appeal,” Noah went on. “Not a STD expert.” Noah shook his head in defeat. “Never mind. I’ll find someone myself.”

  Relieved, Alec quietly blew out a breath. His stomach grumbled, and he tried hard not to think of the Chinese food waiting at home and Dylan, naked, in the shower…

  Distracted, Alec reached out to slice a piece of cheese— “Hey!”

  Noah gripped Alec’s wrist, and Alec almost dropped the knife.

  “For chrissakes, Alec,” Noah said, staring down at the faint bruises on Alec’s skin.

  Fuck.

  Time ticked by in painful increments. Alec waited a moment before releasing the knife and pulling his arm from Noah’s grasp. Face burning, he tugged his sleeve down to cover the marks while the two men stared at him.

  Noah looked shocked, but Tyler was studying him as if seeing Alec in a new light.

  Tyler had been serious when he’d claimed Alec didn’t have a sex swing. Their sexual relationship had been satisfying, but nothing like the headboard-banging, mind-melting ride with Dylan.

  Alec knew Dylan had only been kidding in his earlier text—ninety percent sure anyway. But their sex life had left Alec feeling high for days. Dylan couldn’t seem to decide which he liked more, being the top or the bottom. So far he’d exerted a considerable amount of energy testing the two positions while trying to make up his mind, with Alec happily encouraging the comparison process.

  “Are you and Dylan a thing now?” Noah asked.

  The answer rolled easily off Alec’s tongue. “That’s none of your business.”

  Two seconds later, Noah turned to Tyler. “Will you grab the second package of crackers on the counter in the kitchen?”

  No one commented on Noah’s request for more birdseed. After a last glance in Alec’s direction, Tyler silently headed into the kitchen.

  Noah turned to Alec. “Has Dylan decided he’s bisexual?”

  The question shot through Alec’s brain and ricocheted around his skull, and he glanced at the kitchen doorway. For reasons he couldn’t explain, especially to himself, he didn’t want Tyler to know the truth just yet. Mostly because he wouldn’t survive another person giving him shit about his choices. Noah’s doubts were bad enough, and Alec’s were tenuously held at bay by the sexual fog Dylan induced.

  But Alec had made a decision.

  “I’m not just the hand, Noah,” Alec said.

  As soon as he’d spoken the words, Alec sat up higher in his seat. Noah’s original claim that Dylan had only slept with Alec out of convenience still burned in ways Alec hadn’t recovered from.

  Noah looked confused, so Alec went on. “I’m not just the most accessible means for Dylan to get off,” Alec said. “He is attracted to me.”

  Alec felt that simple truth in Dylan’s every glance. He didn’t have to touch Alec or say anything suggestive because every time Dylan looked at him there was no doubt the man felt the same pull. It was The Look from that first night at Danny’s Suds and Sports. The attraction had most definitely been mutual then. Dylan had just needed a little time to sort the realization out.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Noah said. But before Alec could celebrate his victory, Noah’s voice dropped an octave. “But I’m not sure that protects you much, Alec.”

  Shit. Noah always went for the jugular.

  Alec fought the need to close his eyes and ignored the misgivings howling in his brain.

  He shoved his hair back from his face. “Look, I hear what you’re saying,” Alec said. The more of Dylan he unraveled, the bigger the remaining puzzle pieces grew. “I won’t argue with you about the risks. But—”

  Tyler reentered the living room and set the second package of crackers on the coffee table. Alec went on, despite his ex’s presence.

  “Right now I’m choosing to be with Dylan.” Alec steadily met Noah’s gaze, refusing to look away first. “And I don’t need any more lectures from you.”

  Alec sent his friend a small smile to ease the sharp edge to his words.

  With a sigh that bordered on melodramatic, Noah reached for the cheese board. “Fine,” he said, slicing a piece of Gouda. “But when it all goes to hell in an overpriced messenger bag, I’m going to find new and creative ways to say I-told-you-so. On a daily basis. For the rest of your life.”

  Noah’s gaze remained firm. “Which means every morning you’ll be subjected to a wakeup call from me as I deliver a long-winded reminder of why you should follow your friends’ advice.”

  “Another good reason to have Noah’s number blocked,” Tyler said.

  Alec shot his ex a small smile, grateful for the loss of hostility and what appeared to be a return to their supportive, collegial relationship. With any luck they could relearn how to be friends. Standing firm in the face of Noah’s well-intentioned meddling felt like a major accomplishment too.

  Alec had no idea how long Dylan would continue with a status quo that consisted of easy companionship, great sex, and zero talk about what the situation meant.

  For now, Alec intended to sit back and let Dylan set the pace.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’ll never find another one like her, Mr. Booth.”

  Standing on the driveway, Dylan kept his eyes on the Triumph TR5 Trophy and bit back his disagreement with the owner’s claim, acutely aware of Alec’s gaze on his back.

  “Mmm hmm,” Dylan murmured, sure he sounded as unconvinced as he felt.

  Dylan had already taken the bike for a quick spin around the block, and seriously, the girl ran rougher than some of the neighborhoods Dylan had grown up in. Weird to now be standing with Alec in front of a middle-class home located in middle-class suburbia, the warm breeze smelling of freshly cut grass. A place so squeaky clean and sweet the sight made Dylan slightly sick to his stomach, like he’d overdosed on cotton candy and been sentenced to Stepford neighborhood hell.

  “Why are you selling her?” Dylan asked.

  “Between my new job and the family, I don’t have much time for riding anymore,” the owner answered.

  The twenty-something man bouncing a drooling, barefoot baby in his arms was watching Dylan eagerly, clearly committed to making the sale. Dylan was inspecting the bike. And Alec…

  Well, Alec appeared to be checking Dylan out.

  The heat crawling up Dylan’s back and sweat dotting his neck had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun and everything to do with that appreciative gaze. To cover his partial hard-on, he knelt to study the front tire.

  Today’s plan appeared to be working. Alec always looked turned on whenever Dy
lan and motorcycles got within ten yards of each other. Dylan figured the bike that James Dean drove would add some extra sex appeal.

  A couple of days ago, Dylan had been kneeling in Alec’s garage, fixing the clutch on the Ducati, when Alec had come home from work. The flash of lust in Alec’s expression would have brought Dylan to his knees if he hadn’t been there already. But Dylan’s grease-stained hands and sweaty T-shirt must have been more than Alec could stomach. The man had headed directly into the kitchen to make dinner.

  Undaunted, Dylan had dragged Alec along today. He hoped to generate a little more of that motorcycle-induced lust because, two weeks after they’d first landed back in bed together, Dylan had only one complaint.

  Why did he always have to instigate the touching first?

  Dylan hated the thoughts now plaguing his brain, like maybe Alec didn’t want him as much as he wanted Alec. Or maybe the sex wasn’t as good as Dylan thought. But, damn it, he knew better. Alec might not start their marathon sessions, but he damn well enjoyed them. It seemed more likely that Dylan represented a convenient source of sex until Alec got over his ex.

  Crap. Where had that thought come from? As Alec and the owner chatted behind him, Dylan squeezed the tire in frustration, a lame-ass attempt to pretend to check the pressure.

  In the beginning the situation hadn’t bothered him because he was still busy adjusting to the concept of sleeping with the same person for more than two nights in a row. And he wasn’t even gonna touch on the fact that the person was a dude.

  He wanted Alec, case closed. He wanted Alec on him, under him, or any other way he could have him. Dylan refused to waste time wringing his hands and weeping in his morning coffee or moaning why, like a teen who turns everything into an emotional nuclear event.

  So he’d moved on to the more pressing concern of Alec’s behavior.

  Dylan believed Alec’s assertiveness the night of Noah’s party had either been an anomaly due to alcohol or something was holding Alec back in bed, a fact Dylan hadn’t been able to overcome by trying new positions and unusual ways to make Alec come.

  Except for blowjobs. Dylan couldn’t stomach the thought of sucking a guy off, a dick in his mouth. Not again.

  Fuck.

  Dylan closed his eyes and fought the memory of a bruising grip on his head, the brick alley wall pressing against his back as he choked, unable to escape. Unable to breathe. Drowning. Drowning…

  With herculean effort, Dylan sucked in a lungful of oxygen.

  That was years ago. Quit being such a pansy-assed wuss.

  Concentrate. Just…concentrate. Overpriced bike. Sale. Alec. Baby drool.

  Struggling to control his rapid breathing, Dylan fingered the worn tread on the tire and forced himself to take stock of the Triumph’s condition. Due to the rust, the frame required sanding, and a new paintjob ought to be a priority. The headlight needed replacing, but that was an easy fix—

  “You want to take her for a longer ride?” the owner asked.

  Jesus, couldn’t the man see Dylan was in the middle of talking himself back from the ledge?

  “Looks like she hasn’t been ridden much lately,” Dylan said, willing himself to friggin’ calm down and wiping black grease on his shirt. And then he looked at his arms, realizing they were smeared with oil from when he’d checked the level on the Triumph.

  Damn, he was a mess again. This wasn’t the lead up to sexy times Dylan had been hoping for.

  “It’s hard to get away with a toddler and a four-month-old in the house,” the owner said.

  Dylan’s concentration didn’t break as he stood, his eyes roaming the bike. Overpriced, but still salvageable. “She’s a beauty.”

  “Thanks. Her name is Chloe.”

  “Uh…” Dylan lifted his gaze to the infant. “Yeah, her too.”

  The proud father glanced down at the baby, who was attempting to shove her entire fist into her mouth. The drool now made an impressive trail down her arm.

  “The bike comes with the original owner’s manual,” the man said. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  He held out his daughter in Dylan’s direction, and Dylan’s oh-hell-no expression obviously didn’t register with the dad. Stunned, Dylan automatically gripped the baby under the arms, Chloe dangling like a puppy in a toddler’s grasp as she stared up at Dylan with wide, blue eyes and a river of drool.

  Whoa. Nothing like a baby to kill those sexy thoughts. And what about his plans for Alec? Dylan had already accumulated enough grease and sweat to turn Alec off. Now he’d added saliva to boot.

  Alec’s lips twisted in suppressed humor as he stepped forward to, thank God, rescue Dylan by scooping up the infant.

  “I’ll hold her.” Alec settled Chloe expertly into the crook of his elbow.

  Dylan would have kissed the man if his arms hadn’t been full of a slobbery infant.

  The father fumbled to unlatch the saddlebag, yet another item that didn’t function right. Dylan stared at a well-dressed, clean Alec holding the baby with a sizeable line of drool now hanging from her mouth, dangling in the air. Seriously, someone needed to shut the main water line off and fix that horrific leakage problem.

  But Alec? He seemed totally unconcerned. In truth, he appeared content, for lack of a better word. And right after Dylan sent a frustrated look at the mood-killer of a tiny human with massive blue eyes, Dylan’s mind registered just how natural Alec looked holding the baby. Clearly, somewhere in the acquisition of all those letters after his name—BS, MD, MPH—Alec had actually spent time handling kids.

  The scene was kinda cute. Almost…adorable.

  Dylan blinked, the word rolling around in his head. Adorable. Adorable? Shit, next he’d be buying a fucking minivan.

  “I also have the maintenance record and two spare keys,” the owner said.

  The man finally pulled out the manual and tried to pass it to Dylan. But Dylan couldn’t focus, too caught up in just how far his thoughts had wandered from getting Alec to jump him.

  “Impressive,” Alec said to the owner, discreetly shooting Dylan a get-with-the-program look.

  Dylan cleared his throat and took the manual. “Yeah. Impressive.” He flipped through the pages of instructions, not seeing a thing. “Cool that you still have the original. Too bad you have to let her go,” he said, returning the handbook to the saddlebag.

  “I don’t mind. Besides, I could use the extra money,” the man said.

  “Well, she’s a sweet ride.” Or she could be, with a lot of work. “But I’ve got a couple more I want to check out before I make any decisions.”

  “No problem,” the man said, taking his daughter back from Alec. “Just give me a call if you decide it’s the one for you.”

  “You bet,” Dylan said.

  Dylan headed up the driveway toward his motorcycle parked on the street. Alec followed along, his car parked just behind Dylan’s bike. Because of the timing and the location in relation to Alec’s work, they’d had to meet here instead of riding together. Fate was a bitch, and she’d been determined to screw up Dylan’s plan to tempt Alec into seducing him.

  And, Jesus, he’d never recover from the brief thought that Alec holding a baby was cute.

  “That was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, man,” Dylan said to Alec.

  Alec raised a brow in question.

  “Baby slobber,” Dylan said.

  Alec grinned as they parted, and he rounded his car before stopping at the door. “This coming from the man covered in grease.”

  Dylan mentally winced. So, yeah, Alec found the mess a total turn-off. “But that’s not nearly as gross,” Dylan said in protest. He covered the awkward feeling with a teasing grin. “And now we got that slobber on our hands.”

  “Do I have to shower before you’ll touch me?”

  Dylan’s heart stopped in his chest. Maybe he could salvage this outing yet. He’d have to, cuz right now he itched to be climbing into the car. Dylan hated that he couldn’t get his hands on Alec du
ring the trip back. Nothing Dylan could do about that now though, especially while covered in grease and sweat and baby drool.

  Brilliant. Derailed by a 1955 Triumph and a malfunctioning four-month-old.

  “No. But you gotta at least wash your hands first. Or…” Dylan tossed Alec a wicked smile as he headed toward his bike. “I’ll be happy to touch you in the shower.”

  Alec chuckled, and Dylan threw his leg over his motorcycle. Tonight Alec’s Harley would just have to do as a replacement to the Triumph. The new saddlebags for Alec’s bike had arrived several days ago, which provided the perfect excuse.

  Eager to get back to Alec’s house and salvage his plan, he looked back at Alec. “I need to pick up the Allen wrenches at my house so we can replace the bags on your bike.”

  Alec’s hand paused on the door handle. “You want me to follow you there?”

  The words not necessary formed on Dylan’s lips, but he bit them back. He’d fallen into the comfortable routine of spending about three out of every four nights at Alec’s place. Not once had Dylan invited Alec to his home. Of course, Alec’s house was a hell of a lot nicer than Dylan’s apartment, so the setup only made sense.

  But maybe Alec would loosen up a little after seeing where Dylan lived. It wasn’t like viewing his apartment meant they were attached at the hip or something stupid like that. Of course, other than their discussion about Rick the night of the poker run, the conversations had been kept well away from anything personal. Oh, there’d been some indirect attempts for sure, but Alec’s subtle tries to gain more information had been ignored by Dylan.

  Taking a shower was easy. Changing clothes? A no-brainer. Cracking open his chest so more of the crap he kept inside could spill out? Oh, hell no.

  But Alec had asked and refusing would be rude, even for Dylan.

  “Sure.” Dylan let the dregs of his resistance go. “I’ll be careful not to lose you.”

  The crinkles around Alec’s eyes were reassuring. “As if you could.”

  Twenty minutes later they pulled into the driveway of his landlord’s well-kept home of concrete block and stucco, the white offset by blue shutters. Brightly colored flowers lined the front walkway, and trees dotted the front yard. Dylan found the scene soothing, despite the fact the main housed looked as if fucking Mary Poppins was about to land on the roof.