Gambling on Love

by Jane Davitt

  He was also out of condoms and lube—supplies he tended to buy when needed, and at the cabin, he never did. Gary had greeted that piece of information with an incredulous, pitying stare that’d left Abe flustered, though he’d tried to hide it.

  “It’s not sad and pathetic,” he’d protested. “I’d never bring a guy back here to fuck. It’s too far and it’s not my house, remember. There are some valuable paintings here, and I don’t want a pack of strangers tramping through.”

  “I’m here,” Gary had pointed out.

  “That’s different.”

  “And now we’ve got my things here, so I can tell you we’re not out of condoms, because I’m a Boy Scout, so if you want to—”

  “I want to take you out for a drink. It’s Saturday night and the skies have cleared, so I don’t think we’ll get more snow.”

  He wasn’t panicking about letting Gary fuck him, or having second thoughts about anything he’d said, but it wouldn’t hurt Gary to wait.

  Gary had seemed surprised, but willing enough to sample the nightlife. That might change once he saw it, but Abe figured even if Gary had left town before he was old enough to go into the bars, he still had a fair idea of what they were like.

  Gary had dressed down, but his black denim jeans—tight enough to showcase his ass and package—looked too expensive for a local bar. Abe wasn’t sure how denim could look designer, but it did. The plain black T-shirt Gary had paired with the jeans clung like paint to his chest, making his red hair brighter.

  “You’ll be cold.” Why had he thought going out was a good idea? Peeling the tight clothes off Gary and licking every place they’d left marks on his skin was far more appealing than driving on shitty roads to drink overpriced beer.

  Gary had grinned and tugged on hiking boots that had never seen a leaf, much less a trail, if Abe was any judge. “Not with you to keep me warm, cowboy. God, I haven’t worn this outfit in years. Last time I did—”

  “If the story ends with you naked, I don’t want to know.”

  The main roads had been plowed by the time they set out that evening, and Abe’s pickup could handle the side roads that weren’t, so the trip to town was uneventful, if longer than usual. Considering how much shit fate had thrown at them the day before, Abe figured they were due a peaceful trip, though it would be pushing it to hope things continued smoothly. The two of them had a ways to go before they regained the easy friendship of their teenage years.

  They’d driven past Gary’s car, a forlorn snow-blanketed shape. With Gary’s belongings drying out back at the cabin, there was no reason to stop, but Abe had slowed and given Gary an inquiring look. Gary had shaken his head. “Forget it. I’ll have it towed to a wrecker’s. Could be they’ll give me something for the parts. Is Joe Logan still around? He bought cars and broke them down, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. We could try Joe on Monday, I guess.”

  He didn’t think Gary would get more than a couple hundred for it, and a free tow thrown in, but it was a loose end that needed tying up. Gary couldn’t leave the car to rust away.

  The bar they tried first wasn’t somewhere Abe ever went with an eye to getting laid—too close to home. He didn’t want the complication of hooking up with someone he knew. The Silvercreek Bar was gay-friendly—though straight customers were welcome if they weren’t assholes—and because it was the only bar like that for a fair distance, it got pretty busy on a Saturday night. At eight, the parking lot was half-full, but in another hour or so that’d change.

  The hard-packed snow squeaked under Abe’s feet with every step on the way to the front entrance. “I don’t plan on staying long. I want to—”

  “Show me off?”

  He turned to look at Gary. Even with the bulky coat and confident smile, Gary looked fragile, too much of what he’d gone through visible in his eyes. The trouble was, once his coat was hanging up, most of the men in the bar and more than a few of the women wouldn’t be looking at his eyes. They’d be ogling his ass.

  “I know these people, and so do you. They’ll have questions, but the way you’re dressed, they’re not gonna be about what you’ve been up to. If anyone offers to show you where the men’s room’s at, tell them to fuck off.”

  Gary fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand to his heart. “You mean they might have ulterior motives? Abe, I’m shocked.”

  “Laugh it up all you like.” Abe ignored the fact Gary was doing exactly that, quiet chuckles escaping him with every exhaled breath. “I catch anyone’s hand on your butt, accidentally or otherwise, I’ll break every finger they’ve got.”

  Gary came to a dead halt, the amusement gone from his face. “I can take care of myself. And, FYI, the macho act’s not working for me. I’ve had years of being owned more completely than you’ll ever know. I’m not planning to go off with anyone, but that’s my choice, not yours.”

  Abe chewed on his lip, taking in the steel chilling the quiet words. The waiting silence between them dragged on too long before he finally answered. “I hear you. I won’t lie. Seeing you with someone else would sting.”

  “You won’t. Trust me and give me some fucking space.”

  “I can do that.” In theory, anyway. It wasn’t as if Abe wanted to be a control freak, but Gary was the only man in his life who’d ever mattered to him, if close family didn’t count—and for this, it didn’t. Six months ago, he’d watched a guy he’d blown ten minutes before in a bathroom stall leave with another guy and felt not a single twinge, but Gary was his. To have and to hold. Yeah, something like that.

  Gary stepped back to let a couple of guys go in before them, his expression unreadable. “You’d better, because I mean it, Abe. I miss Peter, but I’m not looking for a replacement.”

  Abe went through the doorway and headed straight for the bar after hanging his coat on one of the overflowing hooks by the door. Safe enough to leave it there, with the pockets containing nothing but lint and a handful of change. He was careful what he drank when he was driving, but a single beer, even two, wouldn’t give him more than a mild buzz. The bottle would come in handy, though. He needed something to hold to keep him from picking Gary up and shaking him until the word Peter was jarred loose. He knew his reaction to the name wasn’t reasonable, and that strange as the relationship might sound, Gary was sort of in mourning. That didn’t make it easier to hear.

  At least Gary was beside him when he got to the bar, a silent presence, frowning, the hair on his forearms standing up.

  “Told you you’d be cold.” Abe wore jeans and a dark-green, long-sleeved Henley, snug without showcasing his chest. He hadn’t dressed to attract attention. What was the point? He’d walked in with the only guy he was interested in.

  “I’m fine, just adjusting.” Gary rubbed his arms, a task Abe would’ve done for him if asked. With pursed lips, Gary leaned on the bar, studying what was on tap, which wasn’t much. The barman was making his way over in a desultory fashion, pausing to push a bottle an inch farther back and polish a wet patch off the bar with a towel. To Abe’s amusement, Gary crooked his fingers, not quite snapping them, and the guy put on some speed immediately.

  “Hi, I’m Cody. Chilly out there. What can I get you that’ll warm you up?” The lingering, appreciative look that went with the brisk, rote words was too overt to be taken seriously by anyone old enough to be in the bar, but it annoyed Abe. When the bar got busier, the pickup lines would be dropped, but right now, the kid was trolling for tips and maybe someone to go home with. Any other night, and Abe would’ve been amused, if not tempted.

  Tonight, Abe only wanted Gary. Besides, the bartender hadn’t even glanced his way. Of course, with the cut on his forehead, he didn’t look his best.

  He sized up the barkeep sourly. Early twenties, skinny, with pouty lips and hair four shades lighter than nature had intended. Pure twink, and from his nonlocal accent, he’d probably drifted through in the summer and stuck around when his money ran out. Abe hadn’t seen him before.

&
nbsp; “I’ll stick to beer, thanks.” Gary turned his head and gave Abe a melting look. “Whatever you’re having, honey.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Gary. Funny. Real funny. “Two Moose Drools.” The name made him sigh, but the beer itself, dark and creamy, went down well in the winter.

  To give him his due, Cody poured the beer properly, letting the head build without frothing over the top of the glass. Gary watched him work, making small talk with him about the weather. Abe paid no attention to the chatter, because Gary had hooked his thumb in the back pocket of Abe’s jeans.

  “Want me to start a tab?” Cody asked, his lower lip caught between his teeth while he waited for a reply.

  With the first sip of beer cool in his mouth and Gary’s hand resting on his ass, Abe’s mood was improving by the second. He nodded and managed a smile warm enough to make Cody’s blue eyes light up.

  “He’s too young for you,” Gary murmured when Cody left them to serve another customer. The bartender’s ass was tight and high enough that they both paused to admire it as he walked away.

  “He makes me feel old, that’s for sure,” Abe acknowledged. “Want to get a table?”

  “Sure.” Gary patted Abe’s ass, smiled at him, and glanced around, taking in their surroundings. “God, I haven’t been to somewhere like this in years.”

  “Rustic enough for you?”

  “You bet.”

  The music was loud, the wooden floor scarred with cigarette burns and currently wet with melted snow, but the tables were clean and the upholstered benches in the booths weren’t oozing stuffing. Best of all, Abe could sling his arm around Gary’s shoulders on the walk to an empty booth without risking a beating.

  They sat drinking and chatting about nothing much in particular for an hour, ordering a plate of nachos to share when Gary saw one go by and declared he was starving.

  Licking a blob of sour cream off his finger, his mouth burning pleasantly from the industrial-grade salsa dousing the chips, Abe felt happy in an uncomplicated way. It was a kick in the ass to realize it was the first time in a while. When had he stopped noticing his life sucked? How could he feel easier, lighter than he had in years, with the guy who’d been his first and greatest heartbreak?

  “Another beer?” Gary asked, tapping his finger against Abe’s empty glass.

  “One more, sure.” A waitress spotted them and smiled, heading their way. “Order them while I take a leak?”

  He threaded through the crowd, exchanging a few nods and smiles on the way, but not stopping to talk. He’d seen some curious glances sent Gary’s way and he didn’t want to get involved in awkward conversations. There were a few people in the bar who might remember Gary and want to quiz him about his return.

  The bar wasn’t the kind of place where the stalls were used for sex, unlike certain places Abe frequented, but when he emerged from the restroom, there were two men making out in the hallway, mouths busy, hands roving. Seeing them sent a throb of desire through him, not because of the men themselves, but because of who was waiting for him. He’d be going home with Gary, taking him to bed, learning his body again. It was a dizzying, incredible thought, and he walked down the short hallway and back into the main room with a grin on his face he knew had to look goofy.

  “Hey, you!”

  Abe kept walking, not recognizing the voice and wanting to get back to Gary. When a hand grabbed his arm, he turned and found himself face-to-face with Craig.

  “Hi.” Craig beamed at him, lit up and as cute as he had been the night he and Abe picked each other up. “Remember me?”

  “Sure.” Abe forced a smile. It was jarring to see Craig here, and he scrambled to adjust. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but bumping into a one-night stand when he was out with Gary wasn’t ideal. “I thought you lived north of Missoula. What brings you all the way down here?”

  Craig shrugged, slopping beer from his glass. It splattered Abe’s jeans, but he didn’t step back. “Oops. Sorry. I’m doing a kitchen renovation after a burst pipe disaster, and my boss is putting me and my buddy up in a motel. Says it’s cheaper than driving back and forth, and considering the dump we’re in, I can’t say he’s wrong. So are you visiting too or are you from these parts? You never said.”

  Abe kept his answer vague. “I live a ways out of town.” He had fond memories of Craig’s mouth, so he made his next smile as friendly but final as he could, accompanying it with a squeeze of Craig’s shoulder. “Good to see you again. Take care.”

  When he tried to turn away, Craig frowned, halting him by grabbing a handful of his shirt.

  “Don’t go. Shit, I’m bored out of my skull, and when I get bored, I get horny. My buddy’s not interested, so I’ve been jacking off till my wrist thinks it’s broken. Want to help me out with that?”

  Abe glanced down at Craig’s hand, sighed, and edged closer before Craig ripped the Henley off his back. “Another time, okay?” He peeled Craig’s fingers off him as gently as he could. “I’m with someone right now. An old friend who’s in town for a few days. I haven’t seen him for years, so we’ve got some catching up to do.”

  The need to explain his refusal irritated him—he didn’t owe Craig anything—but Craig’s blue eyes were full of a belligerent, liquor-induced confusion, and the last thing Abe wanted was a fight. The no-holds-barred enthusiasm that had made Craig fun in bed wasn’t something Abe wanted unleashed in a crowded bar.

  “Hey, no worries,” Craig said loudly enough to draw a few glances from people around them. He caught Abe’s glare and moderated his voice. “You scored already, and that’s fine with me, but if you weren’t a selfish fuck, you’d share. I’m willing. There’s plenty of me to go ’round.” He peered over Abe’s shoulder. “Where is he anyway? Lemme get a look at him and see if he’s worth me getting my dick out.” As if in anticipation, he reached down and adjusted himself, shifting his cock along its all-too-obvious left lie.

  Share? Share Gary? It wasn’t as if Abe had never gone down that road, because he had, and the sex had been hot. The three of them had all been big men, with energy to burn. Abe had gotten fucked until his throat and ass were raw and loved it, though it was too intense to be something he looked for again.

  Gary, though—Gary was his. End of fucking story.

  He was proud he kept most of that off his face and out of his voice. “Not interested, sorry. Look, if you want an itch scratched, you may get lucky, but this isn’t a pick-up bar. Most people are here to have a drink, nothing more, so don’t come on too strong. You hear me, buddy?”

  Craig pouted, the relaxed good humor that’d first attracted Abe drowned in at least two drinks too many. Craig hadn’t been sober when they met before, but he’d been a happy drunk on that occasion, dispensing bright smiles and filthy if good-natured jokes to anyone interested. Abe didn’t know what was souring Craig’s mood tonight, but he wasn’t interested in finding out, either.

  “Fine.” Craig huffed, showing all the grace of a toddler denied a candy bar and offered a carrot stick instead. “No sharing. I still want to meet him.”

  Abe contemplated his options and couldn’t come up with any way to prevent that. If he said no and walked over to the booth, Craig might follow him. If Abe could catch Gary’s eye, somehow signal for him to leave, then meet him in the parking lot—no, that was too complicated. Shit.

  He’d mentally criticized Gary for talking so much about his late . . . partner? Boss? Master? All of the above? At least Gary hadn’t forced Abe into an impromptu drunken meeting with the guy, though.

  With an impatient jerk of his head, he led Craig over to meet Gary.

  Gary looked a shade surprised when Craig leaned over to shake his hand, pumping it vigorously, but he didn’t blow Craig off the way Abe had secretly hoped he would. Gary had always been great at making someone decide they had other places to be, but now he shifted over to make room for a mollified Craig, and gestured the waitress over to order another round.

  Of all the times for Gary t
o be on his best behavior . . .

  Abe sat down across from the other two men and drew his glass of beer toward him, his brief flirtation with contentment over.

  Craig, single-minded and still hopeful about that threesome by the look of it, took his bottle from the smiling waitress before telling Gary how he’d met Abe.

  “So, I see this guy bending over to pick up his keys, and sweet baby Jesus but I like the view.”

  “He’s worth looking at from many angles,” Gary agreed. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Abe would’ve preferred impatience. Unless Gary hadn’t been enjoying their earlier conversation as much as he had?

  Craig snickered and elbowed Gary in the ribs. “Damn, you’re not kidding! My favorite’s from behind, with him spread out on the bed like a big old rug, begging and cursing and telling me to fuck him—”

  “Craig.” Abe tasted the name, acid burning his throat. “Shut the fuck up and drink your goddamned beer.”

  Craig’s face tightened. “What, he don’t know how you like it? I thought you and him went back a while? Or do you only spread your cheeks and squeal like a pig for a real man?”

  This right here was why he preferred one-night stands. His face burning with humiliated anger, he took a quick, unsteady breath, trying not to think how good it would feel to drive his fist into Craig’s slack, sneering mouth.

  “Craig, it was nice to meet you.”

  “Huh?” Craig twisted around to a smiling Gary. “I’m not done here, if that’s what you mean. A big pussy like him doesn’t need an aging twink. He needs someone who can tell him how to wipe his ass.” Craig gestured at Abe, who was locked in a frozen state of disgust at himself for not going with his first instinct and kicking the shit out of Craig. “Don’t you, sweetcheeks? Course, you licked mine clean like a good little boy, didn’t you? Did a nice job of it too. Maybe you and your friend can tag team for me.”

  The freeze shattered. “You piece of shit.” Abe put his hands on the table and stood. It’d be worth getting thrown out, even barred, to get Craig’s blood on his knuckles.