Dylan felt his brow crinkle. So the man could put more than three words together.
Unfortunately, those words pushed an uncomfortable prickle up Dylan’s neck. “Yeah, well your ex was acting like an ass.” Well, that didn’t sound defensive at all.
“Maybe so. But I’d expect, as a grown man, you’d have better control over your own tongue.”
Dylan hiked a brow, amused. “You could have told Tyler the truth. Oh, wait, that’s right,” he said drily. “You couldn’t say anything at all.”
Alec huffed again—and Dylan definitely detected the self-deprecating humor in the sound—and went back to his futile attempt at lifting the bike.
And so what if the ex had pissed Dylan off? Their relationship was none of Dylan’s business. He shouldn’t have let himself get backed into a corner about the damn party.
Alec adjusted his grip on the handle bar and the seat and heaved. The bike barely budged. Dylan bit his tongue, determined to wait for Alec to ask for help. Dylan had already offered. Damned if he was gonna offer again and get turned down. But the guilt about his actions yesterday still needled him…
“You could tell Tyler the truth now,” Dylan said.
“Except I’d look like an idiot for going along in the first place.”
Jesus, what did the man want from him?
“Then we go and pretend were doing the horizontal mambo,” Dylan said.
“I know absolutely nothing about you. How am I supposed to pretend we’re in a relationship?”
Seriously? Was that what had the man’s boxers tied in a knot?
Dylan suppressed the smile. “I didn’t tell your ex we were in a relationship.” The word felt foreign on Dylan’s tongue. “I told him we were having sex. There’s a difference.”
“Not for all of us,” Alec muttered and returned his attentions to his reclining bike.
The statement burrowed its way deeper into Dylan’s head, and the picture hanging on Alec’s garage wall flashed through Dylan’s mind. Did Alec think Dylan’s claim had killed the last chance to kiss and make up with his ex? Was regret making Alec so moody now? And why did the idea make Dylan feel like shit?
Guilt rolled through his gut again, this time creeping up his chest, and Dylan swiped his hand through his hair. Man, he really needed to stop working so hard. His fatigue was probably a good explanation for how yesterday had played out. Tired and cranky from a lack of downtime, he’d slipped into protector mode—defending a man who would have survived without his help—and then taken Tyler’s behavior personally.
With a silent groan, Dylan dismounted. Clearly he needed to burn off a little steam and kill the grumpiness with some satisfying speed. And no way was that happening anytime soon while Mr. Happy Homemaker here tried to lift the bike the wrong way.
Dylan crossed to stand beside Alec, who simply paused in the midst of another attempt, his biceps straining as he frowned up at Dylan.
“Quit sulking,” Dylan said, his tone easy.
“I’m not.”
“You are. And it’s not an attractive look on you.” Dylan gently pushed Alec over to make room for himself. “I’m helping. Unless you want to throw a disc and wind up in bed unable to move. You’re a doctor. You should know to use your legs, not your back. Like this.” Dylan faced away from the bike and crouched down, hooking his hands on the seat. Using his thighs, he walked backward, lifting the motorcycle as he went.
Alec stared at the now upright Harley. “Your muscles are bigger than mine.”
“I think we’ve established the same about my mouth.”
Alec’s gaze lifted to Dylan’s. “Is that your way of apologizing?”
Yes.
“No,” Dylan said.
Alec’s eyes crinkled in amusement as if he’d heard the contradiction, and a flush of embarrassment heated Dylan’s stomach. While Alec looked as if he were contemplating a smile, Dylan carefully laid the bike back down on the road.
“Give her a whirl,” Dylan said.
Alec turned and mimicked Dylan’s previous actions, achieving success on the first try.
“Excellent.” Dylan clapped Alec on the back. “You have muscle enough.”
The rigid set to Alec’s shoulders finally eased a bit, and Alec actually grinned. A small one, but the first since this morning. For some bizarro reason, Dylan felt as though he’d accomplished something huge and found himself grinning back. Jesus, he was definitely working too hard. Why else would a small exchange of smiles make him feel this good?
“Now,” Dylan said, eyeing Alec, “let’s get back on the bikes and try to enjoy ourselves, okay?”