The Backup Boyfriend

“Don’t tell anyone.” Alec leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I hide my People magazine in the middle of my stack of medical journals.”

 

 

Dylan tipped back his head and laughed. Apparently the good doctor’s research fetish extended to pop culture gossip as well. “Your secret is safe.”

 

Alec steadily held Dylan’s gaze and set his drink down, blue eyes lit with humor. “Go ahead and say it.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“That reading People magazine makes me a girl.”

 

Dylan pressed his lips together, smothering the smile, and gave Alec a lingering once-over as if the ridiculous statement deserved serious consideration. Alec didn’t have an overly muscular build, but the slim, well-toned physique filled out his button-down shirt just fine. Clearly, the man was in good shape. His angular face lacked any hint of femininity, but something about those blue eyes softened the features, and it wasn’t just the thick lashes. No, the effect came from an underlying openness and humility.

 

A vulnerability that Dylan found strangely compelling.

 

“Nope, you’re definitely not a girl.” Dylan nodded at a table with two females who’d been casting looks their way since they arrived. “Those are girls.”

 

“Women.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

The blond sent a sexy smile and turned in her chair to face him—or maybe Alec, Dylan wasn’t sure which—offering up a view of an impressive pair of breasts. Any other night Dylan would have been all over the offer, making his choice and enjoying himself until the sun came up. Right now he preferred hanging with Alec. Dylan hadn’t had this much fun since…well, since he couldn’t remember when.

 

Huh. He really needed to stop working so hard and get out more.

 

“They’re looking this way too.” Alec nodded at two men facing them on the other side of the bar, both studying them as well.

 

A military man, complete with buzz cut, sported an I’m-a-badass posture. The second guy had more muscles and tats than the cover of a bike rally magazine.

 

“Sorry.” Dylan shook his head and picked up his mug. “Does absolutely nothing for me. But don’t let me stop you. Take your pick and have at it.”

 

“They’re eyeing both of us. I think they want a foursome.”

 

Dylan choked on his sip of beer. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He blinked, staring at the two men. “Four?” Dylan didn’t consider himself a prude by any stretch of the imagination. He liked a good kink as much as the next guy. But still… “Man, how does anyone keep up with what goes where?”

 

“I wouldn’t know. I’m into monogamy.”

 

“Yeah.” Dylan eyed Alec over his mug. “The poster in your garage provided a pretty big clue.”

 

Alec tipped his head. “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

 

“Hell, no. I’m all for monogamy. But I subscribe to the only-one-woman-a-night version. And I sure as hell don’t want to be tied down to one person. Ever.”

 

The halftime show got underway, a band marching across the field on the big screen, and Dylan decided to take advantage.

 

“You sure I can’t talk you into the poker run?” This time Alec’s hesitation lasted longer, so Dylan went on. “I guarantee you’ll have fun.”

 

“What if I fell over in front of a crowd of die-hard bikers?”

 

“Dude, people fall over all the time.”

 

Which wasn’t entirely true, but anyone with Alec’s enthusiasm would always be welcome among Dylan’s riding friends. Besides, Dylan would be around to keep any assholes in line.

 

“Okay.” Alec blew out a breath. “I’ll go.”

 

Pleasure flared, and he bumped his shoulder against Alec’s. “Good.”

 

The grin on Dylan’s face must have made him look like an idiot because suddenly Alec was staring at him with an odd expression. An awkward pause swelled during which Dylan tried to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong.

 

Awareness washed over him slowly. A welcoming warmth. A pleasing pressure. The contact, in some weird way, reassuring. Slowly he realized their shoulders were still pressed together. And, as Dylan got caught up in the blue eyes, Alec’s gaze briefly ticked to Dylan’s mouth, the dark lashes dipping.

 

The glance hit Dylan like a blast from his acetylene torch, sending fizzles of heat skittering confusingly up his limbs, only to finally concentrate, fuck his life, in his groin.

 

Background noises faded, but Alec shifted his attention to the TV so quickly that the loss of the return gaze left Dylan feeling…unbalanced. As if he’d lost an anchor and been set adrift. And it also left him wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. Alec’s profile filled Dylan’s vision, and he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away from Alec’s mouth. Would his lips feel as soft as they looked? Would they taste good?

 

Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

 

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