“Alec,” Charlie said, the middle-aged man startling Alec out of his stupor. “You ever think of buying a real bike?”
Being the newbie, Alec had borne the brunt of the group’s good-natured ribbing all day. Each man had his favorite brand of motorcycle. Alec had quickly learned their preferences as the men tossed about their favorite insults along the way, insults such as “foreign piece of shit,” “BMW stands for big money waster,” and “Harleys are for people who think professional wrestling is real.”
“A better question, Charlie”—Alec met the redhead’s gaze with a lazy hike of an eyebrow—“is when are you going to grow a real beard?”
The burst of laughter from the table was loud, but Dylan simply gazed out across the patio deck, not even a hint of a smile on his face.
When his chuckle died away, Charles rubbed the patchy hair covering his cheeks. “How long you been riding, anyway?”
“A little over a month,” Alec said.
“Holy smokes, you are a neophyte,” Charlie said.
Dylan suddenly leaned forward in interest. “But the man’s got a mind like a friggin’ steel trap. I think he’s got a photographic memory.” He turned to Alec—
And good God, Alec should have been embarrassed by the wave of pleasure caused by the simple attention.
“What year did Honda introduce the CB750 to the US market?” Dylan asked.
“1969,” Alec replied.
“How many years did Harley Davidson make the Knucklehead engine?”
“Eleven.”
“When did Indian produce its first V-twin?” Charlie fired off.
“1907,” Alec said. “But there is some debate about the date.”
Charlie’s brother, Rob, let out a whistle. “He’s like a walking Wikipedia.”
“Maybe,” Alec said with a laugh. “Just don’t ask me to help you with a tune-up.”
Dylan tilted his head in Alec’s direction. “It’s true,” he said. “He doesn’t know the difference between a Phillips and a flat-head screwdriver.”
Rob barked out, “You gotta be kidding me?” at the same time several incredulous groans came from rest of the men. Alec grinned, amused the friendly ribbing now extended to his abysmal mechanical skills, but mostly relieved because Dylan not teasing Alec had felt so wrong.
“Time for the traditional birthday toast.” Rob lifted his beer. “To Rick Adams.”
With a general murmur of agreement, the small band of men raised their mugs, and Alec glanced at Dylan. The subdued mood suddenly clicked, and Alec mentally kicked himself in the ass.
Christ, how could he have been so blind?
Alec slowly set his drink down. Today was Rick’s birthday, the friend Dylan had spent every year honoring by organizing a massive fundraising event. The one who the proceeds were donated in honor of. The name splayed on the side of Dylan’s garage.
Catching his eye, Dylan sent him a small smile, but his usual twinkle of good humor was gone.
The table began to discuss tomorrow’s route, and Alec leaned closer to Dylan, his voice low. “You okay?”
Slouched in his chair, legs spread in a relaxed position, Dylan shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”
For the first time in weeks, Dylan held his gaze too long, lingering beyond a respectable time frame. And what started out as a worried feeling on Alec’s part took a long, slow slide into something else…
Several seconds ticked by during which Alec knew he needed to shift his attention somewhere else. Anywhere else. But Dylan sabotaged the attempt when his eyes dropped to Alec’s mouth and turned a darker green. A shade Alec was very familiar with.
It was the look a small part of him had been hoping to see all day.
Despite the cool breeze, heat flushed up Alec’s neck. He sipped his beer and shifted in his seat. Unfortunately, repositioning himself in his chair brought his knee up against Dylan’s, the contact sending a jolt through Alec’s body.
His throat suddenly felt twice baked and lacking in moisture. He carefully set his mug down, licking the foam from his lips and very aware Dylan watched the procedure with intense interest.
Shit.
Now that his beer sat on the table, Alec didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he tucked his hair behind his ears. Dylan’s gaze seemed to follow his every movement, and Alec’s pulse picked up speed, the conversation around them fading.
The time had come to stop pretending. Nothing was the same since they’d resumed their friendship. Right now the seemingly innocent contact of knee against knee distracted Alec to the point where he couldn’t follow the conversation, not when Dylan’s gaze kept crash-landing back into Alec’s. Asking questions Alec couldn’t answer.
Making dark promises Alec shouldn’t want Dylan to keep.
Dylan’s expression stuck with Alec as they settled the bill and made their way back to the hotel with the rest of the group. When Alec entered his room, alone, he tossed his keys onto the dresser, restless. Sweeping his gaze across the boring beige décor and the king-sized bed made Alec feel…lonely.