“You wouldn’t be worried that hooking up with me might get back to your buddies?”
“Nope.” Brandt met him level stare for level stare.
“What is your deal anyway? Bi? Pan?” Shane twirled his half-empty bottle between long fingers. “You don’t strike me as the type who’s out, but you also don’t seem particularly freaked out by what just happened.”
“I’ve been in too many truly crappy situations to get all worked up over what makes my dick twitch. Honestly, I did the whole mixed-up feelings thing in my teens and twenties, trying to figure out why it was some guys but not others but still plenty of women. And then Roger died, and fuck it. Never said a word to him, but my heart knew.”
“Yeah,” Shane said softly.
“Does it matter if it has a label? I like what I like, and I’m not here to defend it to anyone. Life’s too damn short to worry about what others might think.”
“I get that. I’m not exactly out on the road either. Country and folk music is way more welcoming than it used to be, but a lot of these events are in super rural communities, so I keep to myself mainly. And fuck. Of freaking course it would turn out that you’ve got more experience than me.” Shane’s laugh was belly deep and warmed Brandt even more than the beer.
“Did I say that?” Brandt joined him in chuckling. It was nice, talking openly like this. “Actually, I’ve done a lot of looking, a little kissing, some touching, but not a ton beyond that. And that, my friend, is exactly why we should let ourselves do what we already did even more.”
“How do you figure?”
“Maybe we’ve both had limited opportunities to explore some of this. And I get that neither of us wants something heavy or permanent, but it can be more than a one-off hookup. More room to try stuff, maybe stuff you’ve been wanting for a long time.” Brandt opened his palm, a welcoming gesture.
“Hmm.” Shane made a thoughtful noise.
“What do you say? You can’t tell me you’re not curious about a repeat or ten.” Brandt wasn’t one to pressure, so he tried to keep his posture and tone neutral, but damn if he didn’t want—need—Shane to see the benefits of continuing to hook up. His pulse pounded. Once wasn’t nearly enough.
Chapter Twelve
Shane was curious all right. Curious about what the rest of Brandt looked like under his clothes, what he’d feel like skin to skin, what other noises Shane could coax from him given more time. And he was curious in the general sense of the word too, curious about what it might feel like to kiss someone more than a handful of times, curious about the vast real estate between the one-night stands he was so opposed to and the sort of permanency he knew wasn’t for someone like him. Time to explore. Damn but Brandt was tempting as hell.
“I can be curious but also recognize a damn bad idea when I see it. I can’t stick around indefinitely.” The beer bottle was cool and slick against his sweaty palms. “I don’t want a messy parting. And I’d like to be able to see the kiddo. Visit.”
He’d been thinking about that while he’d been singing. He might need to get back on the road eventually, but he wasn’t going to give up this baby. He’d be the fun uncle. Or at least the guy with cool souvenirs from far-flung towns.
“Of course. You’re family to her.” Brandt nodded like this was a given, easing some of the tightness in Shane’s back. “And contrary to popular belief, it’s possible to be adult about a little fling. You’ll move on when you’re ready to, and I’m not gonna be the static line, snapping you back. I’m not really high on drama.”
“You’re a good guy,” he allowed. And Brandt was. Shane was the one who had brought drama to his doorstep, and Brandt had been nothing other than responsible. He was way more than the party-happy sky cowboy Shane had assumed at their first meeting.
“Yeah, I am. And so are you.” Brandt saluted him with his nearly empty beer. “Way I see it, we’re two good dudes with itchy feet who need to stay put for a spell. Why not enjoy it?”
Why not indeed? All Shane’s reasons were melting away, one by one, leaving only this aching need for more. More kisses. More time together. More discoveries. “How would this work, anyway? We make a to-do list of everything we haven’t tried yet?”
“You’re way too organized.” Brandt laughed, deep and rich, and set down his beer. “Or we could ditch the list. See what comes up. I’m not saying we have to fuck either if that’s something you’re intent on saving for someone special.”
Ha. Shane had given up on that notion several years prior. His music dreams had won out over his romantic ones. He wasn’t ever going to be in one place long enough to fall in love. He wanted more than a one-off, but he also was a realist. And a human, one with needs and wants, even if he usually tried to keep them under lockdown.
“I didn’t say that was off the table.” He tried to mimic Brandt’s cool disinterest and failed miserably as he searched for the right words. “But I need to tell you, when I think about fucking, it’s not... I’m not...usually—”
“I wanna get fucked.” Brandt cut him off with the bald statement, matter-of-fact delivery like he was discussing pizza toppings.
“Uh...” Shane somehow managed to cough and blink at the same time, a combo that left him lightheaded.
“Careful there.” Brandt pushed back from the table, came around the table to rub Shane’s shoulder. “You might want to scoop your jaw off the table while you’re at it. I figured I might as well be direct and save you all the hemming and hawing, but we don’t need you leaking neurons.”
“Sorry. That’s...” It was close to impossible to think with Brandt so close, big hand right there, pressing down. Crazy hot. That’s what it was, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal how turned on the notion made him. “You seem rather sure for someone who hasn’t tried it.”
“Dude. You think I reached thirty and never encountered my prostate?” Brandt scoffed, and Shane didn’t need to glance up to know that he’d rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a partner to know what I like. Hell, I’d say you’re missing out if you haven’t played around at all.”
“I didn’t say...” He exhaled hard, words escaping him because Brandt had added his second hand and started a gentle but effective massage. “It’s more that my fantasies run to...”
“Fucking ripped smoke jumpers? Maybe if I ask nicely?” Brandt was grinning like a puppy with a tennis ball when Shane glanced up. Damn. His usual easy grin was hard enough to resist, but him like this, silly and flirting, was damn near deadly.