The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (18 page)

“Why are you selling her?” Dylan asked.

“Between my new job and the family, I don’t have much time for riding anymore,” the owner answered.

The twenty-something man bouncing a drooling, barefoot baby in his arms was watching Dylan eagerly, clearly committed to making the sale. Dylan was inspecting the bike. And Alec…

Well, Alec appeared to be checking Dylan out.

The heat crawling up Dylan’s back and sweat dotting his neck had nothing to do with the late afternoon sun and everything to do with that appreciative gaze. To cover his partial hard-on, he knelt to study the front tire.

Today’s plan appeared to be working. Alec always looked turned on whenever Dylan and motorcycles got within ten yards of each other. Dylan figured the bike that James Dean drove would add some extra sex appeal.

A couple of days ago, Dylan had been kneeling in Alec’s garage, fixing the clutch on the Ducati, when Alec had come home from work. The flash of lust in Alec’s expression would have brought Dylan to his knees if he hadn’t been there already. But Dylan’s grease-stained hands and sweaty T-shirt must have been more than Alec could stomach. The man had headed directly into the kitchen to make dinner.

Undaunted, Dylan had dragged Alec along today. He hoped to generate a little more of that motorcycle-induced lust because, two weeks after they’d first landed back in bed together, Dylan had only one complaint.

Why did he always have to instigate the touching first?

Dylan hated the thoughts now plaguing his brain, like maybe Alec didn’t want him as much as he wanted Alec. Or maybe the sex wasn’t as good as Dylan thought. But, damn it, he knew better. Alec might not start their marathon sessions, but he damn well enjoyed them. It seemed more likely that Dylan represented a convenient source of sex until Alec got over his ex.

Crap. Where had that thought come from? As Alec and the owner chatted behind him, Dylan squeezed the tire in frustration, a lame-ass attempt to pretend to check the pressure.

In the beginning the situation hadn’t bothered him because he was still busy adjusting to the concept of sleeping with the same person for more than two nights in a row. And he wasn’t even gonna touch on the fact that the person was a dude.

He wanted Alec, case closed. He wanted Alec on him, under him, or any other way he could have him. Dylan refused to waste time wringing his hands and weeping in his morning coffee or moaning
why,
like a teen who turns everything into an emotional nuclear event.

So he’d moved on to the more pressing concern of Alec’s behavior.

Dylan believed Alec’s assertiveness the night of Noah’s party had either been an anomaly due to alcohol or something was holding Alec back in bed, a fact Dylan hadn’t been able to overcome by trying new positions and unusual ways to make Alec come.

Except for blowjobs. Dylan couldn’t stomach the thought of sucking a guy off, a dick in his mouth. Not again.

Fuck.

Dylan closed his eyes and fought the memory of a bruising grip on his head, the brick alley wall pressing against his back as he choked, unable to escape. Unable to breathe. Drowning.
Drownin
g…

With herculean effort, Dylan sucked in a lungful of oxygen.

That was years ago
.
Quit being such a pansy-assed wuss
.

Concentrate. Just…concentrate. Overpriced bike. Sale. Alec. Baby drool.

Struggling to control his rapid breathing, Dylan fingered the worn tread on the tire and forced himself to take stock of the Triumph’s condition. Due to the rust, the frame required sanding, and a new paintjob ought to be a priority. The headlight needed replacing, but that was an easy fix—

“You want to take her for a longer ride?” the owner asked.

Jesus, couldn’t the man see Dylan was in the middle of talking himself back from the ledge?

“Looks like she hasn’t been ridden much lately,” Dylan said, willing himself to friggin’ calm down and wiping black grease on his shirt. And then he looked at his arms, realizing they were smeared with oil from when he’d checked the level on the Triumph.

Damn, he was a mess again. This wasn’t the lead up to sexy times Dylan had been hoping for.

“It’s hard to get away with a toddler and a four-month-old in the house,” the owner said.

Dylan’s concentration didn’t break as he stood, his eyes roaming the bike. Overpriced, but still salvageable. “She’s a beauty.”

“Thanks. Her name is Chloe.”

“Uh…” Dylan lifted his gaze to the infant. “Yeah, her too.”

The proud father glanced down at the baby, who was attempting to shove her entire fist into her mouth. The drool now made an impressive trail down her arm.

“The bike comes with the original owner’s manual,” the man said. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He held out his daughter in Dylan’s direction, and Dylan’s oh-
hell
-no expression obviously didn’t register with the dad. Stunned, Dylan automatically gripped the baby under the arms, Chloe dangling like a puppy in a toddler’s grasp as she stared up at Dylan with wide, blue eyes and a river of drool.

Whoa. Nothing like a baby to kill those sexy thoughts. And what about his plans for Alec? Dylan had already accumulated enough grease and sweat to turn Alec off. Now he’d added saliva to boot.

Alec’s lips twisted in suppressed humor as he stepped forward to, thank
God
, rescue Dylan by scooping up the infant.

“I’ll hold her.” Alec settled Chloe expertly into the crook of his elbow.

Dylan would have kissed the man if his arms hadn’t been full of a slobbery infant.

The father fumbled to unlatch the saddlebag, yet another item that didn’t function right. Dylan stared at a well-dressed,
clean
Alec holding the baby with a sizeable line of drool now hanging from her mouth, dangling in the air. Seriously, someone needed to shut the main water line off and fix that horrific leakage problem.

But Alec? He seemed totally unconcerned. In truth, he appeared content, for lack of a better word. And right after Dylan sent a frustrated look at the mood-killer of a tiny human with massive blue eyes, Dylan’s mind registered just how natural Alec looked holding the baby. Clearly, somewhere in the acquisition of all those letters after his name—BS, MD, MPH—Alec had actually spent time handling kids.

The scene was kinda cute. Almost…adorable.

Dylan blinked, the word rolling around in his head. Adorable.
Adorable
? Shit, next he’d be buying a fucking minivan.

“I also have the maintenance record and two spare keys,” the owner said.

The man finally pulled out the manual and tried to pass it to Dylan. But Dylan couldn’t focus, too caught up in just how far his thoughts had wandered from getting Alec to jump him.

“Impressive,” Alec said to the owner, discreetly shooting Dylan a get-with-the-program look.

Dylan cleared his throat and took the manual. “Yeah. Impressive.” He flipped through the pages of instructions, not seeing a thing. “Cool that you still have the original. Too bad you have to let her go,” he said, returning the handbook to the saddlebag.

“I don’t mind. Besides, I could use the extra money,” the man said.

“Well, she’s a sweet ride.” Or she could be, with a lot of work. “But I’ve got a couple more I want to check out before I make any decisions.”

“No problem,” the man said, taking his daughter back from Alec. “Just give me a call if you decide it’s the one for you.”

“You bet,” Dylan said.

Dylan headed up the driveway toward his motorcycle parked on the street. Alec followed along, his car parked just behind Dylan’s bike. Because of the timing and the location in relation to Alec’s work, they’d had to meet here instead of riding together. Fate was a bitch, and she’d been determined to screw up Dylan’s plan to tempt Alec into seducing him.

And, Jesus, he’d never recover from the brief thought that Alec holding a baby was cute.

“That was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, man,” Dylan said to Alec.

Alec raised a brow in question.

“Baby slobber,” Dylan said.

Alec grinned as they parted, and he rounded his car before stopping at the door. “This coming from the man covered in grease.”

Dylan mentally winced. So, yeah, Alec found the mess a total turn-off. “But that’s not nearly as gross,” Dylan said in protest. He covered the awkward feeling with a teasing grin. “And now we got that slobber on our
hands
.”

“Do I have to shower before you’ll touch me?”

Dylan’s heart stopped in his chest. Maybe he could salvage this outing yet. He’d have to, cuz right now he itched to be climbing into the car. Dylan hated that he couldn’t get his hands on Alec during the trip back. Nothing Dylan could do about that now though, especially while covered in grease and sweat and baby drool.

Brilliant. Derailed by a 1955 Triumph and a malfunctioning four-month-old.

“No. But you gotta at least wash your hands first. Or…” Dylan tossed Alec a wicked smile as he headed toward his bike. “I’ll be happy to touch you
in
the shower.”

Alec chuckled, and Dylan threw his leg over his motorcycle. Tonight Alec’s Harley would just have to do as a replacement to the Triumph. The new saddlebags for Alec’s bike had arrived several days ago, which provided the perfect excuse.

Eager to get back to Alec’s house and salvage his plan, he looked back at Alec. “I need to pick up the Allen wrenches at my house so we can replace the bags on your bike.”

Alec’s hand paused on the door handle. “You want me to follow you there?”

The words
not necessary
formed on Dylan’s lips, but he bit them back. He’d fallen into the comfortable routine of spending about three out of every four nights at Alec’s place. Not once had Dylan invited Alec to his home. Of course, Alec’s house was a hell of a lot nicer than Dylan’s apartment, so the setup only made sense.

But maybe Alec would loosen up a little after seeing where Dylan lived. It wasn’t like viewing his apartment meant they were attached at the hip or something stupid like that. Of course, other than their discussion about Rick the night of the poker run, the conversations had been kept well away from anything personal. Oh, there’d been some indirect attempts for sure, but Alec’s subtle tries to gain more information had been ignored by Dylan.

Taking a shower was easy. Changing clothes? A no-brainer. Cracking open his chest so more of the crap he kept inside could spill out? Oh,
hell
no.

But Alec had asked and refusing would be rude, even for Dylan.

“Sure.” Dylan let the dregs of his resistance go. “I’ll be careful not to lose you.”

The crinkles around Alec’s eyes were reassuring. “As if you could.”

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the driveway of his landlord’s well-kept home of concrete block and stucco, the white offset by blue shutters. Brightly colored flowers lined the front walkway, and trees dotted the front yard. Dylan found the scene soothing, despite the fact the main housed looked as if fucking Mary Poppins was about to land on the roof.

Alec parked behind Dylan and exited the car. “Is that the sex swing you keep referring to?” Alec asked with a nod at the front porch swing.

Unfortunately, Alec’s comment held more humor than heat. In fact, the lack of heat in Alec’s look was disappointing.

Dylan let out an amused grunt. “Hardly.”

He tried hard not to think about how much he longed to tease the fire back into Alec’s eyes as they made their way around back, up the stairs, and into his garage apartment. The sparse living room and bathroom were functional. His bedroom on the other hand? Definitely a contender for the Worst Bachelor Pad Ever award. The kitchen was almost none existent, but he didn’t cook anyway. Dylan had never cared before, so why did he feel awkward and anxious now?

He just needed to grab his tools and get them both back to Alec’s place, where everything felt more…normal.

Alec’s gaze swept over the furniture pieces that looked exactly like what they were, a starter set for a college student who’d used the shit out of them and then paid Dylan to haul the stuff away.

“Homey,” Alec said.

As a teasing comment, the words fell flat. Mostly because Alec no longer looked relaxed; he looked distracted. And not in a good way.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “You’re as bad as Noah,” he said. “The rent is good and includes the garage beneath.”

Before Alec could comment further, Dylan escaped into his bedroom. Yep, good plan. Get some clean clothes and then get the heck out of here. In the meantime, he wracked his brains to come up with something to fill the strained silence. Anything to get them back to more familiar ground.

“Have you and Tyler decided on a fundraiser yet?” Dylan called out.

“Maybe. Jack Davis sits on the board at Charity Regional Hospital. He’s invited us to a Tigers’ game to tempt us into teaming up for a bachelor bid, with Noah in charge.”

Dylan gripped the doorway of his bedroom and leaned around to stare at Alec. “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”

The pained look on Alec’s face was almost comical. “I wish.”

“Man, I shudder at the thought of Noah acting as MC at a bachelor auction.”

Alec chuckled, and Dylan grinned at the laugh lines around Alec’s eyes. Dylan’s grip eased on the wood trim. Good, awkwardness gone. Finally,
progress
.

“Are you going to put yourself up for bid?” Dylan asked.

The look on Alec’s face sent Dylan’s stomach into a tailspin.

Damn, what a way to shine a spotlight on the ticking time bomb between them.

Referencing Alec’s bachelor status had been a moronic move on Dylan’s part. The oblique reference to their dead-end relationship went over like gut-splitting laughter at a funeral. Dylan totally owned the blame for this one. He should have known that, to Alec, a commitment took priority over a good time. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spent two years trying to make things work with Tyler. He held babies as if he liked them, for fuck’s sake. But, for some reason, Alec had decided being with Dylan for a while was worth putting his significant-other goals on hold.

Making Alec unhappy sucked. In fact, the look on Alec’s face now was kind of crushing.