The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (7 page)

“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?

Dylan turned to face forward, pretending to watch the commercial on the big screen as his heart spent several minutes knocking beneath his ribs, trying to beat some sense into him from the inside out.

Dylan was no homophobe. A number of his acquaintances were gay, a byproduct of his friendships with Noah and Rick. And those who were straight knew better than to use the words faggot or queer around Dylan.

Being touched by another man didn’t threaten Dylan’s masculinity. He knew who he was and what he liked and hadn’t really considered much outside the female persuasion. So why the confusing response to such a simple glance at his mouth?

Man, he really needed to get laid.

“You still coming to the party tomorrow night?” Alec asked.

Party?

Dylan seized the churning cauldron of his thoughts.

“Look, you really don’t have to go,” Alec said. “This whole backup boyfriend thing isn’t necessary.”

Going will be a mistake
.

The words echoing in his head held an edge of concern, and Dylan gripped the handle of his mug.

Since their first motorcycle lesson, Alec had tried multiple times to talk him out of attending Noah’s party. And every time Dylan had refused. He’d originally gone along with the scenario because he’d felt compelled to come to Alec’s defense. Being bested by Tyler didn’t sit so well with Dylan either.

But the more time he spent in Alec’s company, the more important going became. He hated the thought of a miserable, speechless Alec facing his bastard of an ex and the new boyfriend alone. Someone had to be around to metaphorically kick Tyler’s ass should the need arise.

And which Alec would show up tomorrow night? The tongue-tied man from the garage? Or the easygoing, confident guy with a research fetish and shameless obsession for
People
magazine?

If you go, you could kiss him for real. Find out if those lips are as soft as they look.

Desperate to ease his suddenly scorched throat, Dylan picked up his mug and tossed back the rest of his beer. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again.” He set his mug down with a determined thud, refusing to let the dumbass thoughts in his head scare him from his decision. “I’m going.” He glanced back at the burly dude with tats.

Nope. Nothing. Not a goddamn flicker.

All kissing Alec would prove was that men did nothing for him.

Dylan relaxed in his seat, finally spotting the furrow of concern on Alec’s brow.

“Listen,” Dylan said, “I’ll follow your lead. If you’re relaxed and happy, I’m relaxed and happy. No big deal.” In fact, he’d make sure it wasn’t a big deal.

Alec sent him a skeptical look. “You can keep your mouth shut if necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he lied.

Alec pursed his lips and slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said. “A little company would certainly be welcome. Tyler and I have conveniently avoided each other as much as possible. But passing him in the hallway at work and the brief meetings we’ve had so far have gone okay. Incredibly strained, but okay.”

“Sounds like we’re ready for tomorrow night then.”

Alec shot Dylan a confident smile. “I’m definitely ready.”

Oh God, he was so not ready.

Like millions of downed electrical wires, Alec’s nerves crackled as he trailed Dylan down the posh hallway to Noah’s condominium. Located in Pacific Heights, Noah’s place overlooked San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge, as exclusive as Noah’s taste in clothing. Dylan, in a surprising show of conformity, had dressed for the occasion. The sight was distracting, not to mention a complication Alec hadn’t considered when he’d assumed he was mentally prepared for tonight.

As they drew closer to the condo, the sound of laughter and muted music drifted from under Noah’s door. Dylan turned to face him and suddenly Alec needed air, so he tugged at his tie, hoping for relief.

“Quit fidgeting,” Dylan said.

“I can’t help it.”

“Dude, you have got to lighten up,” Dylan said. “You look as tense as a trip wire that’s two seconds from triggering an explosion. And remember…”

Dylan stepped forward to adjust Alec’s tie, bringing his green gaze close and those callused hands even closer. Alec wished he knew which spicy soap Dylan used, and how was relaxation even possible with Dylan around?

“Just pretend you can’t keep your eyes off of me.” Dylan gave the tie an awkward pat, his gaze shifting away as he stepped back.

Pretend
. At this point Alec would hardly be pretending.

Dylan had shown up at Alec’s place wearing nice slacks, a dressy leather jacket, and a blue button-down shirt that did crazy things to the color of his eyes. Eyes that brought to mind The Look.

The moment in the bar when Alec’s brain had suffered a complete meltdown.

It was wrong, so wrong to be crushing on his new friend. Especially when said crush had Alec seeing things that
weren’t there
.

Like Dylan engaging in The Look, as if he returned the attraction.

Tyler and his boyfriend had taken a backseat to Alec’s more pressing concerns. Despite his previous promise, Dylan was a wild card. Who knew what the man would pull? Even worse, how was Alec supposed to engage in small talk when all he could think about was that imagined heat in Dylan’s eyes?

Dylan pressed the doorbell, and the door opened.

“Finally,” Noah said, gripping them both by an elbow and pulling them into the marble foyer. “I’m glad you’re here.” In the large living room beyond, people milled about in cocktail dresses and suits.

Noah leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “FYI. Tyler brought that sweet piece of ass of his. And, sweetie”—Noah shot Alec a sympathetic look—“Logan is gorgeous. Everyone adores him. Did you know he produces documentaries and won a Sundance Film Festival award?”

“So what?” Dylan replied, tossing a casual arm around Alec’s shoulders, and every cell in Alec’s body hummed happily. “Alec has me and a sex swing.”

Alec’s body went from humming to buzzing in alarm, and Noah let out bark of laughter.

“Christ, I need a drink,” Alec mumbled.

“You’ll need several.” Noah winced. “Some of the talk revolves around how Tyler replaced you so quickly…”

At this point, who cares?

“No worries. I’ve got this.” Dylan steered Alec into the living room.

The next hour passed in a tense montage of guests coming by to congratulate Alec on the award, and he smiled and thanked them, introducing Dylan. Dylan, for his part, behaved. And while he didn’t do the small talk Noah’s usual crowd enjoyed, conversations revolving around art and theatre and overseas vacations, Dylan had won over just about every guest that stopped by. Including Jack Davis.

As a member of the board at Charity Regional Hospital, he was one of the richest men in the Bay Area and had come to the party accompanied by his wife. Dylan had told a joke that just skirted the edges of raunchy, and Sylvia Davis had laughed so hard Alec feared she’d undo all the Botox work she’d clearly had done.

Dylan’s easy, earthy charm—not to mention the good looks begging to be plastered across advertising billboards—won him the hearts of most of the women and quite a few of the men. Even Jack Davis, a codgery old bastard most people avoided, had liked Dylan.

Just when Alec was beginning to think he had the night in the bag, reality returned with a bitchy vengeance when he caught sight of his ex’s jet-black hair.

“Alec,” Tyler called smoothly from across the room. He placed his hand behind the blond-haired man at his side as they made their way in Alec’s direction. “Good to see you.”

The buzz of conversation around them dropped several decibels. Every guest studied the two during his ex’s approach, as if expecting—hoping?—for an embarrassing scene.

Dylan must have noticed. “Goddamn vultures,” he murmured as he threw his arm across Alec’s shoulders again.

Unfortunately, the rubbernecking taking place made the comparison just a little too accurate.

Dylan pulled Alec closer, leaning in to whisper at his ear. “Remember, don’t let him get to you.” Dylan’s warm breath sent goose bumps fanning down Alec’s neck. “You only have eyes for me.”

God, it was enough to make sweet baby Jesus cry.

“I’m fine,” Alec whispered firmly.

Except for the part that involved Dylan touching him.

Alec tried to put some much-needed space between them, but Dylan’s arm held fast as Tyler drew closer. Alec attempted a smile, painfully aware of the hard bicep pressed against his shoulder, the scent of man and spicy musk and something he couldn’t quite identify.

When the two men stopped in front of him, Alec said, “You remember Dylan?”

Tyler’s cool gaze landed on Dylan. “Of course.”

The two shook hands and seemed to be sizing each other up. Jockeying for position. Preparing for confrontation. Tyler’s iron control matched up against Dylan’s little boy, poke-it-with-a-stick-to-get-a-reaction style. A pounding throb set up house behind Alec’s right eye.

“This is Logan,” Tyler said.

Alec reached out and shook Logan’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Dylan’s hand on Alec’s shoulder shifted possessively to the back of Alec’s neck, like a high school football player might grip his girlfriend, claiming his territory. Alec used to hate the jocks with their cocky bluster and swagger and territorial nature. With Dylan, the posture was strangely thrilling. Alec suppressed a sigh.

Christ. When had he morphed into a teenage girl? And how could he focus with Dylan’s thumb stroking his skin?

“I heard about the Sundance Film Festival award, Logan,” Alec went on. “Congratulations.”

“I’ve been lucky.”

Logan wore a genuine smile, and Alec should probably resent his ex’s new boyfriend for being so nice.

“I’m sure luck only played a small part,” Alec said. “How did you get started?”

“I attended Duke University’s Center for Documentary Studies at the same time Tyler went to medical school there. In fact, I just learned he grew up one county over from me. Our high schools were rivals.”

“Small world, huh?” Alec said.

The conversation hit a lull, and the low-grade tension climbed another degree. At this point, Alec would have gladly given away a kidney just to have the conversation over.

Looking as unruffled as ever, Tyler said, “What high school did you attend, Dylan?”

“I didn’t,” Dylan said easily. “By age fifteen, I was living on the streets.”

The words bowled over Alec’s discomfort, and he whipped his gaze to Dylan, almost wrenching his neck in the process.