Chapter Two
Kyle had never been so disappointed by a gay bar full of hot men.
He had spent a lot of time in gay bars. A lot of time in this bar in particular. The Kingfisher had been his main source of income for years, and he’d flirted with a vast array of hot men in this very room during that time. He’d gone home with a decent percentage of them. Tonight the Kingfisher was celebrating the engagement of two gay men, yet was packed with straight dudes. Hockey players, mostly.
Extremely attractive hockey players. And their wives.
Water, water everywhere...
Kyle sighed and poured a lager for the zillionth time that evening. The hockey players were not adventurous in their choice of alcoholic beverages.
He set the pint glass on the bar and offered a smile to the tall, scruffy millionaire athlete who took the beer without even a glance at Kyle.
Straight men. God.
There was a time when meeting even one NHL star would have been exciting, but since Scott Hunter had become a regular at the Kingfisher, and since Kyle had become friends with Kip, New York Admirals players had become commonplace in Kyle’s life. Boring, even.
“Having fun?” Kyle’s co-worker, Aram, playfully bumped his hip as he reached for a pint glass.
“Could be having more fun if any of these boys knew how to flirt,” Kyle grumbled.
“I know. What a waste, right? This place is full of tens, and they’re all
worthless.”
“Counterfeit tens,” Kyle agreed.
Aram rested both of his massive arms on the bar and leaned forward, grinning at the rowdy and attractive crowd. “Still, though. Fun to look at.
Have you seen Matti Jalo up close?”
“Not as close as I’d like to.”
Aram laughed as a man who was not the New York Admirals’ gorgeous Finnish defenseman ambled up to the bar and asked them for a couple of
pints of beer. Aram got to work pouring them while pointlessly flirting with the man. Kyle let his eyes roam the room.
Ooh. Eric Bennett.
The Admirals’ star goaltender was leaning against the bar, seemingly taking in the party. Kyle didn’t really know him, but he’d seen him in here before with Scott and Kip and he was kind of exactly Kyle’s type. Or, rather, he was exactly the type of man Kyle wouldn’t allow himself to fall for anymore. But it didn’t hurt to look. Kyle had always loved Eric’s dark, curly hair and well-groomed stubble, both of which were flecked with gray.
He was tall and lean and always seemed so mature and elegant compared to the other Admirals players.
Eric was alone now, and he was technically at the bar, so Kyle could technically ask if he wanted to order anything. What if he’d been waiting patiently this whole time to order a drink? With his back to the bar...
“Can I get you anything?” Kyle leaned on the bar, angling his face so that Eric could see him in his periphery.
Eric turned his head immediately. “I’m fine,” he said with a polite smile.
He certainly was. He was wearing a blue-and-white checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. His dark eyes fixed on Kyle’s, his gaze confident and unwavering.
Oof. If Kyle had one weakness—and he didn’t; he had many—it was confident, attractive older men. Also, confident, attractive younger men.
Also, men.
“Kyle, right?” Eric asked. “You’re friends with Kip.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m Eric.” He extended his hand, and Kyle shook it.
“I know who you are.” Kyle’s tone was teasing and flirty, because it was pretty much always teasing and flirty. “You’re the one who hides that handsome face behind a mask all the time.”
He expected Eric the heterosexual goaltender to lean away and make an excuse to leave. Or maybe just leave. But instead, his lips quirked up and he said, “That’s how it stays so handsome.”
Kyle let himself enjoy the playful sparkle in Eric’s eyes for a moment.
“Hey, Kyle! I need to get a fresh keg of the lager. You good here for a minute?”
Kyle turned to Aram. “Of course. Go use those muscles.”
Aram blew him a kiss, then left for the back room.
“It was nice of Scott to book this party at Kip’s place of work,” Eric said dryly.
Kyle laughed. “I was thinking the exact same thing. Who does that, right?”
Eric shook his head. “Scott Hunter, that’s who. He likes this place, and he’s comfortable here. I’m sure that’s all he was focused on.”
Kyle spotted Scott in the crowd—it wasn’t hard because he was six-four and looked exactly how Kyle had always imagined Achilles. Scott was laughing with some friends, and Kyle couldn’t help but smile. Two years ago, Scott had been firmly in the closet, lonely, and would have been terrified to enter a gay bar like the Kingfisher. Now he was a regular here— the bar had even named a drink after him—and hosting his big gay engagement party. Kyle was happy for him. He was happy for Kip too, even if his feelings on that front were a little more complicated.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Kyle asked. “I’ve been pouring pints all night and I would love to show off my cocktail skills.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Oh. Oh god, sorry. I shouldn’t tempt you.”
Eric waved a hand. “It’s not like that. I’m not tempted.”
“Ah.” Kyle folded his arms on the bar and leaned forward. “You’re just a
very good boy, then?”
Eric smirked. “Most of the time.”
Wait. Was Eric flirting with him? The conversation seemed flirtatious, but Kyle had a long history of clocking desire when there absolutely was none
on the part of the other man.
Straight men. Another weakness of his.
“You’re in luck because I happen to make the most amazing mocktails in the world.”
Amusement sparkled in Eric’s eyes. “Do you now?”
Kyle winked. “You’ll swear there’s booze in them. They’re that good.”
“I can’t really compare.”
“Has it really been that long since you’ve had a drink?”
Before Eric could answer—if he was going to answer—they were interrupted by an excited Kip Grady.
“Eric!” Kip draped an arm over Eric’s shoulders, then drunkenly lurched forward, pulling both men closer to where Kyle was standing behind the bar. Eric’s nose almost brushed Kyle’s cheek. “You’re here!”
“I am,” Eric said, calmly sliding out from under Kip’s arm. He straightened and took a step back, but his face was still relaxed and quietly amused. “Are you having a good time?”
“I’m getting married!” Kip’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glowed with drunken ecstasy and love. Kyle looked away.
“Congratulations,” Eric said. He leaned on the bar, then brought his left hand up to clasp his wrist. That’s when Kyle noticed the gold band on his
ring finger.
Married. Right. Of course.
He blinked when he realized that Kip was trying to get his attention. He dragged his gaze away from the wedding ring and up to Kip’s beaming face.
“This is Eric!” Kip said sloppily. “He’s, like, the best goalie ever!”
“I’ve heard.”
“He’s smart too! He collects art.” Kip’s eyes widened in an expression of sudden realization. “Eric! Kyle is studying art!”
“Really?” Eric asked Kyle.
“Art history,” Kyle clarified. “Ancient art, mostly. If your collection includes three-thousand-year-old mosaics, I’m your expert.”
Eric’s face split into a wide smile that nearly knocked Kyle on his ass.
This man was gorgeous.
While Kyle was losing himself in Eric’s handsome face, Kip darted behind the bar, bumping up against Kyle. He grabbed a pint glass and started pouring himself a beer, but Kyle stopped him. “Get out of here.
You’re drunk.”
Kip rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine. You pour it.”
When Kyle handed him the beer that he absolutely did not need, Kip leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
Kyle’s shoulders stiffened. “Love you too,” he said quietly. His gaze followed Kip helplessly as he walked away with his drink.
“Where are you studying ancient art?” Eric asked, snapping Kyle’s attention back to him.
Kyle managed a small smile. See, Kyle? There’s no reason to be sad. You have a beautiful, married straight man to keep you company. “Columbia.
I’m working on my master’s degree.”
“Impressive.”
“Well, before you get too dazzled by me, I’ll clarify that I am very slowly working on my master’s degree. I’m only taking one class right now.”
“Still impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was studying ancient art before. What made you choose that field?”
Eric’s eyes were warm and attentive. Kyle believed that he was truly interested in his answer. “I’ve always been interested in it, since I was a kid.
I had this illustrated children’s book of Greek myths that I read a zillion times.” He laughed. “When I got older I learned that the real versions of those myths were a lot more violent. And horny.”
“More bestiality than you were expecting?”
Kyle waved a hand. “That’s the least of it. Anyway, obviously the R-rated versions only made me more interested in mythology. Which grew into an interest in the people who created and believed those myths. The storytellers, y’know?”
Eric nodded thoughtfully. “Is your undergraduate degree in art history as well?”
“I majored in ancient history and Latin, and then I decided on ancient art and architecture for my master’s degree.”
“That sounds like a fascinating thing to study.”
Kyle shrugged. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with it, but I like
learning.”
“Me too.”
Kyle leaned on the bar. “Oh yeah? Are you a reader?” Maybe Eric was one of those well-rounded athletes who took online college classes or listened to a lot of educational podcasts.
“I like to read. I majored in English literature.”
Kyle was momentarily surprised, but when he considered the man in front of him, he decided that being a student of literature suited him more than being a hockey player. “Where did you study?”
Eric’s lips twisted in a way that suggested he was embarrassed by what he was about to say. “Harvard.”
Kyle blinked. “You have a Harvard degree?”
“Yes.”
Kyle laughed. He couldn’t help it. He quickly covered his mouth, cringing at how rude that reaction had been. “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting that.”
Eric, thankfully, wasn’t offended. “You’re not the first person to be surprised by it. But you can check my Wikipedia page if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you.” What Kyle couldn’t believe was how cruel the universe was for placing this absurdly perfect, absolutely forbidden man in front of him. An older, athletic, confident man with a Harvard degree in English?
Come the fuck on. Kyle was so tempted to say something very flirtatious right now, just to see if he could shake Eric’s calm veneer. Just to see if his dark eyes would show discomfort, or desire.
A stunning woman with blond hair and impeccable timing saved Kyle from conducting any inappropriate experiments. Regardless, Kyle felt Eric’s gaze on him the entire time he made the customer her vodka soda.
“You’re working at your friend’s engagement party,” Eric said after the
woman left with her drink.
“Yeah. You noticed that, huh?”
Eric seemed to consider Kyle for a moment, as if he was trying to puzzle him out. There was something about the way Eric looked at him that had Kyle feeling very exposed. He nearly shivered.
“I’m not working working. It’s a private event and everyone who works here is also on the invite list because that’s how Kip rolls, but I don’t really know most of the guests, so I’m happy to help out behind the bar.”
“Better than making small talk with hockey players.” Eric’s lips curved
up slightly as he said it.
Kyle leaned in. “Most of the time.”
For a moment, Eric didn’t say anything. He just stared intently at Kyle, as if he was unlocking all his secrets with his eyes. His lips were still twisted into that amused little smile, and Kyle had no idea what was happening right now. His dick was into it, though. His dick was always into unavailable men, so it could fuck off.
“So. Mocktails,” Kyle said, breaking the tension probably only he felt.
He clapped his hands together. “Do you have any allergies?”
“Cats,” Eric said.
Kyle frowned. “Oh. I’ll have to change the recipe then.”
Eric laughed at that. His laugh warm and wonderful. Kyle wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket. Straight. Married. Kyle repeated to himself. Straight, married, and a professional hockey player. Also, probably fifteen years older than you.
“You don’t have to make me anything. Really,” Eric said. “I need to leave soon anyway.”
Kyle shouldn’t have felt as disappointed as he did by that. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I—” Eric lowered his voice. “Between you and me, I love Scott.
And Kip. But I feel like I’ve been celebrating their relationship for going on three years now.”
Kyle grinned in delight. “I know, right? Like, we get it. You’re perfect and in love.”
“Disgusting,” Eric agreed. They both laughed.
“Seriously, though,” Eric said, looking a little ashamed of what he’d said about his friends, “I’m thrilled for them. Especially Scott. I’ve known him a long time, and he...well, he’s definitely earned his happiness.”
Kyle spotted Kip and Scott in the crowd. Scott had his arm wrapped firmly around Kip’s shoulders, and both men were beaming. “He got a good man,” Kyle said wistfully. When his gaze returned to Eric, he found sympathy in the other man’s eyes. It was startling.
“He did,” Eric agreed.
Kyle rolled his eyes, which was the immature thing he did when he didn’t want to deal with feelings. “Anyway. I should gather up some of the empties.” He grabbed a tray and gave Eric a parting wink before entering the drunken fray.
Eric watched Kyle maneuver his way through the crowded bar. He watched his slim hips sliding this way and that, avoiding tables and people. He watched his long fingers plucking bottles and empty glasses from tables. He watched the way Kyle’s lips would stretch into a playful smile whenever anyone spoke to him.
He watched him for probably far too long. Until a hand on Eric’s shoulder broke him out of his trance.
“Who do you have your eye on?” Eric’s teammate and friend, Carter Vaughan, had managed to sneak up on him, which wasn’t easy. “There aren’t a lot of single women here tonight, but I wouldn’t rule Matti out as a
possibility.”
“What are you ever talking about?”
“Like, I’m straight. A thousand percent. And I’m committed to Gloria a million percent, but I’ll admit it: Matti Jalo turns my head sometimes.”
“I’m not looking at anyone,” Eric lied. “I just zoned out for a minute.”
“Well, that I believe. As long as you’re not thinking about last night’s
game. This is a party, Benny!”
“I’m not.”
Carter raised both eyebrows, then took a sip of his beer.
“I’m not,” Eric insisted.
“Okay. You having fun at all?”
Eric shrugged. “Sure. I’m glad they’re finally getting married, y’know?”
“It should have happened a year ago.”
“I think it’s smart to wait. You should know for sure it’s the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I’m pretty sure Scotty knew within a week.”
Eric couldn’t argue with that. His own marriage had taught him that rushing into a commitment to someone was a bad idea, but even he saw the hearts in Scott’s and Kip’s eyes when they looked at each other.
“How are you holding up?” Carter asked. The playful glint in his eyes softened to something more like concern. “Is this hard for you?”
Eric took a moment to consider his question. He liked to consider every question before answering. “A little. Maybe. Not that I’m not happy for Scott, but I’ve been thinking about my own wedding, I guess.”
The teasing sparkle was back in Carter’s eyes. “You can remember back
that far?”
“Shut it.”
“I forget. Was Holly a war bride? Was she your nurse after the Germans
shot you?”
“All right, I’m going home.”
Carter nudged him. “Seriously, though. I’m sorry if this is rough for you.”
“It’s been a year, almost. I’m over it. Really. I don’t miss Holly, but I do
miss...” Eric shook his head.
“Regular sex?” Carter guessed.
“Companionship,” Eric finished with a glare at Carter. “Holly and I didn’t spend much quality time together the last few years, but it was still nice to have someone to talk to at night. When we were both home.”
“I’ll bet we can find someone who wouldn’t mind being your companion,” Carter said, making the word sound dirty.
Eric’s gaze found Kyle again, his tray now heaving under the weight of empty beer bottles and pint glasses. Eric could see the bulge of his bicep straining the fabric of his white T-shirt. He had an athletic figure—not jacked like the other bartender, but slim and toned. Eric wondered if he played any sports, or if he just worked out a lot.
“I think I’ll head home,” Eric said, because checking out the very young man tending bar was definitely a sign that it was time to leave.
“Gotta rest those old bones,” Carter joked.
“Yeah, yeah.” Eric retrieved his long, black wool coat and olive-green cashmere scarf from the back of a barstool.
As he was wrapping the scarf around his neck, Kyle returned and plunked the heavy tray down on the bar. He brushed the strands of blond hair that had fallen over one eye back into place with his fingers. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” Eric glanced at his watch, as if the time was any kind of justification for leaving a party right now. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet.
“Past your bedtime?” Kyle’s voice had dropped into a sultry, husky timbre, which Eric knew was meant to be teasing, but it sent a surprising
jolt through him.
“I’m not really a party guy.”
The thing Kyle was doing right then, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed, one shoulder raised just enough to make the hem of his T- shirt ride up to reveal the barest half inch of his flat stomach, probably worked on a lot of men. It was undeniably alluring. Eric tore his gaze away from the strip of pale skin, shaking his head as he buttoned his coat.
“I remember when you used to be fun, Benny,” Carter said.
“No you don’t,” Eric said flatly.
Carter laughed. “No. I really don’t.”
“Goodnight, Carter.” Then, Eric turned to Kyle. “It was nice talking to you, Kyle.”
“Likewise.” The word slid out of Kyle’s mouth, rich and bordering on ridiculous. Eric was embarrassed by the heat that bloomed low in his belly in response. He turned and strode toward the exit before anyone noticed how flustered he was getting. He didn’t like to ever appear anything less than steady and unshakable at all times.
He stepped outside into a cold November drizzle and wished he’d worn something water-resistant instead of his wool Burberry coat. The frigid rain worked like an ice bath, though, easing the sparks that had been racing through Eric’s veins since he’d first laid eyes on Kyle tonight. The truth was, he’d been...aware of Kyle for some time. Eric had gone to the Kingfisher a handful of times over the past couple of years. He’d go if Kip was working, ostensibly keeping Scott company but in reality just sitting there while Scott watched his boyfriend serve people drinks.
The second time he’d agreed to go, Kyle had been working with Kip, and Eric had been drawn to him for reasons he still couldn’t explain.
Well. He could at least partially explain it. Certainly it had something to do with Kyle’s winter-blue eyes, and his easy, seductive smiles. He seemed confident and fun in a completely different way from Eric’s teammates. It was alluring.
Eric noticed people. He always had. His ability to observe everything and everyone around him was an integral part of his goaltending career. Despite this, he wasn’t often attracted to other people. But he was definitely attracted to Kyle.
Even though it had been over a year since he’d last had sex, Eric hadn’t been missing it. His sexual needs, such as they were, had always been satisfied one way or another. But now a few flirtatious words and smiles from a beautiful young bartender and suddenly Eric’s libido was demanding attention.
There was a time when the fact that the bartender in question was a man would have terrified Eric. For most of his life, he had chosen to ignore the part of him that was attracted to men. He’d been married to Holly, after all, so there’d been no reason to think about it. That was what he had told himself.
But since Scott Hunter had come out as gay, things had changed. Eric was lucky enough to have had a front-row seat to witness Scott’s happiness as he finally allowed himself to live and love the way he’d always been afraid to. He wasn’t like Scott. He had loved Holly once, and he’d never been forced to hide who he really was. Not in the same way. He’d just chosen not to reveal all of himself, because he’d never needed to.
But since his divorce, and now living in a brave new world where being attracted to men wasn’t an unthinkable thing for a hockey player, Eric had allowed himself to examine this thing that he’d buried so long ago. To poke
it a little. It was something that he thought he might like to explore, now that he was able. But how? Where on earth did one start with that sort of
thing?
With a flirty bartender?
No. Absolutely not. Kyle was much too young—barely older than the rookies on the team—so it was completely inappropriate. More than that, it would be humiliating. How much of a midlife crisis stereotype did Eric want to be? Dating a man who was almost half his age was not happening.
There had to be a safer and more sensible option.
For the first time in Eric’s life, safe and sensible didn’t seem particularly appealing.