Right. And I’ll be six foot tall and solid muscle to boot. Idiot. Max shut down the internal dialogue and returned Bo’s grin, although probably not as brightly. He didn’t have that inner glow.
“Bo. Good to see you.” Was it his imagination or did Bo’s fingers brush over his palm when they separated hands?
“Got us a booth,” Bo said, doing something with his eyes that made Max think the guy had a couple of eyelashes floating around in them. “I hope that’s okay?”
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Max grunted an assent then followed Bo over to the booth. His gaze drifted over Bo’s lean form as Max wondered what it was that made Bo so…so… Bo.
“Didn’t know if you’d want tea or beer so I didn’t order you a drink.” Bo slid into the booth and looked up at Max. There was something in his hazel eyes, a question or doubt, Max wasn’t sure but it didn’t look right in those big eyes. “You drank some of both when we played cards and, well, I didn’t know how long it’d take you to get here.”
The smile on Bo’s faced dimmed slightly as Max remained silent. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, he was simply attempting to work out what was going on with Bo. Which was a waste of time, because he’d only met the man once and didn’t know him, not really.
“Actually,” Bo frowned and flicked a glance at the table before looking back at Max while he slid into his seat. Bo folded his hands together on top of the faded red tablecloth.
Max noticed the white tint to the man’s knuckles. Was Bo nervous? “I wasn’t certain you’d show up.”
The fluttering in his stomach had to be due to lack of food, Max decided. And as for the way his heart pinched, well of course he felt bad for worrying Bo. Max didn’t like to hurt people, not that he thought he had the power to hurt Bo, but still. He tried his easy smile and was relieved when Bo answered with a rather tremulous grin. At least it was better than a frown.
Max plucked off his cowboy hat and set it beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back as he politely set Bo straight. “‘Course I came. I wouldn’t have said I’d be here then not show up.” Actually, it kind of irritated him that Bo would think so little of him.
They’d spent hours talking and playing cards— but that doesn’t mean Bo knows me any more than I know him. “Besides, you said chicken fried steak. Those are magic words to a hungry cowboy.”
Bo’s lips tipped up more, setting off dimples in his cheeks Max didn’t recall seeing before. “Ah, got it. If I want to spend some time with a friend who happens to be a cowboy, all I have to do is mention chicken fried steak. Shame I didn’t learn that sooner.”
The waitress appeared before Max could think of a witty reply, which was good
because his brain seemed to have shut off as soon as he saw those dimples. Why, he hadn’t a clue, but he felt warmer, too. Maybe the restaurant had the heat running, although he didn’t think that was necessary considering he hadn’t even needed a jacket this evening. He glanced up and spotted a vent but didn’t feel any heated air coming from it. Probably it was on a MILES TO GO
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timer or something then, though he couldn’t recall feeling a warm draught at all. He’d just sort of heated up from the inside out, but that didn’t make any sense. It must have had something to do with being middle-aged.
They placed their orders, waving away the menus beforehand. Max fiddled with his napkin as he waited for his glass of sweet tea to be brought out. His throat was unaccountably dry considering he didn’t feel thirsty.
Bo propped his elbows on the table, his eyes widening when it wobbled under his
weight. He jiggled it as if making sure the table would hold then shrugged. “So, Max, have you had any wild and exciting adventures since the last time I saw you?”
Max nearly snorted at that, which would have made a hell of a mess considering he’d just started to take a big gulp of his tea. Obviously Bo didn’t know him at all if he thought Max ever did anything that could be described as wild or adventurous.
Max swallowed his drink, his eyes watering when he tried not to cough as an ice cube slid right on down his throat with the sweet liquid. It was no use, and he slapped a hand to his mouth as he hacked and spluttered. Bo’s eyes lit up, the laughter starting there before it spilled from his lips.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t sound sorry to Max. Max’s cheeks burned as one of his worst fears came true.
Bo’s laughter drew the attention of the other diners, and Max wanted to melt right into the vinyl bench. Shit like this was why he didn’t want to go out much in public. He hated being the cause for other people’s amusement. Max had learned at an early age that being mocked and snickered at hurt like hundreds of tiny barbed hooks burying into his heart.
His hand trembled as he carefully set the glass down. Spilling his tea would just add more fuel to the fire of his personal hell. The best he could hope for now was a dignified exit.
Max reached for his hat even as he started scooting towards the edge of the booth, keeping his gaze averted from Bo. He muttered something about needed to
