Which was why he didn’t see Bo move until the man was right there, blocking his exit, making it impossible for Max to stand. Max’s jaw dropped open when he looked up at Bo, then nearly hit the floor when the blond started to sit. Max didn’t have any choice but to slide MILES TO GO
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back over to the far side of the bench, pressing his shoulder against the wall there, or he’d have himself a lap full of Bo. He managed to plop his hat on the table and cringed inwardly.
His momma would have walloped his ass for that.
Max fingered the brim for a minute, trying to smother his embarrassment. His cheeks were so hot they stung, but he forced himself to cock his head and look at Bo out of the corner of his eye. “I should go.” Before he did anything else that got him laughed at.
Bo shook his head. He leaned over, his shoulder brushing Max’s, and lifted the hat off the table. A slight snap of his wrist sent the Stetson over the table and onto the seat Bo had been occupying seconds before. Bo sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.
Defensive body language. Max had read that in one of those crime books he’d bought at the grocery store. But what does Bo have to be defensive about? Maybe that was a load of horse shit.
Maybe it doesn’t mean anything except he wanted to cross his arms. But when Max turned his head further to see Bo better, there was that same doubtful expression on the blond’s face, along with what Max thought was guilt. Bo’s next words confirmed it.
“I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to leave. I-I didn’t know it’d upset you if I laughed.” Bo nibbled his lower lip for a second, leaving the flesh a deeper rose colour when he released it. “I honestly thought you’d laugh, too. I’m sorry.”
Some of the tightness in Max’s chest eased even as he acknowledged to himself that a normal person wouldn’t have got all butt hurt over something so stupid. It was just more proof that he was a total mess when it came to being like everyone else.
Bo nudged him and looked increasingly worried. “You know, that whole ‘laugh and the world laughs with you’ thing? I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing with you. Come on,”
Bo pleaded softly in a voice that seemed to feather over Max’s skin. “Help me out here, Max.
I didn’t mean to screw up. I-I was hoping we could be friends. I guess after that night we played cards and got on so well, I thought, maybe…”
Well now I feel like a complete jerk. Max finally unstuck his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth long enough to lick at his equally dry lips. He was kind of afraid to try drinking his tea again. His voice scraped past parched tissue and sounded squeakier than he would have liked, but at least he finally got the words out.
“It’s fine. I just…” Max lifted his head a little and peered around the room, unable to keep looking into Bo’s intense eyes. “I get nervous, don’t feel comfortable around many people.” Max gave in and picked up the glass, slick with moisture. He concentrated on not MILES TO GO
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dropping it while he took another sip, this time barely parting his lips to keep from choking on another ice cube.
It almost didn’t matter. He could feel Bo watching him. Max cut the man a glance as he swallowed and nearly spluttered all over again when Bo licked his lips. Unless Max was wrong, Bo was watching his throat as Max drank. He forced the sweet liquid down and kept his eyes on Bo in what he hoped was a discreet manner. Max took another swallow. Bo’s gaze seemed to follow the liquid’s path right down Max’s throat, which was weird, and a little unsettling. Maybe Bo’s just really thirsty, too.
If Max’s hand shook a bit when he set his glass back down, he figured it was from nerves. He was still concerned about doing something foolish. It had nothing to do with the way Bo’s cheeks had pinked or the strange light in his eyes that made it look like Bo glowed from the inside out.
Thirsty, Max thought, and he reached across the table for Bo’s sweaty glass of tea.
Instead of picking it up, Max slid it over until it bumped Bo’s fingertips. Bo blinked and shook his head then turned away to grab his drink.
“Thanks,” Bo murmured.
Max nodded. The man obviously needed to whet his whistle. “It’s good tea, not too sweet.” And could he get more pathetic, talking about tea instead of something a little more interesting? Max racked his brain and finally found something not so asinine to talk about.
“So, what have you been up to? You on your way home?”
What tension had remained in Max slowly bled out as he sat back and listened to Bo talk. The man sure could chatter, which Max was glad of since it saved him from having to try to do much talking.
After they finished their dinner and were waiting for the waitress to bring them their slices of pecan pie, Bo leant back and rubbed his stomach. He’d moved back across the table shortly before their chicken fried steaks had arrived, and now Max found himself watching for the reappearance of Bo’s hand as he made slow circles over his belly.
What with the table in the way, Max could only catch sight of
