But there was something about Max…Bo had thought he’d give it another try that night at Cowboys. He had held out great hopes for once in his life not for a quick fuck, but for something more, something that would last longer, be more intense. Between thinking about the way Chance and Rory seemed so perfect for each other, and the way he’d just whored around and studiously avoided anything serious, Bo realised he really, really wanted a relationship, one that was special and would last. It scared him, but he wanted it. Bo was tired of running from commitment, running from himself, running from his past.
Of course his plans to seduce Max into loving him had backfired at Cowboy’s. First off, Max had seemed as oblivious to Bo’s charms as he had been before. The little flushes and stutters Bo had come to realise were from nervousness, not a raging attraction to Bo. Still, Bo had watched Max closely and noticed the man didn’t check out anyone else—not the women in the place, and there’d been a couple who were pretty attractive, and not the men, who Bo would have catalogued as okay but not particularly impressive.
Especially not once Max had walked in. There was just something intense about Max despite his easy-going smile that drew Bo to the man. It made Bo want to giggle and act all coy like some teenage girl or something. It was that fluttery nervousness that had almost brought the dinner at Cowboy’s to an end before it truly got started. Bo really hadn’t meant to laugh at Max, he hadn’t, but he had been so fucking nervous, and he’d laughed like a fucking idiot, and that right there had been the end of his plan to seduce Max. It had been all MILES TO GO
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Bo could do to prevent Max from leaving at that point. Bo had been willing to do anything to keep Max there, but he was pretty sure throwing himself at the man’s feet and begging would have only embarrassed Max more.
So Bo had been on his best behaviour, and once they had got past that uncomfortable situation, they’d got on like best buddies for life. Which hadn’t been exactly what Bo wanted.
Friends were all well and good, but he’d wanted that lover bit thrown in there too. And so he’d come up with the idea of having Max come to San Antonio and visit him. He’d figured that would give him time to work on Max, see if he was interested or not, because Bo hadn’t been able to squash the hope that Max was interested and just really shy about showing it.
But Max had turned him down flat, using an excuse Bo didn’t quite buy. He’d tried to shrug off his hurt feelings; it was after all entirely possible Max was a hell of a lot more dedicated to his job than Bo ever would have been. In the end, the answer was the same—
Max wouldn’t or couldn’t come to San Antonio, and Bo had gone home and nursed his wounded pride along with that strange burning in his chest. That particular sensation got worse every time he thought about never having Max, and by the time Bo realised he didn’t have some weird-ass heartburn induced by thoughts of Max, he’d already been trying to dance off the funky mood that had hounded him for days.
Even once he realised he was sort of really fond of Max, Bo hadn’t stopped dancing.
What was the point? Wasn’t like Max was interested in him, but maybe Bo could find someone who was, at least for a few hours and pretend it meant more than just getting off.
Pretend he wasn’t settling, something he’d been doing for years but only then realising, thanks to his attraction to Max. Bo had set about putting on his most flirtatious manner, but every time it got right down to it, he’d felt off in some way he couldn’t quite describe.
Picking up tricks hadn’t ever bothered him before.
Bo had finally got fed up with his own newly developed morals or conscious or
whatever the fuck it was that was keeping him from getting laid, and he’d thoroughly stomped down everything but his body’s need for release. He told himself to quit being so picky, to just take the next offer he got, but he’d already turned down most everyone who’d been interested.
When Bo had just about given up on finding someone, anyone, and was seriously considering leaving, he’d seen the man watching him. It hadn’t taken more than a smile from Bo to have the big blond striding towards him. Bo remembered the shudder that had rippled MILES TO GO
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over him then. Had it been a warning rather than the desire he’d taken it for? Probably, but Bo had been desperate to forget how alone he was.
As soon as the big blond was close enough, Bo had noticed the cold look in the guy’s eyes. He had figured it for the disdain a lot of closeted men felt for their one-offs, or for themselves for seeking out another man. Well, he’d been wrong about that shithead, and it’d almost cost him his life. There was no use dwelling on that mistake.
There was another mistake he was thrilled about, though. Bo had been wrong about Annabelle and Max getting down and dirty. There was no way she’d have been so calm about walking in on Bo stroking off Max this morning if she was Max’s lover. And Max had definitely liked the feel of Bo’s hand on his dick.
If Max had liked
