The Backup Boyfriend

by River Jaymes

  Alec didn’t know much except that Noah had dated a man who had died of HIV, hence Noah’s commitment to the community. But the news that Dylan’s friendship with Noah had been forged through that relationship came as a complete surprise.

  In retrospect the information explained a lot about the connection between Dylan and Noah, complete opposites in many respects. From the first moment Alec had watched the two interact, he’d been curious. Alec could tell the bond went deep. He just hadn’t known why.

  Crouched by the bike, Dylan continued with his task, and Alec searched for something appropriate to say.

  “That’s a nice way to keep his memory alive,” Alec said.

  “Mmm hmm,” Dylan said, keeping his eyes on his task. “Every year on Rick’s birthday we used to take a road trip. The poker run is a way of remembering him and raising money for HIV research at the same time.”

  So not only had Dylan named his business after his dead friend, Dylan had started a fundraiser in honor of him as well. Still waters did indeed run deep. Dangerously deep.

  “Bring the Harley over here and we’ll start with an oil change,” Dylan said.

  The subtext came across loud and clear: conversation over, time to move on.

  Alec dismounted, pushed the motorcycle closer, and parked next to the Triumph.

  The next two hours came as a complete surprise and were much more entertaining than Alec would have predicted. Every time Dylan sent Alec to fetch something, Alec tried to help, but his ignorance about basic tools was impossible to hide. When Dylan had to describe what a Phillips screwdriver was, the mechanic could barely contain his laughter.

  After that, Dylan’s good-natured teasing became a part of the process. So Alec shamelessly used his photographic memory to spout random motorcycle facts he’d picked up during his research—the first time since college that Alec’s ability to recall useless information had come in handy.

  As Dylan set the bucket of used motor oil aside, Alec finally worked up the courage to ask the question that prompted today’s visit. “Tomorrow I’m planning on having a beer at Danny’s Suds and Sports and catching the football game on TV. You want to come along?”

  Alec hated that he held his breath while waiting for an answer. One of the few things he and Tyler had shared outside of work had been college football. Alec considered himself a serious fan. Tyler maintained an interest as well, enough to humor Alec, anyway. And with the start of the season tomorrow night, the first since their breakup, he couldn’t stomach the thought of watching the game alone.

  Christ, he hated rattling around an empty home.

  “When is the game?” Dylan asked.

  Dylan stood and placed the bucket of old oil on a table before returning to kneel by the motorcycle, this time right at Alec’s feet. The scent of spicy soap and musky man and motorcycle hit, reminding Alec of Dylan’s intent to pose as his new boyfriend. Alec’s nervous system sparked, his thoughts stumbling.

  “Seven o’clock,” Alec said.

  “College or pro?”

  “College.”

  “Which team?”

  Alec absently studied the sweat staining the collar of Dylan’s T-shirt and the smudge of motor oil on the back of his neck, a result of the messy process and the state of Dylan’s hands.

  “College Bay University,” Alec said.

  “The Tigers?” Dylan winced. “Somehow, I never pictured you as a glutton for punishment.”

  “I know,” Alec said, a smile overtaking his face. “But they’re local. Besides, I like cheering for the underdog.”

  “If you support the Tigers, you must get off on cheering for the losing team as well.” Dylan leaned back on his heels, bringing him closer to Alec’s legs, and sent him pointed look.

  Unfortunately, now those green eyes gazed up at him from a position that brought to mind all sorts of scenarios involving Dylan on his knees, and Alec’s body went still. His traitorous mind pictured sweat-slicked arms and messy fingers reaching out to cup Alec’s crotch. Unzipping his zipper…

  And before Alec could stop them, more graphic visions barreled past. Dylan’s callused hands stroking Alec’s cock. That pink tongue circling his head. Dylan’s mouth stretched wide around him, hot and slick and taking him deep. Alec gripping that grease-stained neck as he thrust hard, coming in the back of Dylan’s throat.

  Holy shit.

  Heart thudding painfully, Alec gave a single shake of his head and forced the images from his mind.

  Alec didn’t trust himself to date just yet. And he’d be crazy to get involved with someone looking for nothing more than a quick fuck. Alec had never been the one-night-stand type, a sure route to frustration and heartbreak. But fantasizing about an unattainable straight man?

  The epitome of ludicrous.

  Dylan gave a sharp nod. “Okay. I’ll come.”

  Alec ignored the thrill jutting through his veins at Dylan’s unintentional double entendre.

  “Good.” Alec cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll go dump the bucket.”

  He picked up the pail and headed for the used-oil barrel, feeling slightly unsteady.

  So far he’d had no trouble admiring Dylan’s drool-worthy attributes with an almost detached, clinical air, like one did of someone completely out of reach. But time had changed things. Clearly there was more to Dylan’s rough-and-tumble attitude and sharp tongue than Alec first appreciated, namely learning his bark lacked serious bite. Not to mention his dedication to his friend’s memory.

  Alec bit back a sigh. Enjoying his time with Dylan was fine. Admiring his loyalty was good too. And Alec felt no shame recognizing that the man brought a new level of standards to the phrase “sex on two legs.”

  But there was something slightly alarming the way Dylan, without even trying, pressed a hidden nerve inside Alec. A nerve he hadn’t known existed. Dylan had unlocked a sweaty, tough-guy fantasy Alec had been better off not knowing he harbored.

  And now, when he looked into Dylan’s gaze, Alec suddenly longed to see heat in those green eyes as they peered down at him from a very inappropriate position.

  Christ. And he’d thought his life couldn’t get any more screwed up.

  ~~~***~~~

  Packed, the sports bar hummed with fans hoping against hope their team could pull off the impossible and actually win a game. And if someone had told Dylan he’d wind up hanging out with a guy who knew every statistical fact about the Tigers, he’d have sworn he needed to get a life.

  Alec, however, had no shame whatsoever as he leaned closer to Dylan to be heard. “Their quarterback had a 135 passing efficiency rating last season, up from 129 the year before.”

  “Your knowledge would be more impressive if it included the stats of a winning team.”

  Alec clearly didn’t care. “So who’s your favorite?”

  “Whoever’s the best bet on the TV set.”

  “You’re a love-the-one-you’re-with kind of guy.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s sad, Dylan,” Alec said with mock sympathy. “Very sad.”

  “No.” Dylan sent his friend a huge grin. “I prefer a sure thing.”

  When the quarterback got sacked on the big screen hanging over the bar, Alec let out an exuberant groan. The dismayed Tiger fan to Dylan’s left slapped the counter, jostling his beer in the process. Dylan slid his mug and his stool an inch closer to Alec’s. Although Dylan preferred pro ball to college, he had zero regrets about coming tonight.

  Watching Alec’s reactions was almost as entertaining as the game itself.

  At halftime, Dylan turned to Alec. “How did starting the Harley go this morning?”

  “Got it on the first try.”

  Alec’s satisfied little-boy grin brought an odd flush of pleasure through Dylan’s chest. Alec had grown much more adept at turning over his motorcycle, with an eighty percent success rate of getting her going even when cold. Just like their backcountry race, every kick start of the Harley brought a flare of e
xcitement and satisfaction to Alec’s eyes.

  And why was the sight so fucking amusing?

  Probably because most of Dylan’s serious biker buddies lived fairly far away. Outside the occasional trip to a rally or an organized run, Dylan’s contact consisted of the rare phone call and a meet-up once, maybe twice, a year.

  Dylan paused and then tossed out the idea that had been churning in his head for the past several days. “You should come on the poker run with me,” Dylan said. “Plenty of awesome bikes to see.”

  Alec let out a skeptical snort. “I’ve owned my motorcycle a little over two weeks. I’m not exactly a pro.”

  “Don’t need to be. The weekend is all about fun.”

  The doubtful look on Alec’s face grew bigger. “I’d hate feeling pressured to keep up.”

  “No pressure, man,” Dylan said.

  Alec tapped his fingers on the counter. “I think I better pass.”

  The pretty brunette waitress set down two more beers and took the empty chicken-wing basket away, and Dylan sent her a nod of thanks before turning back to Alec. “Let me know if you change your mind. As I said, lots of awesome bikes to drool over.” Dylan cocked his head as he went on. “You never did tell me why you chose your Harley.”

  Alec crossed his arms. “It was an impulse buy. I’d spent some time doing research, thinking I’d choose a duo-sport because I wanted something light enough to pick up. You know”—Alec’s lips quirked as he took a bite of his French fry—“in case I fell over or anything.”

  Dylan played dumb. “Now who’d do a lame-ass thing like that?”

  Alec laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Since the first lesson, Dylan had learned that a smiling Alec was good. A laughing Alec? Even better. Alec’s refusal to participate in the poker run left Dylan feeling vaguely unsatisfied. Clearly he’d have to work on the guy and get him to change his mind.

  But before Dylan could decide how to make that happen, or why he cared so much, his cellular buzzed, and he pulled the phone from his back pocket. He eyed Noah’s incoming number and groaned, letting the call go to voice mail.

  He pointed his iPhone at Alec. “This is why I need you to say yes.”

  Alec tipped his head in confusion.

  “To keep me from killing Noah at the poker run,” Dylan went on.

  “And you thought that would provide me with incentive?” Alec said drily.

  A chuckle escaped before he could stop it. “This year Noah volunteered to be in charge cuz I want to actually enjoy myself instead of running around taking care of last-minute details. Unfortunately, he’s been driving me friggin’ crazy.”

  He never should have let his friend volunteer to head up the annual run this year. For some reason Dylan had yet to explain, the fifth anniversary of Rick’s death seemed… significant, for lack of a better description. Although he appreciated Noah stepping up to the plate, Dylan was beginning to have regrets.

  Serious regrets.

  “At least Noah’s organized,” Alec said.

  “Yeah, but his attention to detail is driving me batshit crazy.” Dylan’s lips twisted in a mix of irritation, amusement, and affection—the standard reaction triggered by his friend.

  From Alec’s earlier response, no doubt he felt the same way.

  “And Noah didn’t know how much work the event involved, so he’s been a queen bitch about the whole thing,” Dylan said.

  “I’m not surprised you two have vastly different ideas about how the weekend should play out. Noah’s as gay as they come, and you’re”—Alec waved in Dylan’s general direction, clearly struggling for the right words—“very much not.”

  Amused by Alec’s description, Dylan licked the hot wing sauce from his fingers and wiped his fingers down his jeans. “I sure as hell don’t spend as much on clothes.”

  “He does give the Kardashians a run for their money.”

  “How the hell would you know that?”

  “Don’t tell anyone.” Alec leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I hide my People magazine in the middle of my stack of medical journals.”

  Dylan tipped back his head and laughed. Apparently the good doctor’s research fetish extended to pop culture gossip as well. “Your secret is safe.”

  Alec steadily held Dylan’s gaze and set his drink down, blue eyes lit with humor. “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That reading People magazine makes me a girl.”

  Dylan pressed his lips together, smothering the smile, and gave Alec a lingering once-over as if the ridiculous statement deserved serious consideration. Alec didn’t have an overly muscular build, but the slim, well-toned physique filled out his button-down shirt just fine. Clearly, the man was in good shape. His angular face lacked any hint of femininity, but something about those blue eyes softened the features, and it wasn’t just the thick lashes. No, the effect came from an underlying openness and humility.

  A vulnerability that Dylan found strangely compelling.

  “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 shoul
ders 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.