Page 125 of I'm Your Guy
“Go on,” Buck orders. He puts his hands on my shoulders and steers me toward the bar. “Go around the line. You got this.”
So I try. “Excuse me. Pardon me.” I slip between eager sports fans, working my way toward the row of hockey players. When I’m almost there, a tan guy in a suit with very white teeth gives me a cautious frown, as if to discourage me from approaching the players’ side of the tables.
Tommaso rises from his barstool and uses one of his strong forearms to sort of bulldoze that guy out of the way. Then he grabs me by the jacket and pulls me toward him.
Later, I’ll replay this in my mind. Can you blame me? It’s a scorching-hot move. But in the moment, all I can do is collide with the starched perfection of his shirt collar as he folds me into the hug that I’ve needed for days.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he huffs into my ear. “Were you really going to leave town?”
“I tried,” I admit, distantly aware of Rigo’s hoot of approval from several yards away. “But here I am anyway. Good game, by the way.”
He chuckles and holds me tighter.
I inhale the scent of his shower soap and let myself enjoy it. Only one thing bothers me, though. “Jersey? Are we causing a spectacle?”
“Nah,” he says, rubbing my back. “Look.”
Reluctantly, I peel myself out of his embrace. And when I turn my head, I see that the crowd is facing the other way. Hudson Newgate has arrived. He and a cute blond guy are being escorted through the throngs toward the signing station. But it’s slow going, because every person in this bar wants to give them a back-pat or a high five.
“The man of the hour,” one of the other hockey players says. “Make room, boys.”
“He can have my spot,” Tommaso says. “I got things to do.”
I’m hoping one of those things is me. His teammates turn to look at us, and Tommaso’s big hand is still clutching my jacket possessively.
Their gazes drop to his hand. They totally notice.
But Tommaso doesn’t. He tows me out of the players’ zone, around a giant potted plant, and toward the far end of the bar. It’s the only quiet place in this whole establishment, because it’s hidden from the action.
Then he pulls out a barstool for me and waits.
My mind is a sluggish, romantic mess, but I take a seat.
He yanks out another stool and puts his hot self onto it. Then he turns to me with a serious frown. “Look, I know why you left. But it was a real wakeup call for me. I can’t even begin to guess what you and my mother talked about all night, but I let her know how much I care about you. I’m not incapable of being honest. I’m just slow.”
I swallow hard.
He notices and waves a hand at the bartender. “Could we have two Cosmos, please?”
Omigod. I press my hands to my mouth and laugh as the bartender—a total bear with a Cougars jersey on—blinks. “Uh, yup. No problem, pal. Great game tonight.”
“Thanks, man. I do my best.”
When he moves down the bar, I lean closer to Tommaso. “You’re killing me right now. I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove, but I’m convinced.”
He shrugs. “You made me a Cosmo the first night I fucked everything up, and you never got to finish yours. And I’m trying to undo all the stupid shit I did before. Is it working?”
“You’re basically killing it,” I tell him, and he gives me a faint smile. “Look, I know you’re trying. And I’m rooting for you one hundred percent. But even if you’re making big strides, I’ve still got all my own issues. I’m not sure I can afford to stay in Colorado.”
“I get that,” he says. “But I’d wait for you. As long as it takes.”
“Jersey.” I swallow a gulp of air. “You shouldn’t say things like that. We just met, like, two months ago. And if you’re really doing this—if you’re going to accept yourself and live your truth—there are a lot of great guys in the world who’d form a line as long as that one…” I wave a hand toward the throngs of people queued up to meet Newgate. “…to try to date you.”
His rolls his big brown eyes. “You aren’t listening, Carter. You’re not some free sample that I tasted in order to decide whether I like dudes. You are the dude. The one who made me realize I want to change my life. So that I can have you.”
I just gape at him. The bartender picks that moment to slide two glasses across the bar to us. I pick mine up and take a gulp, wondering if this is a fever dream.
“Are you listening now?” Tommaso asks me. He picks up his drink, tastes it, and makes a face.
