Page 149 of I'm Your Guy
The minute I get Carter’s text, I’m plunking my beer down on a waiter’s tray and hustling for the hotel ballroom’s doors. I’ve been on another road trip, and it’s been four days since I’ve seen his face.
I’d rather greet him naked in my bedroom, and not overdressed at this boondoggle. But we can’t always get everything we want.
“Whoa, whoa,” Tate says, stepping in front of me. “Not so fast. They’re going to serve the first course in five minutes.”
Was he guarding the door? Jesus. “I know that. But my date just arrived, and I need to find him.”
“Well, okay,” he says in the barely tolerant voice of a middle-school hall monitor. “But hurry back.”
By the time I make it to the top of the carpeted staircase, Carter—dressed to the nines—is climbing toward me, a smile on his face. “Sorry I’m late!”
“It’s fine.” I pull him into a hug, swiping a kiss across his smooth jaw. “Good meeting?”
“Very good. She’s going to be a fun client. Eighty-six years old, and more energetic than a poodle on caffeine.” He takes a step back and holds out his arms, inviting me to examine his outfit. “Is this okay? Not too much?”
He’s wearing a tux, like I am. But his is a deep-plum color that sets off his hair.
“Oh, damn.” I drop my voice. “You look very fuckable. It’s going to be a long night.”
He grins. “Haven’t worn a tux since art school. I figure if there are enough of these events, I’ll save up and get a black one.”
“This one works for me.” I take him by the elbow. “Now come with me. They’re serving the first course in a minute. If the appetizers they passed around are anything to go by, I think the food will be terrific.”
“It should be,” he says as I escort him into the ballroom. “How much did you say people were paying to eat dinner with the team?”
“Two grand a head.”
He whistles. “I guess that’s good. More money for heart-disease research.”
“Yeah. But see how lucky you are?” I point at my chest. “You’re getting my company for free most nights. And you don’t have to wear a tux.”
“Hashtag blessed. Now where’s my table? I know you’re supposed to move around the room.”
“We get to eat the first course together,” I tell him, steering him toward Table 3, where I’ve saved him a seat. “Here.” I pull out his chair.
He’s greeted by some of my teammates, including Newgate and Gavin, who we see a lot of these days.
“Nice tux, Carter,” Stoney says. “You look great tonight.”
“Thanks.” Carter shakes out his napkin and drops it into his lap. “Likewise.”
“Do you really think so?” Stoney asks, straightening his tie. “Do you think I look good enough to vote for?” He actually bats his eyelashes at Carter. “I’m in third place, and I could really use your support.”
Carter gives me a confused glance.
“There’s an online competition going on at Sportsballs,” I explain. “Hottest local athlete. Stoney wants the title bad.”
“It’s the sexiest local athlete,” Stoney corrects me. “Don’t you think I deserve to win?”
“Sure, man.” I point at the bottle of red wine a waiter is offering and wait as he pours some into my glass. “As long as you realize you’re volunteering yourself for the spank bank of every queer dude in Colorado.”
“Work it, Stoney,” Newgate says. “Work it hard. Someone’s going to win. Why not you?”
“That’s right,” Stoney says. “Why not me?”
“I have to see this contest,” Carter says, pulling out his phone.
“Just click the banner at the top of their website,” Stoney says.
