Page 11 of Bull's Boy

Pushing to his feet, Malcolm was stepping past him when Bull blurted out, “Do you want to go to a party?”

Malcolm frowned, then pivoted to face him. One step forward and he’d be straddling Bull’s leg. Not that he was thinking about that. Because that would be highly inappropriate.

He ran his eyes up the length of Malcolm’s jean-clad legs and slim chest, unable to help himself. He was dressed nicely, his pants a little tighter than what he normally wore to work, and his brown-and-blue, horizontally striped shirt was like a second skin, showing off just a hint of collarbone.

Fuck, he looked good.

“Right now?” Malcolm’s delicate brows furrowed adorably.

What? Oh, right, he’d just stupidly offered to take Malcolm to a party. At the Devil’s Hands Motorcycle Club’s clubhouse. Where they apparently threw the occasional sex party, and he still wasn’t sure that wasn’t what was happening that weekend.

“Uh, no.” Bull scratched at his bearded jaw, wishing there was enough space for him to stand, too, so he could put some space between them. He glanced at his lap. Yeah, never mind. Sitting was good. “This weekend. It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he added quickly. “I just… I know you’ve been sad and having a hard time lately.” He shrugged awkwardly, not sure why Malcolm was staring at him so intently. “I thought you could use some fun, is all.”

A thick silence fell over them, an unfamiliar tension seeping in. Instead of shrinking away from it, Bull sat up straighter, marveling at how he was nearly as tall as Malcolm while seated. This wasn’t him shooting his shot, but it was him doing what he could to take care of the man he cared about, no matter thatMalcolm could never return the feelings. Holding Malcolm’s beautiful eyes, he did his best to project confidence. If Malcolm trusted him with this, he’d make sure he had a good time.

“Yeah, okay,” Malcolm said slowly, voice soft. “I’m in.”

“Hey.”

“Oh, so you are alive,” Bull snarked, cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder as he pushed open his front door.

He’d forgotten to leave the porch light on when he left for work, so he’d fumbled with the lock for longer than he’d be admitting as he listened to his brother’s phone ring. Add to that he was exhausted, had to deal with idiots at the grocery store who couldn’t count how many items were in their cart and insisted on using the express checkout, and the new dishwasher had broken an entire tray of dishes, and yeah, he was in a bit of a mood.

Oh, and he’d made a jackass out of himself by inviting Malcolm to an MC party Bull hadn’t even technically been invited to.

“Jesus, you sound like Mom,” Marv said dryly.

“Fuck off. I’ve been texting you for a damn week, and you’ve either left me on read or given a one-word response.” Bull grabbed the handles of his cloth grocery bags and headed inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

Marv sighed. “I’ve been busy. The summer camp opens in a few weeks and needed last-minute renovations, so I’ve been juggling overseeing that with my regular shit.”

“I thought Tomas hired someone to handle camp? That guy quit already?” Bull had heard all about the new hire and how Marv hadn’t wanted the MC’s president to bring in someone to be the camp’s activities director when he’d been at his brother’s a few weeks ago, helping him lay tile in one of his bathrooms.

Marv snorted. “No, he’s still there. He’s who I’m keeping an eye on.”

There was something in his brother’s voice… A grin began to spread across his face, his bad mood already lightening. “Do youlikethis guy? Are you stalking him at camp? Should I be worried someone’s going to call the cops on you?”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Bull laughed, setting to work putting away his groceries. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“Hold on,” Bull said in a hurry but still grinning to himself at the idea of clothes-whore Marv crouching in bushes to spy on the new summer camp director. “I need your rational brain because I did something completely irrational.”

After putting the milk away, he paused, trying to figure out what noise he was hearing. It was like a soft thumping. He spun in a circle, but nothing was moving in his kitchen or the living room on the other side of his large island. The sound stopped as he stepped over and turned on the lamp next to the couch.

“You told Mom to set you up on a date?” Marv asked, bringing him back to the conversation.

“Very funny.” He wandered back into the kitchen, resuming his unpacking. “I assume she told you about her offer?”

“Probably the second after she made it.” The smile was easily detectable in his voice, the jerk not even trying to hide how funny he found Bull’s predicament.

He knew he shouldn’t have put the idea out in the universe, but he’d honestly been worried she’d set something up for at the MC’s party. Of course, after denying having done that, she immediately offered, claiming to know a lot of men who’d love to go out with him. He didn’t want to know where she was finding all these supposed men who were chomping at the bit to date him.

Maybe he should ask Ma if Mom had made a dating app profile or something. Though he couldn’t see Ma just going along with such a terrible idea.

“That’s not what I need advice about, no.” The soft thumping sound started again. It seemed to be coming from the living room. “I sort of asked a straight guy on a date. Except it’s not a date. But… it kind of sounded like it was when I offered, I think.”

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