Page 5 of Patchwork
He’s young though. Twenty-five, according to the birth date he wrote down on the form. Besides, the way he looks, I’m sure he’s sick and tired of guys panting after him like idiots.
“Thanks.” He takes the care instructions and folds them up to shove in his pocket. “Listen, I’m in town for one more night, would you want to grab a drink when you’re done here?”
The question punches the air out of my lungs, and I’m sure I look like a fish the way my mouth opens and closes a few times while I try to find the word “yes”among the silent thanks I’m sending up to whoever’s smiling down on me in this wide, wonderful universe.
“A drink? Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Cool.” He smiles and plucks my card off of the table. “I’ll text you?” He waves the card at me questioningly and I nod.
“Yeah, that’s my cell. Shoot me a text and tell me where to meet you.”
“Will do.” He winks, then saunters off. I watch him until he disappears into the crowd.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I startle.
“Dude, do you know who that was?” Arrow asks.
“Who?”
“Onyx Hart. He’s the lead guitarist for Black Sheep. They’re an alt rock band out of Seattle. Grunge isn’t dead just yet.”
I sputter a laugh and my shoulders sag. Great, just when I thought I was about to get lucky. Maybe he just doesn’t want to spend the night drinking alone or he wants to talk about tattoos more. One thing’s for sure, a literal fucking rockstar isn’t interested in hooking up with a middle-aged biker like me.
Chapter 3
4 YEARS AGO
HERO
Thebarhetextedme to meet him at is just around the corner from the convention center. Excitement churns in my gut, chasing away any lingering exhaustion from the long-ass day I just had. I’m still convinced that this isn’t anything more than a friendly meet-up, but my brain doesn’t seem to be delivering that message to the rest of my body. My half-hard cock strains in my jeans and my heart beats just a little too fast as I step inside the bar and do a quick sweep for Onyx.
It’s a little busy, but not so much that I would miss him if he were here, so I snag an empty table to wait for him. I tap my foot lightly and open the text from him again just to make sure I have the right place, even though I’ve already checked twice. Yup, I’m in the right place, and it’s barely past the time I told him I’d be here, so now I need to try to relax and wait. I fiddle with my phone a little more and then open my music app.
Why does it feel like a strange invasion of privacy to type Black Sheep into the search bar? His music is public, it’s notlike I’m reading his diary or anything. I adjust the volume on my phone so I won’t blare it to the whole bar, then click on the top song. Arrow was right, it does have classic 90s grunge vibes—NirvanameetsSoundgarden. I pay particular attention to the guitar, and it’s not hard. Onyx has fucking skill.
“I guess you figured me out.” His voice behind me has me fumbling my phone. It clatters loudly on the table.
I jump out of my chair and give him a sheepish smile, extending my hand like I’m going for a handshake before realizing how fucking dumb that is. Onyx looks at it, looks back at my face, then chuckles and shakes my hand. Instead of letting it go right away though, he keeps his hand wrapped around mine and steps close enough to bring us chest to chest.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
My eyes fall on his pouty lips and the heat of his body seeps into mine, making my cock swell and my heart race.
“Huh?” I grunt stupidly.
He laughs again. “My band. Do you like the music?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, I was a teenager when grunge was popular the first time, so it’s nostalgic as hell for me and you guys definitely nailed the sound.” I finally remember that my phone is still playing on the table, but I can’t seem to make myself let go or move away from him to do anything about it.
“Thanks.” Onyx grins and shakes the stray strands of hair out of his eyes. “So… drinks?”
“Yeah,” I agree readily. “What do you want? I’ll buy.”
“Whatever’s on tap is fine.”
“You got it.” I reluctantly pull my hand out of his and make my way up to the bar.
While I wait for the bartender to pour our drinks, I glance over my shoulder at Onyx again. He looks so effortlessly cool, and so fucking sexy. Maybe he’s looking to slum it for the night or work out some daddy issues. Whatever made him give me asecond look, I’m not going to waste any energy overanalyzing it. He said he’s out of here again tomorrow, so I’ll take this one night and make it worth remembering.
