“Handy, huh?” He did have good shoulders, and he felt like strength was important. He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t one of those big guys who was imposing just by build. He needed to work for that image. He grinned. “I guess I need to work with what I’ve got.”
“Don’t we all.” Emma stuck her tongue out at him, the piercing glinting in the lights. “Look alive. It’s your favorite customer.”
He fought his groan. Deb. The unhappily married, twenty-thousand dollar rack, perfectly coiffed Deb who thought Saul was the hottest thing since sliced bread.
She’d spent almost as much at the shop as she had on her boobs though, so he put on a smile as she walked in. “Good morning, Deb.”
“Saul. My favorite person. I came to discuss a custom project. Something personalized.”
This could be interesting. He loved custom builds. “Yeah? What are you looking for? A street bike? Mountain? Maybe a nice comfy cruiser for around town?”
“I’m thinking about something for around town. Something wonderful, maybe with a little sparkle?”
Sparkle. Oh God. He suddenly had a vision of Deb riding through town on a grownup version of a little girl’s bike; pink glitter frame, white seat, white wall tires, silver Mylar streamers flowing from the handlebars.
And telling everyone he built it.
Oh, please God, no.
“A cruiser sounds great. We could look at some stock frames, see what you like.” He pulled a book out from underneath the counter. “Mint green is really popular right now, blush, lavender, powder blue…”
“I love the idea of you making me blush, Saul darling.”
Emma made a sound vaguely like a muppet being strangled by a vampiric duck.
He grinned at her. “Deb, I’ve met your husband. He’s big enough that I know to respect him.” In fact, Deb’s husband had several inches and at least a hundred pounds on him, and Saul wasn’t about to get on his bad side, no matter how much that rack cost.
And they’d had this discussion before.
“Mint, then?”
“Very en vogue,” he said, and Emma nodded.
“Totally the hot color right now. Completely.”
“Well, all right. Let me see.” Deb came around the back side of the counter and stood close to him to flip the pages in his catalog.
He gave Emma big bug eyes and mouthed, “Really?”
She waved at him and blew him a kiss.
“How about a retro look. Like a 1950s Cadillac, you know? Mint frame, chrome fenders, white-wall tires?” It would cost her a pretty penny, but she had it.
By the time he got her spending money, he was back to planning his date. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.
6
“I’m not doing this.” Troy just couldn’t. He was too old to date.
“Bullshit you’re not.” Carter was leaning on the doorframe of his bedroom while Geoff dug through his closet like a whirling dervish. Ninety percent of his admittedly limited wardrobe was on his bed. “Do you seriously make your bed every day?”
“Have you ever been in here when it wasn’t made?”
“His bed is always made, but his closet is a disaster. When was the last time you went through this stuff, honey?” Geoff crossed the room with a pair of jeans in one hand and a button down in the other. “Do these jeans fit you?”
“Yeah…” Like a glove. “Maybe. They’ll be a little snug, I bet.”
“Oh, you have to show us.” Carter didn’t have to sound so friggin’ amused.
“Try them on, please, Troy. Carter, make yourself useful please, and find the iron and ironing board?” Geoff started putting things back on hangers and rearranging them in his closet.
“You have an ironing board?” Carter raised an eyebrow at him.
He started to answer but Geoff cut him off. “He’s Texan, baby. Of course he does.”
“I do. It’s set up in the guest room.” He’d been ironing a pair of jeans dry this morning. They had come out of the dryer a little soppy and he hated having soggy balls.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to…I don’t know…make you and Geoff mud wrestle.” Carter wandered by, muttering about insane assholes.
“Ick. Mud. What a mess. Let me see you in those jeans, honey. Turn around.” Geoff watched him in uncomfortable ways as he modeled the jeans. “Oh, those fit just right, Troy. Your ass looks fantastic. Carter, come look at Troy’s ass.”
“Geoff, man, he doesn’t have to—”
“Turn, boy, and let me see.”
Troy turned, making sure to stick his tongue out at Carter on the way.
“Oh, honey, he’s looking at your ass. He’s not paying attention.” Geoff’s grin was absolutely evil.
“Hm.” Carter hummed behind him. “Very nice.”
Geoff seemed almost gleeful. “I told you.”
“Y’all! Be good. I’m nervous enough without you hooligans talking about my butt.”
“Look, you let me pierce your dick. I can talk about your butt.” Geoff managed to appear affronted and amused all at once. “Are you going to shave or be scruffy?”
“I was thinking shaved, yeah?” He didn’t think scruffy was good for a date.
“I think Junior will appreciate a shave, yes.”
“I don’t know what you’re so nervous about, Troy. He asked you out. He’s interested. It’s not like you have to wonder.” Carter glanced at the shirts Geoff had laid out on the bed.
“I know. I just…” I’ve never done this, like this. He picked up guys at the club in Denver a couple times a year or he prayed that someone at one of the parties was available and interested for a one-off. “I’m going to shave. Someone pick a shirt.”
There was a short silence as he ducked into the bathroom, but he could hear them talking after he left.
“He’ll be okay, baby. It’s just… something new.”
Troy sighed softly. Carter was right. He was being a dipshit. There was nothing to be worried about. This was a date—most likely supper and a movie at the theater. No big deal.
He shaved, making sure he took care in cleaning himself up, checking his scalp to make sure it was nice and smooth. Then he put on a little smell-good, deodorant, and his watch. Now he just needed his shirt.
“Y’all pick a shirt out for me yet?”
Geoff was leaning against Carter, and it was Carter who answered. “We like the gray or the pinstripe button downs. But any of those are fine.”
“And roll the sleeves to show off your ink. Junior likes it.” Geoff smiled at him.
“It’s great ink.” What wasn’t to show off? “Soon we get to do more, hmm?” He grabbed the gray—it was comfortable, silky. Classy, in that redneck tuxedo sort of way.
“Maybe another week without cigarettes, right Carter?”
“Five days, in fact.”
“You miss them still?” Carter asked
Troy nodded. “Every goddamn day.” But he needed the release of the ink more than the nicotine.
“What time is it?” Geoff grabbed Carter’s wrist to look at the watch there. “Oh. Baby. We have to go. You don’t want to be here when Junior gets here, do you?”