ADAM scrubbed both hands over his face and stifled a groan. He glanced at Bo, who sat on the floor opposite him at the stone coffee table, frowning at the workbooks spread before him. His pencil tapped in an irritated rhythm against the pages.
Everything about Bo’s concentration and drive to succeed during this grueling cram session drove Adam to the brink of insanity. Not out of jealousy, even though his own abilities paled in comparison to Bo’s, but because his passion, resilience, and dedication were so goddamn sexy.
Over the past month, Bo had blossomed under the stress that weighed Adam down. His excitement was palpable. It lit up the room and lifted Adam’s spirits unlike anything else. Anytime he wanted to give up, one look at Bo would ease his frustrations and remind him why he’d committed to this in the first place.
Because it meant the world to Bo.
“You feeling as fried as I am?”
Bo’s frown deepened into a scowl. He dropped his pencil and met Adam’s stare. “Who cares how much Jack spent on his new car? And why does it matter that it was $2,400 less than five times the $5,000 selling price of his old one? What benefit does the ability to figure this out provide for my future?”
Chuckling, Adam tucked his thumb under the cover of his book and flipped it closed. Getting his GED might be a dream come true for Bo, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the stress. He just handled it better than Adam because it came with a prize at the end. One that meant much more to Bo.
“I’m sure they’d say all this ‘knowledge’ adds to our critical thinking skills or some shit like that.”
“I don’t think my critical thinking skills have any more room to grow. I’m at capacity.” Bo moaned and let his forehead drop to the table. “I’m too old to learn high school math. My brain doesn’t work that way anymore.”
The mutual teasing about the gap in their age hadn’t let up with time. In fact, as they grew more comfortable together, the razzing only increased. There was no doubt Bo’s remark had been meant as a proverbial jab to his elderly ribs.
Adam stretched his leg under the table and gave Bo’s bent knee a shove with his foot. “Watch it with the ‘too old’ comments, pipsqueak. How do you think I feel? At least you’ve been helping Lulu with her homework all these years. Keeping your exposure level up. The last time I gave any of this shit a second thought, you were still in diapers.”
“I was not.” Bo’s head whipped up and his eyes flashed with mock indignation. “Are you trying to say I was still wetting my pants at six years old?”
A bark of laughter rose up Adam’s throat. “Your addition’s a little off there, Einstein. By your calculations, I was taking freshman math at nineteen.”
“Nuh-uh. You would’ve been fourteen or fifteen. Which means I would’ve been….” Bo tapped his pencil against the thick black upper frame of his browline glasses. His head tilted as his clearly overmathed brain struggled to work out the simple equation.
“If I was fifteen, you would’ve been at the terrible-two stage. As stubborn as you are, I bet your folks knew better than to try and potty train you early. So, yes, my guess is you were definitely still pissing your pants the last time I did high school algebra.”
Bo’s jaw sagged. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his brows drew together. “Jeez. You really are old.”
Before Adam could retort with an exaggerated show of offense, Bo shot him one of his patented belly-twisting, heart-stopping grins. Adam huffed out a calming breath to get himself under control before returning the smile. “Whataya say we call it quits a bit early tonight? We’re a month into this miserable shit. Halfway done. I’d say that calls for a celebration.”
“A celebration?” Bo squinted his eyes. “I need more information before I agree to anything. You’re a man who can’t be trusted with surprises.”
Adam let his wrist go limp before pointing to his chest. He popped his brows and drew back his chin in faux shock. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you.” Bo glowered. “If you aren’t ruining my beautiful new clothes with sticky fake blood, you’re assaulting my ears with crappy music, or landing me on the wrong side of a grumpy bouncer. My tailbone is still bruised from that behemoth throwing me out on my backside.”
Guilt pinched Adam’s stomach. He hadn’t meant for Bo to get tossed out of his favorite club the previous weekend. He was so used to waltzing through the entrance of 1 OAK at the Mirage unchecked—the velvet rope lifted and his path cleared without question—that he hadn’t considered his tagalong would warrant different treatment.
It had been meant as a surprise, so he hadn’t told Bo where they were going that night. The goal was to show him the glitz and glam of the Vegas Strip, one favorite haunt at a time. But Bo had forgotten his ID. The bouncer didn’t catch up with them until Adam was already at the bar ordering drinks, and because Bo could easily pass for underage in the dim kaleidoscopic lighting, he’d been thrown out on his ass before Adam even knew he was missing.
“Okay, okay, fine.” Adam harrumphed. “No surprises. How about plain old dinner? We could hit up Giada for old time’s sake.”
Bo slammed his workbook shut and smirked. “I’m game, but only if there’s no fake blood in my immediate future.”
Adam held up his trusty three-finger Boy Scout salute. “On my honor.”
“I should get my head examined for trusting a curmudgeon like you not to tell a lie.” Rolling his eyes, Bo rose to his feet. “Come on, old man. Let’s get some food.”
AS always, Giada was hopping. The host recognized Adam and made quick work of finding them a table, although the location was less than optimal. It sat smack dab in the middle of five others and held no semblance of privacy.
“Any chance we could wait for a booth in the back?” Adam side-eyed a group of twentysomethings sharing a meal a few feet from the two-top the host had led them to. One of the young men had narrowed his gaze on Adam and was whispering to the guy beside him. He’d been made. “We don’t mind sitting at the bar for a bit.”
“Nonsense.” The host pulled out the chair closest to Bo and smiled as he gestured for him to sit. “Ms. De Laurentiis would be upset if I didn’t seat you immediately. This is one of our finest tables, Mr. Littrell. It offers a prime view.”
Not wishing to make a scene, Adam nodded and thanked the host. Bo joined him at the table when he sat, oblivious to Adam’s concern.
Bo’s teeth raked over his lip as he scanned the menu. “So are you going to get the same thing you got last time? Or try something new?”
“I’ve had everything on the menu at least twice. It’s all phenomenal.”
Adam smiled when Bo’s expression turned serious and contemplative. No doubt he was attempting mental calculations with his overworked brain to assess his financial situation. Adam had learned to be careful when they went out to eat together so as not to hurt Bo’s wallet if he couldn’t convince the man to let him pay. This time, considering the restaurant he’d chosen, Bo would just have to bend. “This was my idea, so I’m footing the bill. You know the rules. Order whatever you want.”
Bo opened his mouth to argue—an inevitability Adam found as adorable as it was infuriating—but before he could get a word out, the two young men who had recognized Adam appeared at their table. Bo cocked his head in silent question when Adam’s face slipped into the hardened countenance of the Beast.
“Holy shit. I knew I was right. You’re really him, aren’t you? You’re the Beast.” The towheaded, pimple-faced man who had first spotted Adam bounced on his heels. “I’m a huge fan, man. You’re a fuckin’ legend.”
The second guy, nearly half a foot shorter than his lanky fellow, ran a hand through his dark brown locks and shoved his friend aside. He flashed a brilliant white smile as he cocked a hip against the table, blocking both Bo and the blond from Adam’s view. “We’ve met before. At an after-party following one of your title defenses a few years ago. Do you remember me? My name’s Rajesh. We had a hot encounter on the balcony of the L Suite at Mandalay Bay. You were going to take me home with you, but we got separated.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Adam clenched his jaw and glared at the beaming, cocky man leaning way too far into his personal space. No, he didn’t remember the guy. But that wasn’t saying much. How many “hot encounters” had he had on random balconies over the years? More than he could count. Not that he was proud of that fact. Especially not now. Not with Bo sitting two feet away. “Can’t say I do.”
Rajesh’s grin only grew at that response. “Oh, sure you do. You’re playing coy because you’ve got a date. But I could do you way better than this twink ever could. And I don’t require dinner first. Why don’t you take me back to your place? I can show you what a good time looks like.”
A month ago, Adam would’ve taken Rajesh up on that offer without thinking twice, but he never would’ve brought him home—that line of his story was utter bullshit. Rajesh was clearly lying. At least partially. Adam never brought sexual partners to his house. That was his sanctuary, and he didn’t do overnights.
But now? Things had changed. He wasn’t interested in some random one-night stand. His priorities had shifted. He wasn’t sure when, but he damn well knew why.
Beauregard Wilkins. That’s why.
Adam slammed his fist on the table. Cutlery and glass clinked as the wooden surface vibrated beneath his attack.
Rajesh pushed to a full standing position, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There’s my sexy Beast. Come on, honey, blow off this little bitch and let a real man take you to bed.”
“Fuck off, you—”
A very deliberate clearing of the throat drew Adam’s fuming gaze to the host, whose eyes glimmered with nervous anxiety. “S-sir? Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah, there’s a fucking problem.” Adam pointed at Rajesh. “You have ten seconds to get this piece of shit out of my sight before I pound his ass into the ground.”
Rather than scampering away as any smart human would’ve done, Rajesh blew Adam a kiss. “For your sake, I hope your little twink puts out. If he doesn’t, I’m staying at the Flamingo. Room 416.” He linked arms with the wide-eyed blond, sneered at the host, and sauntered out of the restaurant.
Bo sat like a statue, his lips curled in and his eyes bugging behind the rims of his glasses.
If there had ever been a chance Bo might give Adam a shot someday, it was gone now.
Just. Fuckin’. Great.