Like talking to himself didn’t already do a good enough job.
After dropping the wrecker’s keys that he’d ended up taking home onto his toolbox, Ethan headed over to his office to plug in his phone. Two days in a row he’d been too distracted to even charge the damn thing.
Before he went back to the truck he had been working on the day before, Ethan set up and then clicked on the coffee maker, waiting impatiently for that first dose that would help him clear his head. Minutes later, he poured a cup, not even waiting for it to cool before he sipped anxiously.
A few minutes later, after downing one full cup and now armed with his oversized mug, he surveyed the truck that had taken up a considerable amount of his time this last week. As it turned out, the twins were hard on their vehicles, and that usually meant one or both of their trucks were sitting in the shop these days. This week it was Brendon’s.
Before he could muster up the strength to get to work, the song on the radio changed to End of My Rope by Trapt and Ethan suddenly felt every single hour of sleep he had missed over the course of the last month. Including last night.
Considering he’d been nice and buzzed, he had expected to pass out easily. No such luck. With his brain on overload from the incident with Beau in the truck, Ethan had been hard pressed to sleep for more than just a few minutes at a time. Dragging his ass out of bed that morning was nearly impossible, as was getting his body moving.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to immerse himself in an engine, he wanted to take a break. A lengthy one. Embracing the exhaustion for the first time in months, Ethan moved over to the old dilapidated desk that was used to hold spare tools and after making enough room, he took a seat on its scarred surface, his legs hanging over the edge, his feet still touching the floor.
Out of habit, he had propped open the main door when he came in, and it wasn’t long before he heard tires crunching on gravel. Please don’t let it be Blake. Ethan wasn’t sure he could handle another confrontation with the guy. Not yet. Hell, he hoped not ever.
Sipping his coffee, he waited patiently for whoever his visitor was to make their appearance. He didn’t have to wait long, and the moment Beau stepped through the door, Ethan’s breath lodged in his chest. If he didn’t get over this attraction, Ethan feared he was going to need some respiratory equipment just to stay alive. He had been robbed of breath more times than he could count in recent days just from the mere sight of Beau.
This time was no different from any of the others.
“Mornin’.” Beau stared at him and then back out the door before turning back. Ethan just continued to look at him. The memories of last night, the drugging kisses he had shared with the sexy man standing just a few yards away… it was more than his over processed brain could handle at the moment.
“You got the keys to the wrecker?” Beau asked, stopping only a couple of steps into the shop.
Ethan regarded him for a moment and then blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, “Want a cup of coffee?”
Coffee? What the fuck was wrong with him? The better answer would’ve been a simple “yes” and nothing more.
A sexy smile tipped the corners of Beau’s mouth and a shudder coursed down Ethan’s spine.
“Sure,” he said, nodding his head toward the office. “Is it made?”
“I probably oughtta make another pot,” Ethan said, not bothering to get up. He was too tired to move. Never mind the fact that he didn’t want to get closer to Beau. Not any closer than he would have to. Because at this point, he couldn’t be held responsible for his own actions.
It wasn’t enough that his brain was on overload, but now his body was as well. On top of that, just coming up with enough energy to maintain a safe emotional distance from the man was more than he was up for right now. It felt like he’d been doing it for months.
Now that he thought about it, Ethan realized he had been trying to stay away from Beau for months. No wonder he was tired. The guy wasn’t all that easy to resist.
Ethan watched Beau slip into the office, disappearing from view for a couple of minutes. To pass the time, he stared down at his hands, flipping them over repeatedly, hardly seeing the work roughened skin or his short, clipped fingernails.
“I know it seems like I’m always asking you this, but are you all right?” Beau asked when he joined him once again, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans.
Ethan looked at Beau. Actually looked at him, unable to say anything in response to his question. It seemed odd that Beau was always asking him that; however, it was even stranger that he seemed to be the only one. It was almost as though Ethan had successfully isolated himself from the rest of society to the point people didn’t even bother to see how he was doing anymore.