Page 19

19

MASON

O nce I got back in my rig, I sat behind the wheel and replayed our heated escapade from last night and this morning over and over in my head. I had such an amazing time with Connor, and I hadn’t had that type of passion or pleasure in a very long time. It was more than just infatuation; I wanted to be with him, to learn more about him.

I left La Grande in a melancholy mood but needed to shake off my lusty thoughts. My next delivery was in Lewiston, Idaho, and from there, I would head north, remaining in Idaho up through Moscow, Coeur d’Alene, and Post Falls and eventually to Spokane, Washington. That was the culmination of the freight trip. I was still ahead of schedule, so I decided to spend the night in Coeur d’Alene before the short trip to Spokane the next day. After that final delivery I’d check with my freight broker for additional paperwork.

The highways to Coeur d’Alene could be slow due to winter weather. Snow typically began in late October in northern Idaho, and driving through the Coeur d’Alene Reservation often brought conditions I preferred to avoid. However, I was confident I could make the stop tonight without issue. I had planned to shower and get cleaned up at another travel center close by to remove the dried evidence Connor and I had produced earlier.

My final delivery to Eastern Washington happened the next day. It rained and was in the upper thirties, making it too warm for snow. The heater in my rig kept me at a comfortable seventy-five degrees, which let me drive without wearing a parka until I needed to leave the comfort of my truck. I planned on staying in Spokane overnight and decided to treat myself to a nice dinner. My broker was working on my next trip, and until I received the papers, I had the night to myself.

I had made calls earlier in the day while on the road, making reservations to park my rig at a commercial lot and a dinner reservation at one of my favorite restaurants. Since I’d been through Spokane on previous trips, I’d discovered a couple of fine dining establishments I liked to frequent. I figured once I was parked, I’d change and call a rideshare to go downtown.

As promised, I texted Connor to let him know I’d made it safely through Idaho and was now in Washington state. He didn’t text back immediately, but I figured he’d probably respond later.

I’d spent many years as a trucker. I had been focused and driven, but I was beginning to feel restless. I was looking for something different, yet being a trucker was all I knew. I liked to experience things outside the boring box my rig sometimes confined me to. Having nice vacations and going out to fancy dinners helped my mental well-being. Connor also helped by injecting his life into mine.

I changed into fresh jeans, anavy blue button-down collared shirt, and my nicest boots.A black leather jacket finished the look. The rideshare was prompt, and I got to the restaurant right on time. I liked to treat myself occasionally in larger city bistros, taking in the high-end atmosphere, superior service, and prices that matched.

Dinner was outstanding. I enjoyed a charred romaine salad, a medium-rare steak, and a loaded baked potato. I accompanied the meal with a superb 2018 Cabernet Sauvignon from the Columbia Valley. I took my time to let the meal settle and decided I didn’t want to head back to my semi yet. A thought suddenly came to mind.

I pulled out my smartphone and searched for bars nearby that catered to gay and bi men. As luck would have it, there was one: The Buckhorn. The name invoked a country-western vibe, and I was up for a quick nightcap. I debated whether to test myself around other like-minded men and figured, why not? Connor had opened the door, and I wondered if my attraction could take on a wider scope. I wasn’t looking to hook up. Just see what it was all about.

I settled my bill and headed out into the cold night. The bar was only three blocks from the restaurant, and it was an easy walk. I pulled the collar up on my leather jacket to stave off the chill and noticed quite a few people out and about.

When I arrived at the bar, my hunch about a country-western theme was correct. It had dark wood tones, and the wall behind the bar looked like it had come out of an old saloon, intricately carved with a mirrored back that reflected liquor bottles on clear glass shelves. The bar’s logo was etched in a fancy Western-style script directly onto the mirror. Country music played at a low volume throughout the place.

I took in the sight as I stood in the doorway. A buffalo head on the far wall kept watch over a pool table occupied by a couple of young men as they nursed their beers. Bowls of unshelled peanuts were strategically placed on tabletops and spent shells littered the floor around them.

Very rustic country but charming.

I noticed the bar wasn’t busy. It was only eight o’clock, and I was aware most bars didn’t fill up until later. There was a small group of men and women sitting in a booth with bottles of beer that probably came from the bucket in the center of their table. Two men sat separately at the bar with drinks in front of them.

I decided to sit at the bar, although I felt a tad overdressed. I kept my distance from the other two gentlemen, not wanting idle conversation, and sat at the near end of the bar. The bartender looked my way, and I noticed he did a double-take before heading in my direction.

He lifted his chin with a broad smile and placed both hands on the bar. “Howdy. What can I get you, handsome?”

I almost barked out a laugh at his greeting but smiled back. “Bourbon rocks,” I said quickly. I could feel the other two guys at the bar looking my way, but I didn’t acknowledge them.

The bartender winked and turned to grab a glass. He scooped ice into it, then gave me a generous pour and set it in front of me on a napkin.

I noticed his manicured fingernails were painted black. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a simple leather vest that hugged his well-defined chest and accentuated his muscular arms. He also sported tight black Wranglers with a large belt buckle resembling a turkey platter. A tight, flat-top haircut that looked fresh worked well with his dark brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones. I’d say he was a good-looking guy, not quite my age, but I had never been one to ogle another man or pay them a compliment.

I looked up at him from my drink with thanks, and his gaze never left my face. I was beginning to feel a little apprehensive about coming here. I didn’t expect to be the center of attention for a bartender. Maybe I was reading too much into it since the bar was slow, and I shook off the urge to overanalyze his motives.

“You from out of town?” he asked.

“Yeah, just passing through. I leave tomorrow,” I replied as I twirled the ice in my glass.

He paused, leaned forward, bracing his hands on the bar, and said in a low voice, “The bar closes at two o’clock. If you’re up for some company later and maybe a good time, I’m free.” I could see the want in his eyes.

I felt my face flush as I took in his proposal, and I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I’d never been boldly picked up by a guy before, and it threw me. I looked at him and calmly lied. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m straight.” I looked around convincingly. “Is this a gay bar?” That question made me feel like I could win an award for my acting skills. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

“Uh, yeah…sorry,” he replied with wide eyes. He stepped back and shook his head. “I guess you’ve never been in here before?”

I kept the pretense going. “No, I just walked down the street from having dinner and decided to come in. I noticed it was a nice-looking western bar and wanted a nightcap. Sorry if my rejection stung a little.” I felt an apology was in order, and I didn’t want to come across as a homophobic asshole.

“No, please don’t apologize. I was being forward, but you’re incredibly attractive, and I couldn’t resist.”

I was genuinely impressed with his reply. “That’s okay, no harm done. You think I’m attractive?” I asked coyly.

“I think my words were, I think you’re incredibly attractive,” he said and smiled, grabbing a bar rag. “But if I made you feel uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

I chuckled. Connor thought I was good-looking, so maybe I was to other guys as well. I dropped my gaze from the bartender and looked at my drink. “It’s sometimes hard to accept a compliment like that. I’m flattered.”

“You should be flattered.” He paused. “The name’s Nate.” He reached across the bar to shake my hand.

“Mason,” I replied and shook his hand firmly.

With that, Nate gave me a smile and a nod and headed to the other end of the bar and the two other patrons. I heard him laugh as he chatted with one of the men. I downed the rest of my bourbon and put a twenty under my glass. It was a generous tip, but I think our exchange was worth it. I took out my phone and saw that Connor had tried to call, but he hadn’t left a message.

I got up from the stool to head out and looked down the length of the bar, phone still in hand. I gave a friendly wave with it and walked out into the chilly night air. I hit Connor’s number, and he answered on the second ring.

“Hey, sexy trucker man.” My stomach fluttered.

“Hi. Sorry I didn’t pick up. You’ll never guess where I was,” I said with a laugh as I started back down the block.

“Do tell.” It sounded like he was out walking as well.

“I just walked out of a gay bar in Spokane. The bartender gave me the once over and tried to hit on me. I lied and told him I was straight.” I didn’t want Connor to feel uneasy or jealous, so I let him know.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. “You went to a gay bar?” His question was on the cool side, so I needed to explain.

“Whenever I travel to larger cities and spend the night, I treat myself to nice dinners. I mean, most of the time, I eat in my cab as I drive or stop at some generic diner for the same basic meals. It gets boring. Tonight, I went to one of my favorite restaurants here and had a great steak dinner. On a whim, I decided to check out a local gay bar down the street.”

Connor remained quiet.

“Hey,” I said. “I wasn’t looking for a hookup, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was an impulsive move to see how I’d react. I’ve never been to a gay bar, and I wasn’t on the hunt, Connor.” I could feel myself getting tense as I tried to justify my actions. I didn’t know how to express that I was trying to prove to myself I wasn’t really attracted to men other than him.

I stopped walking and leaned against a wall by a storefront under an awning and waited to hear him speak.

He finally replied. “I get it. I need to remember you’re new to all this. Being with me the other night was your first time. I didn’t mean to act weird, and I don’t even have a claim on you. I was just surprised at what you said, and my reaction was stupid.” I was relieved by his understanding, but I also felt he might have been stung or betrayed in the past, which could have triggered his behavior.

I didn’t want our phone call to go sour. “Connor, it wasn't stupid. I just wanted to be transparent about tonight. I’m sorry if it caused you doubts.”

I heard him sigh on the other end. His voice changed to a more teasing tone when he asked, “Were there any cute guys there?”

I laughed and teased back with my response. “No one but the bartender. He looked mighty fine, though.”

I heard an exaggerated gasp on his end. "First of all, who even says 'mighty fine' anymore? And secondly, the bartender? Seriously?" A muffled laugh came through the line, making me smile. I knew my approach had worked.

“He was a so-so handsome guy, I guess, but when I told him I was straight, he backed off. It felt weird to be sized up and outwardly propositioned by another guy. It shocked me, to be honest." I paused. "And Connor, he wasn't nearly as handsome as you.” With that, I think I heard him blush on the other end.

“Didn’t I proposition you at the bonfire?” Connor asked.

“Your surprise kiss was bold but not a blatant proposition. You also have a lot more going for you than that bartender,” I replied. I wanted to make sure he was the only one that held my interest.

“I did end up having my way with you,” he said.

I thought back to that night. “Yes, you did. And I’m glad.” I paused, then added, “I wish you were here with me right now. I miss your touch and that mouth of yours.” My cock swelled as I continued my walk.

“I miss you too, Daddy. There are a few more things I need to introduce you to, and my cock and ass are twitching with anticipation.”

That really made my jeans uncomfortably tight. “I like it when you call me that. I hope I can live up to the standards of your anticipation.”

Connor cleared his throat. “I’m going to change the subject now before this gets out of hand. I’m heading back to the dorm from the library, and I’m just about there. Promise me you’ll still think about Christmas dinner with my family?”

His question brought me back to reality, and my boner subsided. “I promise. Once we get closer to the holiday, I’ll know more about my schedule,” I replied, taking a deep breath.

“Sleep well, Mason. Dream in color.”

Shit, this man. How come he pulls me over the edge with his sweetness? I need to make Christmas work come hell or high water.

“You too, Connor,” I said wistfully.

Once we disconnected, I called a rideshare to take me back to my rig. As I waited, I checked the email on my phone and saw a message from the freight broker with an attachment—no time to waste. I needed to head over to the western part of the state first thing in the morning, with a stop that would eventually take me to Seattle.

I think it was time I visited Claudia’s parents.