Page 3 of Something to Prove (Smithton Bears #2)

WALKER

Okay, I was desperate.

And I was in danger of losing my hearing along with the will to live as the strains of an electric guitar warred with a tinny drumbeat and the banshee wails of the Brewsky Brothers’ lead singer. Geez, they were awful.

My guess was that they were going for an edgy rock vibe, but don’t quote me. I was never going to be a fan. I preferred dance music or at least lyrics that didn’t sound so…cringy.

“Baby, where’d you go? Why won’t you let me know? Everything is low…and it’s snow-snow-snowing a-gain!”

I mean…really? The rhyme was there and then…not.

I snapped obligatory concert photos on my cell and nursed the complimentary gin and tonic that Crysta the bartender, an adorable blond with tats and a nose ring, who just happened to be in my Environmental Science class—slid my way.

“Trust me, honey, you’ll need this,” Crysta said.

She was right.

The Tavern was Smithton’s only bar-slash-music venue.

The quality of the performers didn’t seem to matter to the audience, which was made up almost exclusively of students eager for an excuse to get drunk on cheap beer and watered-down cocktails.

I’d taken up residence on a barstool in the corner, chatting with a few acquaintances while feigning interest in the band.

As soon as they finished their set, the plan was to meet backstage, conduct the briefest of interviews, and get the heck out of Dodge.

“They’re…enthusiastic.” I winced at the screech of the guitar as I swiveled on my barstool.

“And loud.” Crysta delivered a drink order and returned to fuss with my cocktail-napkin situation…and gab. “The band is friendly with the kid whose dad owns this place, so this is probably the fifth or sixth time I’ve had the pleasure of partaking of these sick tunes.”

I snorted. “Lucky you.”

“At least they’re easy on the eyes.”

I studied the greasy long-haired quartet rocking holey jeans and sweat-stained plaid shirts. “If you say so.”

Crysta snapped my arm with a dish towel. “I do say so. C’mon, that drummer is fine. Admit it.”

“He’s all yours, honey.”

“Oooh, thank you. And who do you think is sexier than the drummer? No, wait. Let me guess. You’re in your boy-next-door era. If so, the guy bopping near the speakers is adorable.”

I glanced toward the stage. “Cute, but not for me.”

“How about a hockey player?”

“That’s a definitive no.”

“I’m doubting your taste in men, Walker.” She tilted her chin at someone behind me. “No one in their right mind would kick Ty Czerniak out of bed.”

“Ty? Is he here?” I twisted on my stool, but couldn’t see anything beyond the press of bodies swarming around the bar.

“Yeah, I think he’s heading for the john.” Crysta held up a finger and smiled icily at a brawny dude on the opposite end waving her over. “I’ve been summoned. Want a refill?”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

I sat frozen with indecision for a minute.

Ty’s agent hadn’t returned my call, and Ty had personally made it clear that he’d sooner drink Drano than speak to me.

But…I needed Ty’s cooperation and if I had to apologize again for past indiscretions to get a sliver of his time, I was willing to do so. It was my job.

On a scale of one to ten, how tacky was it to corner a prospective interviewee in a men’s room? Probably a solid ten. But desperate times, desperate measures.

I left a few bills under my half-empty glass before snaking my way through the crowd toward the restrooms. I pushed the door open, scanning the dimly lit space. Two guys stood at urinals and another was checking his reflection in the mirror. The stalls were empty. No sign of Ty.

Huh .

I chewed my bottom lip in the corridor, wondering if his eardrums begged for mercy and he’d wisely checked out for the night. In which case, Ty might still be in the parking lot. And yay for that ’cause cornering him in a parking lot rather than a urinal was a lesser offense by a long shot.

On that note, I exited the building.

But he was gone.

Maybe he’d been in a hurry, or maybe Crysta had mistaken someone else for Ty.

Oh, well. I wasn’t in a rush to get back to the concert. No thanks. Give me chirping crickets and the hum of traffic in the distance any day.

I skirted the lamplights and slipped into the alley, hoping to stay unnoticed when a posse of new patrons piled out of their cars. I recognized a couple of them from school. We were either in the same classes or I’d interviewed them at some point…maybe.

Not that it mattered. I needed a moment to clear my thoughts before returning for the interview portion of the program and?—

“Fuck, yeah. That’s good. Open up wider. Fuuuuck…”

I whipped my head sideways, staring at the shadowy figures ten feet away from me.

A big man with muscular arms leaned against the brick wall and another figure kneeled at his feet doing…sex things. It was too dark to see either of them clearly, but there was something familiar about?—

Whoa! What was I doing?

I was no voyeur! And I had no interest in watching someone else get something I hadn’t had in a while. Shame on me.

I inched away from the wall just as the person on their knees spoke in a deep masculine voice. “Fuck my mouth, Ty. Do it.”

O. M. G.

Ty?

That was Ty.

Holy shitballs.

And that was a man sucking Ty Czerniak’s cock.

Gulp.

My heart beat like a drum against my rib cage.

The sound of slurping, gagging, and the low rumble of dirty talk floated my way.

“Fuck, that’s so good. I’m gonna fuckin’ come. Are you ready?” and then, “ Ungh! ”

Move it, Walker. Move. Get out. Now!

I was trembling, my pulse racing. Everything in my body was buzzing, but my feet felt like two blocks of cement. And yes, I had a semi.

The guy on the ground stood, zipping his fly. “I missed your shoes. You’re welcome.”

They both laughed and whispered something I couldn’t make out. Neither leaned in for a kiss. There was nothing intimate or sensual here. The moment had passed, and if anyone happened to walk by now, they’d see two men talking…and someone eavesdropping like a creeper.

Me.

Okay, excuse me for not bolting right away, but I was in a state of shock.

Ty was bi. That part wasn’t news. But a bi hockey player getting caught in a sexually compromising situation with a man in an alley was scandalous. Double standard? Yes, absolutely. It was true, though.

I had to get the heck out of here ASAP. If Ty spotted me, he’d think I was spying on him. Or he’d think I was a degenerate pervert or?—

I froze at a shuffling sound inches from me in the dark. Another person? Was this a secret orgy? Oh, geez. I darted to my left and almost tripped on a rat the size of a Volkswagen Bug.

A rat.

A very, very big rat.

I valiantly choked down a yelp, and let me tell you, I deserved major life points for the effort. That thing was enormous. I didn’t do vermin well…or spiders or anything that slithered, so frankly it was a miracle that I didn’t scream bloody murder as I turned the corner and raced into The Tavern.

I kept my cool as I flashed my stamped hand at the bouncer, my mind whirling at a million RPMs a second.

I’d just witnessed an unknown guy performing fellatio on Ty’s cock in an alley. A fellow jock, by the look of him. That hadn’t been a figment of my sometimes X-rated imagination. That had been real.

Of course Ty’s queerness wasn’t my business. At all. It was just a surprise to see him with a man. A teammate? I had no idea, but he was vaguely familiar. Not a hockey player. A football player. Yes! That was it. Someone I’d seen recently. Someone who—never mind. It didn’t matter.

Again, private affairs of the heart or penis were between consenting adults and no one else. My new knowledge or suspicion regarding the hockey hunk’s partner wasn’t to be shared. Ever.

Why did this feel like déjà vu? The bad kind that led to me falling on my sword.

I’d apologized profusely after the Valentine incident, and I’d promised to do better in the future.

This was the future.

No wonder Ty was holding a grudge. It wasn’t just on his friend’s behalf—it was even more personal because evidently, Ty had a big secret too. He had a boyfriend.

Message received, and now…I’d file the information in a rarely used storage facility in my noggin and forget about it. I had to. Ty didn’t want me to know and if he thought I’d been hiding in the shadows, hoping to catch him unaware, he wouldn’t just hate me, he’d want blood.

Final thought on this curious incident: Thank God he didn’t see me.