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Overview
Trapped by words spoken as a teenager, Chase Hughes longs for a love that touches not only his heart but also his body.
First loves are often the hardest to leave behind. For months, college student Chase Hughes has known he owes his high school sweetheart the truth about his feelings. He still loves Benny, but he has grown to realise he's ready to move on. The problem is, he knows Benny will be crushed by the breakup, and hurting the sweetest man he's ever known weighs on Chase's soul.
While working as a server at Clean Slate, Chase meets the man of his fantasies. Mac Evans pushes all of Chase's sexual buttons, and after having uninspiring sex with Benny for two years, Chase is ready to explore more than the tattoos on Mac's muscular body.
Mac gave up everything to come clean with the people he loved, and expects nothing less from Chase before allowing things to progress between them. Chase is forced to choose between hurting the man of his past and giving up a sexy, tattooed man that may be his future.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857156754 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Totally Entwined Group |
| Publication date: | 04/18/2014 |
| Series: | Campus Cravings , #18 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 87 |
| File size: | 662 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Chase Hughes stared at the large flat-screen television in the BK House rec room without seeing a damn thing. The phone in his hand dropped to the sofa cushion beside him. He needed to get off the couch and jump into the shower before work, but he couldn't get the conversation with Benny, his boyfriend of two years, off his mind.
It wasn't that the phone call had been bad. He never had a problem talking to Benny because they knew each other so well they never ran out of things to say. Nope, it was the way Benny ended their daily calls with an 'I love you' that made him feel like shit.
Benny Allenbrand was one of the nicest guys Chase had ever known, and there had been a time when the two were inseparable, but that had been before Chase had gone off to college. Being two and a half years younger, Benny wouldn't graduate high school until May.
Chase glanced at the phone. Benny had accepted a scholarship to play football for North Central Idaho University. The same football team Chase played on. It had always been their plan for Benny to graduate and join Chase, so what the fuck was wrong with him now that their dream was going to come true?
Wyatt came into the room, twirling a set of keys on his finger. "Do you still need a ride to work?"
Chase glanced at the clock. Fuck. So much for getting a shower in. He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. "Do I have time to change?" "Sure. I thought I'd grab something to eat from the kitchen before I left anyway. Meet you back here in fifteen?"
"Great." Chase picked up his phone. He should have enough time for a quick shower. It was his first night back to work since he'd returned from winter break and he couldn't wait to get some money in his pocket again. He'd only worked at Clean Slate since he'd turned twenty-one in November and couldn't believe the bar's owner, Reid, had given him time off to go home for Christmas.
It only took Chase a moment to race to his room and grab a towel and his shower bucket. He stripped out of his clothes and stepped under the hot spray of water. When he'd first taken the job at Clean Slate, he'd made piss poor tips until Wyatt and Zeke had clued him in on what to wear and how to flirt. He still wasn't as good as Wyatt and Zeke at the flirting, but he'd spent his entire first week's pay on clothes that he wouldn't be caught dead in back home in Cattle Valley.
After a quick scrub, Chase spent a couple of minutes getting his blond hair styled. He preferred the just out of bed look and obviously, so did the bar patrons, because the less time he spent on it, the higher the tips.
Chase pulled on his low-rise jeans and tight white T-shirt with the bar's logo. Wyatt had told Chase he'd make even more money in tips if he got his nipples pierced, but he wasn't willing to go that far. He was the smallest quarterback in the college's history and was already pushing his luck with the football team. Showing up for spring training with pierced nipples would likely get him jumped in the showers.
Fully dressed, Chase stopped by his room to toss the towel toward his bed and retrieve his wallet. "I'm going to work," he told his roommate.
Rusty glanced up from the book he was reading. His parents had died in an accident less than six months earlier, so Rusty had stayed at BK for the holidays. Chase couldn't imagine how shitty that would be.
"Okay," Rusty replied before going back to his book.
As Chase jogged down the steps, he prayed he wasn't the only student who'd come back from break early. A packed bar was a lucrative shift.
* * *
"This place is dead," Skeet Drews declared, entering the garage through the tiny showroom.
Mac glanced up from the custom bike he was working on. "Not many people are out looking for Harleys when there's a foot of snow on the ground."
"So why're you even open? Knock off early and let's grab a drink." Skeet plopped down on one of the small metal stools Mac had sprinkled around the three bay garage.
Mac didn't dare tell his best friend that being alone at the shop was a hell of a lot easier than being alone at home. He'd made the mistake of letting Skeet talk him into going to Clean Slate a few months earlier, and Skeet hadn't shut up about going back since. "That place is too loud."
"Fuck, when did you become an old man?" Skeet tapped a booted foot against Mac's workbench.
"When I became responsible for a wife and son at the age of eighteen, asshole." Mac returned his attention to the gas tank he'd been grinding on.
"Who said anything about getting drunk? I figured we'd have a couple beers, a big plate of chili cheese fries and maybe get lucky."
Mac didn't bother to reply. He liked a good hard fuck as much as the next guy, but knew from experience he couldn't find what he was after in a damn bar. It was probably a sick fucking thing, but he enjoyed the chase. Unfortunately, the guys that seemed to slither over to him when he was at a club only wanted one thing. Where was the challenge? He needed a challenge. He fucking lived for it. His dick wouldn't even get hard unless he believed he was about to tap something special. Still, it was almost seven and the thought of going home didn't hold much appeal.
"Come on. I don't want to go by myself," Skeet begged.
Mac growled as he set the hand-grinder aside. One of the advantages of owning his own custom motorcycle shop was the ability to set his own hours, and since he hadn't had a single customer all day, he decided to follow Skeet's lead. "You start turning off the lights while I get things locked up."
Skeet clapped his hands. "That's what I'm talking about. You won't be sorry."
Skeet's enthusiasm was not infectious, leading Mac to think he was already sorry he'd agreed to the night out.
* * *
"Hey," Chase answered his phone. He nodded when Zeke indicated the tray full of drinks on the bar.
"You have time to talk?" Benny asked.
"Sorry, I'm in the middle of my shift. Is something up?" Chase tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he added slices of lime to two of the beer bottles.
"Not really. I can't stop thinking about our call earlier."
Chase squeezed his eyes shut. "Why don't I give you a call back on my break?"
"When's that?"
Chase glanced at the large clock over the bar. "Another hour and twenty." Discussing their earlier conversation wasn't something he felt like doing on his break, but he knew Benny wouldn't sleep until they'd worked things out between them. Chase still wasn't sure he was doing right by Benny and had said as much hours before.
"I guess," Benny mumbled.
Zeke gave Chase a look that said Chase better get the fuck off the phone and do his job. "Okay, gotta go or I'll lose my paycheck."
"Sure." Benny sighed. "I love you."
"Yeah." Chase winced. Once again, it was the awkward part of their conversations. He hung up and stuffed the phone in his bar apron. "Sorry about that."
Zeke poured another draft beer and set it on Wyatt's tray. "Don't let Reid see you doing that." He grinned. "I'm the nice one."
Chase loved his boss, so he doubted that was the truth. He rolled his eyes and picked up his order. "But he's the hot one," he replied in total honesty. Reid was gorgeous, and Chase often found his gaze straying to the older man when he was in the room.
"Watch it," Zeke warned. He winked at Chase and gestured across the bar with his chin. "You've got a new table."
Chase groaned. His station was already loaded. Who the fuck knew that so many people would take refuge in a fucking bar during a snowstorm? He could kick himself for hoping the bar would be busy. It seemed fate had been listening. Balancing the tray, he turned and caught sight of the bar's newest refugees. "Fuck me." He barely caught his tray before it toppled to the floor.
Zeke started laughing. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that."
Both men were hot, but one in particular was every daddy fantasy Chase had ever had. Clad in a skintight black Under Armour shirt, the patron's muscular chest and arms were on glorious display. There was a hint of a tattoo on the man's throat with even more ink showing on his forearms and wrists where the long-sleeved shirt was pushed up.
Chase wasted no time delivering the drinks, so intent on getting to the hot guy that he didn't even bother to flirt. He approached the high top table and prayed his voice wouldn't crack but was thankful he wore the short apron that hid his raging erection. Shit. The man's nose was fucking perfect. "Welcome to Clean Slate," he greeted. "What can I get you?"
The gorgeous one, the one with the devilish dark brown beard and big hazel eyes, grinned at him. Fuck. Chase thought he'd die right there in the middle of the packed bar. "Haven't seen you before," the man replied, his voice so deep Chase felt it vibrate his fucking balls.
"I haven't been here long." Chase tucked the tray under his arm. "I'm Chase." Although he had other customers to tend to, he wanted to milk his moment with the hot hunk.
"Chase," the man repeated with a nod. "I'm Mac and this is my friend Skeet."
Chase flicked a glance to Skeet before returning to Mac. Sure, Skeet was handsome too, but he didn't have that bad boy look that Mac had in spades. "Nice to meet you." He smiled, knowing his dimples would be on full display.
Mac held Chase's gaze for several beautiful seconds. "Two glasses of Sam Adams," he eventually said. "And two orders of the chili cheese fries," he added.
"That it?" Chase asked. "You look like a man who enjoys a good steak, and Raul has some delicious New York strips in the kitchen."
Mac looked to Skeet. "You need to get home for any reason?" Skeet shook his head. "Medium-well for me with a loaded potato."
Chase nodded and waited for Mac to order. "What kind of vegetables do you have tonight?"
"Ummm." Chase thought for a few moments. "Steamed broccoli or green beans," he recited, getting lost in Mac's hazel eyes. It was rare, extremely rare, that a man affected him to the point where he couldn't think.
"Great. Medium-rare with a side of the broccoli," Mac replied.
"Do you still want the chili cheese fries?" Chase knew he was stalling, but he didn't want to walk away.
"Yeah, give us one order. We can share it while we're waiting for our meal."
"Sure thing." Chase smiled again, wondering what Mac's hair looked like under the black beanie. "Be right back with those beers."
"I'd say take your time, but I'm very thirsty," Mac said with a wink.
Chase tore himself away from the table. He pulled his order pad out of his apron and wrote up the food order. He dropped it off with Raul before stepping up to the bar. "Two Sam Adams," he told Zeke.
Zeke eyed Chase as he filled two glasses from the tap.
"What?" Chase asked, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm flirting. Isn't that what you told me to do? Besides, I have a boyfriend back home." He didn't know who he was trying to convince, Zeke or himself. Benny. He inwardly groaned.
"You have that look on your face when you're around that boyfriend of yours?" Zeke set the glasses on Chase's tray.
"What look?" Chase knew for a fact Zeke couldn't see the erection still pressed against his fly.
Zeke shook his head and picked up a rag to wipe off the bar. "Never mind."
Chase stood staring at Zeke for several moments. "Whatever," he grumbled, picking up the tray. On his way to Mac's table, another of his regulars called out to him.
"Hey, QB, get us another round."
"Sure thing." Chase tried to remember what the table of football fans were drinking. Mac had him so wound up his memory was shit. "Here you go," he said, arriving at Mac's table.
"QB?" Skeet questioned.
"I'm the Big Horn quarterback," Chase explained, setting Skeet's beer on the napkin he'd laid out.
Skeet punched Mac in the arm. "Hear that?"
Mac nodded. "Yep."
Skeet gestured to Mac. "He rarely misses a home game. His son plays high school football in Los Angeles."
"Fuck!" Mac turned to Skeet. "You gonna give the kid my whole fucking history?"
Chase felt like he'd been slapped. Kid? Evidently he'd been wrong about the mutual attraction he'd felt between them earlier. He took a step back, taking himself out of the line of fire. "I'll bring those fries out as soon as they're ready." Then, with his virtual tail between his legs, he got the hell away from the table.
* * *
Mac jabbed the last of the fries with his fork. He was in a bad mood and wished to hell he hadn't put in the order for dinner. All he wanted was to get the fuck away from Skeet and the blond-haired temptation that had refused to even meet his gaze when he'd delivered the fries.
"You're an asshole," Skeet said, wiping his mouth.
Mac glared at Skeet. He loved his friend and would do anything for him, but, Jesus, he'd been riding a pretty fucking awesome high before Skeet had put the brakes on things by reminding him of Jackson.
The QB had been into him, Mac knew that much, and for a while, he'd let himself believe he'd had a chance. It had been a long time since he'd fucked. Not because he hadn't had volunteers. Nope, the problem was all his. He was the kind of man who didn't take someone home to fuck unless he was really attracted to them, and in nearly a year, not one sonofabitch got his dick hard. Until Chase. Fuck!
"What? You got nothing to say?" Skeet pushed. "I saw the way you looked at him."
"Leave it," Mac warned.
Skeet drained the last of his second beer and held up his hand to get Chase's attention. "If you're not gonna make a move, I am."
"Leave it," Mac growled, repeating himself.
Skeet fucked anyone who gave him a second look, male or female. The thought of Chase getting mixed up in Skeet's frightening love life didn't sit well with Mac.
Mac chanced a glance at Chase as he approached the table. He met Chase's gaze before Chase quickly broke eye contact and suddenly realized it wasn't disinterest Chase had in his eyes, it was fear. What the hell? He mentally replayed their earlier conversation in an attempt to figure out what he'd done to give Chase the impression there was something to fear from him.
"Two more?" Chase asked Skeet.
"Yeah," Skeet answered.
"I'll check on your food, too." Chase retreated without looking at Mac.
Mac had spent the better part of his adult life knowing his size and looks intimidated most people, but, usually, after someone gave him a chance to talk, they were quickly put at ease. It appeared he had the opposite effect on Chase and he didn't like it one bit. He zeroed in on Chase's ass as the quarterback walked to the food service window cut into the wall. Fuck. He couldn't get past that look of fear in Chase's big blue eyes.
"You okay, man?" Skeet asked, interrupting Mac's train of thought.
Mac knew in his gut he wouldn't be okay until he figured out what the hell had happened, but he wasn't about to tell Skeet that. "Yeah."
"I was just messing with you when I said I'd make a move on the quarterback."
Mac glanced at his best friend. "You've known me since kindergarten. Have I ever, in all that time, given you the impression that I liked being messed with?" "No, but I've also never known you to shy away from what you want." Skeet leveled his gaze on Mac. "I thought you were all about the hunt. You're not too old for him if that's what you're worried about."
It wasn't the age difference that bothered Mac. Hell, the way Chase affected him, he wasn't even sure he needed the hunt. It was something else entirely. When Skeet had stupidly brought up Jackson earlier, Mac had been pissed. Chase had quickly backed away, and, at first, Mac thought it was because Chase had realized how much older Mac was, but he no longer believed that was the case. "He's afraid of me now," Mac growled.
"Although that would make sense since you're a scary-looking motherfucker. I didn't get that vibe from him when he came over and introduced himself. I thought he was into you." Skeet looked over his shoulder at Chase. "But now that you mention it, he does seem different than he was a half hour ago."
Yeah. Mac tried to relax his scowl as Chase made his way toward the table with a large tray laden with dinner plates, steak sauce and two frosty glasses of Sam Adams.
"Sorry it took so long. It seems everyone's hungry tonight," Chase said as he started emptying his tray.
"That's okay," Mac replied, trying like hell to keep his gravelly voice easy. He knew his voice intimidated many people, maybe that was Chase's problem.
Before Mac could think of something else to say, Chase set the fresh beer in front of him. "I'm going on a short break, but I'll check back with you in a few minutes. In the meantime, if you need anything, just flag down Wyatt," Chase said, holding the empty tray at his side but avoiding eye contact.
Shit. Mac knew he had to set the situation right before he left.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Coming Clean"
by .
Copyright © 2014 Carol Lynne.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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