Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

well-versed in. “Oh.”
    His cowboy regarded him with a clear-eyed gaze that seemed to burn into the back of Adam’s brain. It made him want to fidget and never move again all at once. Mostly he clung to his yearning, wanting more than anything to prolong this encounter, to get back to that place where he didn’t feel afraid, just hot and wild and free.
    It must have worked, because Denver held out his hand and said, “Give me your phone.”
    Without a word or beat of hesitation, Adam dug into his pocket and passed it over, then watched as Denver punched at the screen for half a minute before giving it back.
    “Give me a holler if you want company at the laundromat again sometime.” Picking up the basket of clothes, he winked at Adam as he headed for the door.

Denver Rogers couldn’t stop thinking about the cute grad student from the laundromat. He thought about him all night long, all through his shift and as he went to bed, and again when he passed the Park Place apartments on his way to the grocery store.
    It worried him.
    He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking about the kid or why thinking about him so much made him uneasy. He pretty much made it his mission to fuck his way through every twink who came to Lights Out, and that wasn’t the first time he’d given out his cell number. In fact, he’d ignored ten different texts and photos while he’d done his shift at the door of the bar after leaving Tucker Laund-O-Rama, and he’d turned down several offers of bed-warmers and back-room blowjobs. As far as offers went, that had actually been a pretty slow night for him, really. Nobody had caught his eye, though.
    Not like the cute entomologist with blond hair and glasses.
    At the laundromat.
    Really, it was that last bit that was holding him up, and for a dumbass reason. So when he couldn’t shake the uneasiness Saturday afternoon, he headed for the one person he knew would give him a therapeutic dose of reality.
    El Rozal sat behind his counter at Tucker Pawn, bronze arms covered in nicotine patches and a scowl on his face. When he saw Denver, he gave a curt nod and reached over to scratch the ears of his black and white mop of a dog. “Hey.”
    “Hey yourself.” Denver grinned at the patches and shook his head. “Trying again, I see.”
    El grunted and pushed his black hair out of his eyes. “Sorry I had to bail on you for laundry yesterday. I can’t wait until Paul’s done with this certification crap.”
    El’s boyfriend was studying to be a vet tech. “When’s his test?”
    “Tuesday.” El reached for his shirt pocket, realized what he was doing, and sighed. “What’ll it be, Mr. Rogers? Buy, sell, or trade?”
    “Buy, as in, I’m buying lunch if you’ll haul your ass out from behind that counter for it.”
    Grimacing, El glanced at the clock on the wall. “Believe me, I’d love to, but I promised Paul I’d meet him on campus with sandwiches at one.”
    “Oh. No problem.” Denver tried for a no-worries smile, but he wasn’t feeling it.
    If El had still been smoking, he’d have stared at Denver over the tip of the burning cherry. As it was, he simply stared, his hard, dark eyes assessing. “Business is slow, though, and it’s a long time until one. What do you say to a cup of coffee and a croissant?”
    This time Denver didn’t have to fake the grin. “I say flip that sign and get MoJo’s leash.”
    “You’re still buying,” El said, ruffling the ears of the mop-headed dog, who had gone wild at the word leash .
    El preferred the local Mocha Springs Eternal coffee shop to Starbucks, which was fine with Denver, as he only ever ordered black coffee anyway. He got El his usual frothy caramel thing and brought both drinks out to the patio, where MoJo was already nestling into her owner’s lap.
    “Few more weeks, it’ll be too cold to sit out here,” Denver observed as he eased into the metal chair across from El. It groaned under his considerable size, but he knew from experience this one could take him.
    “I’ll be out here wrapped in scarves in December unless they let MoJo come inside.” El sipped at his coffee. “So, muscle boy. It appears you have something on your mind.”
    Denver shifted in his seat, making the metal groan more. “Nothing really. Just had an interesting night is all.”
    “Last I checked, that wasn’t unusual for you. Unless you did three at once again?”
    He shifted again. “No.” He took a fortifying sip of coffee. “Actually, I