Syncopation by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga

Author:Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781951011123
Publisher: Tygerseye Publishing, LLC

10

Kyle woke up slowly, tangled up with Colt and buried under an unfamiliar comforter. It took him a little time to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there, and that came along with the realization that he was more than a little hungover.

He shifted, stretching and grinning at an ache he was going to enjoy all day. Colt’s smooth, warm shoulder was right there, and he gave it a kiss. He’d be happy to stay here forever, but first he needed some water and some Tylenol.

He could smell coffee—which was either good or bad, his stomach wasn’t sure. He pushed up, trying not to jostle Colt.

Oh, hello. The windows in this room were tall and gorgeous, but Jesus, they let in a lot of light. He squinted toward the bedroom door, wondering how many steps it would take to get over there, and then slid out of bed, eyes shielded under one hand.

He opened the door, groaning as blessed darkness surrounded him. Better. So much better.

“Tylenol?” Timmy’s hand appeared under his nose.

“Oh. Oh, yes. It’s the God of stupid dancers that drink too much.” He took the pills right out of Timmy’s hand. “How did you know?”

“I was up getting caffeinated, dude. I heard you moving around.” Timmy looked like the cat with the canary. “You want coffee?”

He hesitated for a second, trying to get his fuzzy mind around the look on Timmy’s face. “Yes?” He nodded. “Yes. I need coffee. Colt is still sleeping. He’s tired. Do you have water too?” Do you have water? Really?

“We do. And orange juice. Hell, I think Colt has a six-pack of Coke.”

Just the words “orange juice” made his stomach flip over. “Just water’s good.” He sat at the kitchen table and let Timmy get him water and coffee. He took the Tylenol and prayed it worked fast, finishing the water with it. “Thanks, Timmy. Sorry. Good morning, by the way. I’ll be better in a minute. Why do you keep grinning at me?”

As if he didn’t know. He wasn’t so drunk last night that he didn’t remember that shower, and Colt… God, Colt. He couldn’t remember ever being wanted like that before.

“You’re smitten.”

“Did you honestly just say smitten? What are you? Forty?”

“Dude, that’s deflecting. You’re totally gone.” Timmy just kept grinning.

“I don’t know about totally.”

Timmy pinned him with a look. “Liar.”

“Maybe.” He stared right back, but Timmy was either better at this, less hungover, or both. “He’s… like no one I’ve ever met, and we’re good together.”

Timmy sat with him. “You love him?”

“Oh, Timmy. You know me. I fall in love every day.”

“True. He’s a good guy. One hell of a picker and a surprisingly good songwriter for a kid that never got past seventh grade.”

“Wow. He didn’t tell me that.” Why would he? And what did it matter, anyway? What Colt had went way past schooling. You couldn’t learn what he did, the way he played. You had to be gifted it. Channel it or something. “He is a great guy.

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