“Hoo what?”
Just then, Mike approached. Thank God, Dylan thought. He was starting to feel a little too...something. Flinching, he pulled back from Josie and shot Mike a pleading look. Rescue me?
“Hi,” Mike said to Josie, extending his hand to shake. She grasped it and Dylan got a good, long look at those weird, long nails. Yep. Peacock tails. Golden, glittering streaks interspersed with some weird, glittery green and a bunch of colors you’d only see in nature.
She smiled real wide at Mike, clearly drinking him in. Some part of Dylan’s ego felt chipped away, irked that she didn’t look at him like that. What the hell was he thinking? Whether Laura’s best friend found him attractive or not wasn’t exactly top on his list of issues right now. Besides, Josie had asked him earlier if he and Mike had ever been in a foursome. Her intent was hard to read; sarcasm? Or—worse—an actual offer?
Mike’s return grin was polite. Hesitant. He gave nothing. Atta boy, Dylan thought. Josie’s face went a bit tentative, the first sign of any social filter in the woman. Mike could do that to people. He was so centered—not self-centered, but grounded—that his openness unnerved people. It was yet another aspect of him that drew Dylan, and probably Jill and Laura, to the giant—
Ah. Thor. Studying Mike’s features, Dylan suddenly got it, chuckling at the women. Taller than most men, Nordic features, the dark blonde hair and those glittery eyes. Legs like tree trunks and a cobra chest and back. Thor.
Did that make him Loki? He shuddered at the thought, his chuckle fading fast. He was waay more built than that guy. More Captain America than—
“Earth to Dylan.” Mike was waving a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt in his face. “Josie was just telling us some important information about Laura.” Mike widened his eyes and his look said Hey, dumbass, show some respect.
“Yeah. Sure.” Movement at the other booth caught his eye as Laura stretched her neck from one side to the other, then slid to the right, out of the booth and walked unsteadily to the bathroom. Her gait caught him unaware, and—yep, he was hard. That fine, round, soft ass sashayed away from him, her hips encased in some loose yoga pant fabric that clung to her curves, disappearing around the corner as she opened the door. It was unsettling when what he really wanted was that ass on him, in his lap, or in front of him, hands feeling every—
“...so I’m not going to sit here and pour out all of Laura’s secrets to you two idiots, but you obviously need someone to hit you with a clue bat.” Josie held up the plastic balls. “Or clue balls. Whatever. You should have been upfront with Laura and told her that you know each other. And that you’re gay— ”
“Nope.” Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. Here we go again. “Not gay.” Mike shook his head.
She smiled slyly. “OK, not gay. But...not not gay?”
Dylan pursed his lips, eyes narrowing, face hard. Mike had closed up, too. “We’re not having this conversation with you.”
“No offense,” Mike jumped in, palm up and facing Josie in a gesture that asked her to give them a second to explain. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Dylan muttered. Now he was getting pissed, and he could tell Mike could tell he was getting pissed, and he was hard from watching Laura walk away and now this little yippy drowned rat of a friend wanted to tell him allll about him and Mike. Judgment was all fine and good until the other person was just plain wrong.
Then it was torture.
“You don’t know us from Adam,” Mike said in a soothing voice. Josie looked at him with rapt attention, her mouth open slightly, lips parted and face softened. It made Dylan like her a bit. Just a bit. Mike had that effect on women. On men. On dogs, for that matter. He could make almost any living being feel like they were the center of the world.
“And we hope you respect that. We know you’re Laura’s best friend and we know you know her far, far better than we do. Someday we hope to rival you on that,” he added, his grin widening, eyes lasered on Josie’s.
She smiled. Dylan dropped his hands from his chest. Now they were getting somewhere. He couldn’t stop surveying the women’s room. A glimpse of her was what he wanted.
Not really. What he wanted was to storm over to her table, slide in next to her and charm the pants off her. His pants tightened. Damn jeans.
“If you really want to understand Laura, you two need to back the fuck off.” The profanity caught Dylan’s attention; her tone was nasty but matter-of-fact. “You’re not asking for anything she’s ever experienced. Or that most people, much less most women, have experienced. You lied to her—”