Beauregard and the Beast Page 6

  Adam threw the towel over his shoulder and sauntered over to where Bo stood frozen by the door. “Whatcha got there?”

  When Bo blinked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, Adam’s knees went weak. Had to be his age. Maybe he was getting too old for this shit.

  But no, it was more than that. Bo’s lips tilted into a crooked smile, and Adam’s stomach dropped to share space with his wobbly knees. Yeah, it had to do with a lot more than his age.

  Beauregard Wilkins would be the death of him far before age took its toll.

  “I, ah, did some research on the GED.” Bo bit his lip as he held the notebook out for Adam to see. Scribbled notes covered the page in the big, looping penmanship Adam already associated with Bo. “They offer testing every other weekend. There are classes we could take if you want, or we could self-teach. They have loads of materials available. And if we go that route, it’s estimated we should be ready within a couple of months. As long as we spend a few evenings a week studying.”

  A few evenings a week. Adam inwardly cringed but kept his face neutral. He still had a little over two months until training camp started. He could skip a couple two-a-days for Bo’s sake. He’d spend a few more hours on his evening workouts the rest of the week to make up for it. Totally doable.

  “Let’s do it. Get us whatever we need, and we can start tomorrow.” Adam ran the towel over his damp neck. He tilted his chin when Bo bobbed his head in agreement but didn’t disappear as he’d expected. “Something else on your mind?”

  Bo’s gaze snapped to Adam’s, and an adorable pink blushed his cheeks. “Ah, no.”

  “You sure?” Adam scratched his thumb over an eyebrow. “You aren’t bothering me in the least. If you need or want something, I’m here. I can take a break or even call it for the night. No biggie.”

  Bo worked his pursed lips side to side before dropping them into a pout. “Would it be okay if I maybe came in here every so often? I promise I won’t get under your feet while you’re using it, and I won’t shirk my duties—”

  “Dude, of course.” Adam laughed. He’d love nothing more than to have Bo share this space with him. “You won’t be ‘under my feet.’ Why don’t you join me in the evenings? I hate working out alone. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  The narrow-eyed skepticism pinching Bo’s face was downright adorable. He folded his arms over his notebook and plumped out one of those kissably delicious lips. “I haven’t been in a gym since junior year. I have no clue what I’m doing. Trust me, I’ll get in your way.”

  A thrill raced up Adam’s spine. He loved a good challenge, and one of his favorite things to do before his fame had gotten in the way of his regular life had been to help others train. There was something satisfying about guiding someone through the routines his own body craved, especially when he got to stick around long enough to see the other person grow to love the activities as much as he did.

  “Tell you what, how about we work out together? As in, I’ll spot you, you spot me, and I can teach you as we go. I kinda get off on training people. Probably has something to do with a subconscious boost to my ego or some shit, but you’ll be exactly opposite of getting in my way. Having a partner can be motivating. It’s also a whole helluva lot easier.”

  Bo rocked on his heels and nibbled on his lip in much the same way Adam had imagined doing. Repeatedly.

  “I’m a string bean, and you’re… well, you’re a beast.” Bo snorted out an awkward laugh. The pink in his cheeks turned crimson. “You could probably bench press me with one arm, all while I’m holding the heaviest weights I can manage to lift two-handed. I’ll hold you back.”

  A challenge indeed. Adam pointed to a table near the door that held bottled water and a basket with clean, folded towels Bo himself kept laundered and stocked. “Leave your notebook there, and give me a chance to show you what I mean. I promise, if you’re ‘getting in the way,’ I’ll let you know.”

  Bo didn’t look convinced, but he swallowed and did as Adam asked. He glanced at his jeans, T-shirt, and worn gym shoes, then knit his brow. “Should I change first?”

  The temptation to suggest Bo strip to his underwear nearly won over Adam’s good senses. The mental image it produced had him shifting on his feet and sending down, boy vibes to his cock.

  “We won’t do anything too exciting this go-round. I was getting close to wrapping for the evening, anyway. Next time, you can come prepared.”

  “Okay.” Bo licked his lips. “So, ah, where do you want me?”

  No amount of internal scolding could contain Adam’s response to those words. He turned his hips to hide the growing proof of his filthy-minded attraction and pretended his movement had been altruistic by pointing to the treadmill. “Since it’s your first time getting active in a while, let’s start with a warm-up walk.”

  Bo scampered to the machine and hopped on. The excitement radiating off him was near-palpable. He stood on the belt and stared at the electronic console with a puzzled scrunch of his brow. “How the heck does this thing work?”

  When Bo pressed the quick-start button before Adam could tell him not to, the belt jerked to life and he tumbled face-first into the cup holder. A bout of contagious laughter rolled through the room rather than the cry of pain Adam had feared.

  After adjusting his shorts to camouflage his erection, Adam climbed onto the elliptical beside Bo. He walked him through setting up an easy warm-up routine, then swallowed a groan when Bo shot him a toothy grin and puffed out his chest.

  This would be a challenge, all right. A challenge to keep his dick under control.

  Tomorrow he’d wear a pair of compression shorts under his baggier pair. It wouldn’t solve all his problems, but at least it would help. Somewhat.

  Bo shifted his walk to a swagger. He sashayed his hips and tossed a wink over his shoulder.

  Fuck.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t do shit.

  Chapter Ten

  “HEY, Grandpa, how goes it?”

  The laughter lacing Adam’s words should’ve brought a glare to Bo’s face, but even those muscles were sore. It was easier to grunt than to risk any unnecessary physical movement.

  Adam flopped on the couch at Bo’s feet with all the lithe agility of a man who hadn’t spearheaded a murderous workout routine the night before. Or spent another three hours at the gym this morning. Yet somehow, he had. Without showing the slightest sign of discomfort or negative ramifications.

  Just… how?

  “I bet you’ll listen to me next time, won’t you, young grasshopper?” Adam pulled a knee onto the couch so he could face Bo and grinned with an unnecessarily boisterous gusto. “Especially considering the soreness is always worse on day two. This ain’t nothin’ compared to what you’re gonna face tomorrow.”

  Bo moaned. How was that physically possible? He’d never hurt so bad in his life. How could it get any worse?

  He wanted to kick his own backside from here to Alaska for his idiocy. Adam had tried to talk him out of pushing things as hard as he had. But after that first night, where Adam had him walk on a treadmill for twenty minutes and called it quits, he’d wanted to prove he didn’t need coddling. If he was going to join Adam in his workouts, he didn’t want to embarrass himself. Worse, he didn’t want to hinder Adam’s ability to get in the workout he needed. After all, keeping his body fit was Adam’s full-time job.

  Like it was Bo’s full-time job to do about anything other than lie around on his boss’s couch like a sack full of bruised potatoes. He struggled to lean on his elbows and worked up a good glower. “Listen, meathead, it isn’t nice to tease the wounded.”

  “Meathead?” Adam’s brows popped. “Ouch. Do you talk to your baby sister with that mouth?”

  Bo whimpered as he pushed to a full upright sitting position. “Actually, I do. Hence the term ‘meathead’ rather than something more colorful.”

  Faced with raising an adolescent when he had still been one himself had meant a lot of adjustments and a cr
ash course in maturity. Which wasn’t something Bo was entirely new to. His mother had been diagnosed with stage IV cervical cancer early in her pregnancy with Lulu and decided to postpone treatment until her daughter was born. It’d resulted in a healthy baby girl, but their mother had passed a few short weeks later.

  His family had already been battling financial difficulties before her death, so Bo’s father had to take on two full-time jobs to keep them afloat. Even then, there weren’t enough funds available to pay for evening and overnight childcare. At seven years old, Bo had already been Lulu’s primary caregiver.

  “Hold the phone.” Adam tilted his head. “You’re saying you never curse? Like, not ever?”

  “I had impressionable little ears looking to me as an example. I learned other ways to vent my frustrations. Ways that wouldn’t get me pulled in for a parent-teacher conference because the mouth attached to those ears chose to repeat what they’d heard.”

  Adam huffed out a laugh. “I’ve got thirteen years on you, and you’re more grown-up than I’ll ever be.”

  Before Bo could respond, the doorbell echoed through the living space and Adam leaped to his feet. He gave Bo’s shoulder a squeeze on his way to the door. “Kyle’s here to talk shop. He was also tasked with dinner provisions. Cross every appendage you have that he didn’t cook it himself or we’ll be going hungry tonight.”

  Bo labored to his feet and met Adam and Kyle in the kitchen. Adam scowled as he peered into a reusable insulated shopping bag. On the other side of the room, Kyle lounged against the counter with a Cheshire cat grin in place.

  “What the hell is this shit?” Adam poked a finger into the bag. He pulled his arm back a second later as if something had bitten him. “It’s spongy. Why is it spongy?”

  “It’s tripe, you big baby. It’s good for you. Lots of protein.”

  “Tripe?” Adam screwed up his face. “Da fuck is tripe?”

  “It’s the lining of an animal’s stomach. In this instance, a cow’s.” Kyle’s deep laughter rolled through the room when Adam’s eyes widened. Bo couldn’t help but join him.

  “Count me out.” Adam shoved the bag away and folded his arms, grumbling under his breath as he glared between Bo and Kyle. “Glad you assholes think my suffering is amusing. If I pass out from starvation later, you’re both fired.”

  A tingle of unease raced up Bo’s spine but dissipated into something far more debauched when Adam shot him a wink and made a show of stomping over to the refrigerator and tugging it open.

  Kyle angled a look at Bo. He waggled his brows, shoved off the counter, and descended on Adam’s turned back. A high-pitched peal of laughter preceded a flash of movement. Almost quicker than Bo could process the sight, Adam had Kyle pinned to the tile floor.

  Jealousy sizzled under Bo’s skin like the heated jolt of a frayed low-voltage wire. He’d give about anything to have Adam straddle him that way. If even for a moment.

  Maybe he should take note and test out Adam’s tickle spots sometime?

  The thought of running his fingers over that hard flank of muscle had Bo shifting on his feet. His sore body ached as he did, and he welcomed the distraction. Tickling his boss was on the no-go list. As was even the thought of touching him. Anywhere. Ever.

  “Bo, I know we’re not at the ‘I’ll help you bury the body’ stage of our relationship, but have we at least reached ‘feign ignorance’?” Adam grunted when Kyle bucked beneath him. He repositioned so his body covered Kyle’s, did some sort of scissor-kick with his legs, and three seconds later, Kyle was on his stomach with both arms trapped behind his back. “Because there’s a distinct possibility I’m gonna murder this son of a bitch.”

  Hearing Adam insinuate they were at any stage of a relationship sent a giddy wave through Bo’s belly. He grinned. “My loyalties are with you, boss. Just tell me where to find the shovel.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who got you this job, Wilkins.” Kyle’s voice was muffled and came out on a wheeze when Adam shifted his bulk higher up the man’s back. “You can both thank me later. I expect an invite to the wedding.”

  Thank him? For what? And whose wedding? Before Bo could question the bizarre statements, Adam growled and twisted one of Kyle’s arms until it looked almost broken.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, man, uncle. Uncle.”

  Adam released Kyle and sprang to his feet with an incomprehensible sprightliness. He held out a hand and yanked the older man upright, giving him one of those back-slapping, one-armed guy hugs before shooting a cheesy grin Bo’s direction. “I dunno about you, dude, but I’m not eating spongy cow innards. Whataya say to a little Grubhub delivery?”

  “Sold.” Bo slipped his phone out of his back pocket and pulled out the closest barstool. When he climbed on, the overworked muscles in his butt screamed, and he winced at the injustice.

  Kyle guffawed and jabbed an elbow into Adam’s ribs. “And you said my plan didn’t work. Looks like you found some time for fun, after all.”

  “For fuck’s sake, asshole.” Adam turned cherry red, his eyes flashing a dangerous stormy gray. “Bo’s sore because he’s been working out with me. That’s it. Leave it alone.”

  “Huh.” Kyle’s twinkling eyes shifted to meet Bo’s. “So, you’ve got him going back for his GED and you’re keeping his grumpy old bear ass company in the gym? You’re an angel, Wilkins.”

  Bo’s overcharged brain zeroed in on the words “bare ass,” and a whimper caught in his throat. The visual that supplied almost overrode all other thought. Almost. He might be young and uneducated, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d gotten the gist of their conversation.

  He wasn’t sure what plan Kyle referred to, but he was pretty sure it involved his backside being sore for a much more enjoyable reason than overexertion in the gym.

  Why was life so frickin’ unfair? He and Adam clearly wanted the same things, yet they weren’t allowed to have them. If it weren’t for his drive to give Lulu the best future possible, something he’d be putting at risk by even considering such a thing, Bo would jump to his feet and kiss Adam senseless. Sore muscles and Kyle’s presence be damned.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Neither were any of the other endless fantasies he’d conjured up over the past week and a half.

  Sighing, Bo offered Kyle the best smile he could muster. “I’m not an angel, Mr. Bryant. I’m a dedicated employee. That’s all.”

  When Adam hung his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Bo’s heart twisted. Maybe someday they could be the more they both wanted.

  Maybe. Someday.

  Chapter Eleven

  ADAM scrubbed both hands over his face and stifled a groan. He glanced at Bo, who sat on the floor opposite him at the stone coffee table, frowning at the workbooks spread before him. His pencil tapped in an irritated rhythm against the pages.

  Everything about Bo’s concentration and drive to succeed during this grueling cram session drove Adam to the brink of insanity. Not out of jealousy, even though his own abilities paled in comparison to Bo’s, but because his passion, resilience, and dedication were so goddamn sexy.

  Over the past month, Bo had blossomed under the stress that weighed Adam down. His excitement was palpable. It lit up the room and lifted Adam’s spirits unlike anything else. Anytime he wanted to give up, one look at Bo would ease his frustrations and remind him why he’d committed to this in the first place.

  Because it meant the world to Bo.

  “You feeling as fried as I am?”

  Bo’s frown deepened into a scowl. He dropped his pencil and met Adam’s stare. “Who cares how much Jack spent on his new car? And why does it matter that it was $2,400 less than five times the $5,000 selling price of his old one? What benefit does the ability to figure this out provide for my future?”

  Chuckling, Adam tucked his thumb under the cover of his book and flipped it closed. Getting his GED might be a dream come true for Bo, but that didn’t mean he was immune to the stress. He just handle
d it better than Adam because it came with a prize at the end. One that meant much more to Bo.

  “I’m sure they’d say all this ‘knowledge’ adds to our critical thinking skills or some shit like that.”

  “I don’t think my critical thinking skills have any more room to grow. I’m at capacity.” Bo moaned and let his forehead drop to the table. “I’m too old to learn high school math. My brain doesn’t work that way anymore.”

  The mutual teasing about the gap in their age hadn’t let up with time. In fact, as they grew more comfortable together, the razzing only increased. There was no doubt Bo’s remark had been meant as a proverbial jab to his elderly ribs.

  Adam stretched his leg under the table and gave Bo’s bent knee a shove with his foot. “Watch it with the ‘too old’ comments, pipsqueak. How do you think I feel? At least you’ve been helping Lulu with her homework all these years. Keeping your exposure level up. The last time I gave any of this shit a second thought, you were still in diapers.”

  “I was not.” Bo’s head whipped up and his eyes flashed with mock indignation. “Are you trying to say I was still wetting my pants at six years old?”

  A bark of laughter rose up Adam’s throat. “Your addition’s a little off there, Einstein. By your calculations, I was taking freshman math at nineteen.”

  “Nuh-uh. You would’ve been fourteen or fifteen. Which means I would’ve been….” Bo tapped his pencil against the thick black upper frame of his browline glasses. His head tilted as his clearly overmathed brain struggled to work out the simple equation.

  “If I was fifteen, you would’ve been at the terrible-two stage. As stubborn as you are, I bet your folks knew better than to try and potty train you early. So, yes, my guess is you were definitely still pissing your pants the last time I did high school algebra.”

  Bo’s jaw sagged. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his brows drew together. “Jeez. You really are old.”