As soon as my hand went over his ear and my fingertips brushed against his hair, I knew August Stiel was going to be a problem for me. Hell, I’d really known it the minute I’d seen him in the lobby with those little furrows of worry in his brow. There was something about him that seemed tucked away and vulnerable, and fuck if that didn’t strike a chord with me.

I wanted to rub my thumb over those two frown lines on his forehead and smooth them out. For good.

As my fingers slid into the hair behind his ear, I closed my eyes and swallowed. The job, Saint. Focus on the contract Stiel could bring to Lanny. Remember who this guy is. Rich kid like the spoiled pop star—Trouble with a capital T.

I cleared my throat. “So, once you hit and push with the ear clap, you use your other fist for the punch. The ear clap is meant to push them off balance so you can surprise them with the punch,” I explained. I demonstrated with a slow-motion punch that landed as softly as a whisper to his jaw. His skin was warm and scruffy against the backs of my knuckles, and I pulled my hand away.

“Now you try.”

August looked down at his feet and gulped, sending out massive insecurity vibes. That was bad. Just as he began to cup his hand and swing his arm around, I reached out to stop him.

“Wait,” I said, surprising him. “I might have rushed into this part. Let me go back to the part about carrying yourself with confidence and surety. You want to almost strut—back straight, head held high, making eye contact with those around you. The best thing to do is to give off a don’t fuck with me vibe as you move through a potentially dangerous situation.”

“I know,” he said, looking up at me and narrowing his eyes. “You already explained that part. I got it.”

“Then why do you look scared of me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened and his lips tightened. “I’m not scared of you. Quite the opposite actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t scare me in the slightest.”

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes, but I detected a slight tremor in his voice. “Really.”

“Dude, I’m like intimidating,” I said like an idiot.

He barked out a nervous laugh. “No. You’re not. You’re a kitten.”

Was this guy for real?

“A kitten? Me? Are you joking?”

He crossed his arms and looked me up and down, making my skin flush and my boxer briefs way too brief.

“A sleepy, purring kitten,” the smaller man concluded. “Not intimidating. You have a baby face, to be honest. Is that why you have to do this instead of security in the field like a real bodyguard?”

Oh. No. He. Didn’t.

“I am a real bodyguard.”

“Right,” he smirked again. “Sorry. Sure you are. Didn’t mean to offend you.”

I must have been wrong. Maybe this guy was as much of a snob as my pop star client had been. “Oh my god, are you for real right now?”

“It’s okay, Saint. I still trust you to teach me self-defense. You probably have to use these moves sometimes too.”

I felt my lips open. “Mr. Stiel, sir,” I said with a tight jaw, “I’ll have you know in addition to being what you call a ‘real’ bodyguard, I was a navy fucking SEAL. I’m taller than most humans, and I’m trained to kill. There’s not a single moment of my life when someone is stupid enough to think they can take me in a fight.”

The little man fucking shrugged. “Okay. Whatever you say. What’s next?”

I wanted to punch the guy. Just goddamned deck him and walk away. Well, maybe after kicking him too. But there was something in his eyes for just a brief second that exposed the truth. He was terrified. Not of me, clearly, but of something. And he was trying every coping technique in the book not to show it.

I let out a breath and smiled. “Okay, tough guy. I guess this is your way of asking me to stop going easy on you, huh?”

He set his jaw at me, but his eyes skittered away. “Bring it on.”

An hour later, we were both pouring sweat from practicing basic defense moves over and over until they were second nature for him. I’d grabbed his wrist, engulfed him from behind in a bear hug, and locked him in a choke hold. At every turn, I couldn’t help but feel his sleek, lean body beneath my fingers and the smell of his clean sweat as my nose pressed against the back of his head. Had Fate planned to fuck with me that evening, she could not have sent a more perfect temptation. He was beautiful but prickly. And I wanted nothing more than to run my fucking hands all over him. Preferably naked and in bed. Or, hell, against a wall would be fine too.

“Now I know why there’s such a thing as Gronk Flakes,” my client muttered under his breath as he threw himself down onto the mat on his back. I’d announced our session complete after the fourth time he’d taken me down to the mat. “I used to think it was awfully egotistical to have a cereal named after you, but if his workouts are anything like this, I get it.”

I couldn’t help but snort. “What are you talking about?”

“Gronk Flakes. Well, and Flutie Flakes too. Then you’ve got the ice hockey ones like Hull-O’s. But who in Texas is really going to get their hands on those?”

“Are you talking about Wheaties?”

He looked at me like I was dim.

“No. These are specially branded… you know what? Never mind. It’s not like I’d ever eat them. I only eat cereal out of mini boxes.”

I stared at him until his nostrils flared in defiance. “What? It’s not weird. Cereal tastes different in mini boxes. It’s the opposite of mini champagne bottles. With champagne, the smaller the vessel, the poorer the quality. It has to do with surface area in the storage and fermentation stages. But with cereal—” He stopped himself and looked up at me in horror. “Sorry, stupid. Never mind.”

“Cereal in small boxes is less likely to crush. Less weight on the bottom pieces,” I explained. “Less crumbly mess.”

“Yeah, but how do you know that?”

“I only eat cereal out of mini boxes,” I admitted. “My siblings think I’m crazy.”

August Stiel studied me from his position on the mat. “Liar.”

“Did you know that there are two types of cereal box flaps, and they’re gendered?”

He sat up. “Slotted and slotless.”

I nodded and grinned at him. “Female and male.”

“That sucks. Why the hell do cereal boxes need to be gendered?”

“But mini boxes…”

“Don’t have tabs!” His face lit up with a giant smile. “Enby flakes. Who knew?”

I wanted to keep that sunshine smile on his face. It was the most relaxed I’d seen him all evening.

“My brother once talked my mother into buying a box of Hannah Montana cereal. Since we normally ate generic bran flakes or plain oatmeal, it was a big deal.”

August’s eyes sparkled. “You’re kidding. How did it taste?”

“A thousand times better than bran flakes but not nearly as good as the Snoop Loops a buddy in the navy picked up on shore leave somewhere in the South Pacific. Came with a free rap music CD inside and everything.”

It took him a minute to realize I was pulling his leg, but when he did the giggle that came out of him was enough to make the entire Gemma punishment worth it. What I would give to hear it again and again.

“You’re such a bullshitter,” he said. “But I know Hannah Montana cereal actually existed because my sister had some. She also convinced our housekeeper to get Bart Simpson Peanut Butter Crunch cereal.”

“Gross.”

“No kidding. Then my cousin thought it would be a funny joke if he brought me Sprinkle Spangles. I guess at that time he already…” He paused and took a deep breath before looking at me with a fake smile. “You know what? Never mind. Mini cereals for the win, right?” He held out a hand to high-five but then quickly turned it into a fist to bump.

We ended up with an odd kind of accidental secret handshake before he jumped up and mumbled something about needing to get out of there.

I led him back into the locker room for a shower and showed him where everything was. There was no way I could take my shower in the large open room at the same time without getting a giant hard-on in front of him, so I told him I was going to find us some bottled water while he showered and dressed. For some reason he looked relieved that I wasn’t going to be showering with him, and I wondered if he’d somehow pegged me as gay.

In my internet search of him, I’d seen many photos of him with the same beautiful woman on his arm, so I assumed he didn’t play for my team. Even if he wasn’t dating the television news reporter, he was clearly into women. I hoped he wasn’t homophobic, but the way he seemed to relax after I announced I was going to leave him be to shower alone wasn’t a good sign. Then again, he’d referred to the nongendered cereal box as nonbinary, which was a sign he at least had some passing familiarity and comfort with sexual identity terms.

As I left the locker room to grab some water, I saw my brother Otto walking out of the weight room with his husband, Seth. We clapped palms in a kind of shake before walking to the water fountain between the two locker room doors.

Otto’s big toothy grin was a sight for sore eyes. “Dude, that pop star? Really?” he accused.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t. It’s bad enough Lanny pulled me out of the field.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m stuck here in Hobie until the media shit with Gemma dies down,” I confessed. “I’m lucky to still have my job, to be honest.”

Otto looked sympathetic. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but you have to know you’re the only person he’d let get away with that kind of shit.”

“Yeah. I know. He’s been great. I don’t know why he gives me so many chances,” I said.

Seth looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Because you’re cute and you have a tight ass?” he teased.

“Hey!” Otto barked with a scowl. “That’s my brother you’re talking about, and you’re taken.”

Seth grabbed Otto’s butt. “I was talking about you, Wilde Man.”

I laughed at his blatant attempt to rile Otto up. “Plus, Lanny’s straight as an arrow. But speaking of, you two want to go out later and maybe find some trouble? I could use a little action tonight to help drown my sorrows. Doesn’t Fig and Bramble do LGBT night on Wednesdays?”

“Yes. And there’s actually more action there than you’d expect, especially since the resort opened up by the lake. I’ll see who else wants to go. Give us a few minutes to talk to Neckie about something, and then I’ll walk over to the pub with you while Seth checks in at the sheriff’s office. You staying at the ranch?”

I shrugged. “I guess. Doc didn’t pick up when I called him on the way to town.”

“Well, you can’t stay with us. Tisha is at her mom’s, and we have plans,” Otto said, making the last word sound positively filthy.

“Gross. If all else fails, I’ll sleep in my truck,” I muttered as I reached to fill two paper cups with water from the fountain.

The two of them wandered off, flirting and touching as if they were still the teenage lovebirds they’d once been.

Seeing them together like that was heartwarming but strange too. When Seth had moved away in high school and dropped my brother with little explanation, it had gutted Otto. He’d wound up joining the navy with me after graduation to get away from his broken heart. After watching him mourn the loss of his soul mate, I’d vowed to myself to never, ever fall in love. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak if things went wrong.

As I watched the two of them walk away, I felt emptier than normal. It was a feeling I’d never noticed before until recently. Otto reconnecting with Seth had been a dream come true, but it had also caused me to rethink everything. How could I not believe in love after seeing them together?

And then when my brother Hudson had fallen for a quirky Irishman earlier this year, I’d been shocked. Hud had been the only straight one of us brothers. But watching him find someone to love the way he loved Charlie had awoken a need in me. Maybe it was my age. Or perhaps it was that my life was finally less chaotic now that I was out of the navy. There was something obviously missing now. And it had never been more apparent than when I’d spotted little August Stiel standing at the front of Twist looking lost and nervous.

After shaking off the ridiculous self-pity, I took the cups of water back to the locker room and set them down on the bench by August’s workout clothes before stripping my own off and striding into the showers. Regardless of how the client felt about showering with me, I was going out for drinks tonight and needed to wash the sweat off before getting dirty again with a cute trick.

I tried to stay far away from him and not look at his body, but who was I kidding? His bare ass was right there, and it was gorgeous. High and tight, rounded and pale. I imagined lowering to my knees and sinking my teeth into those firm cheeks before sinking my—

Fuck.

Just as I began to look away, he turned and saw me. I quickly put my hand over my cock as if I was rinsing it or washing it. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but it wouldn’t take long if I kept looking at my client’s body under the shower spray.

One more hour, Saint, and you can flirt with someone at the pub. Stop thinking about the client. Just wait one more hour.