Saturday night, and time to hit the town. Cliff, Pax, and the trio headed to the Christmas gig at Untamed.

The trio bickered in the back seat of Cliff’s car. Correction, Luca and Henry bickered, while Bianca hummed and nodded, taking in both boys’ point of view.

Pax darted glances at Cliff and chewed on his lip. It felt different heading out with the guys tonight. This time there was no need to distract Cliff but . . . he wanted Cliff distracted by him.

Nothing physical was at stake. He’d gotten his band the gig; Henry seemed happy. Pax was playing with Serenity Free once more.

Yet.

He bit his lip again. When Cliff glanced over, Pax smoothly snapped down the visor to check himself out.

Hair swept up stylishly. Freckle darkened with a smidge of eyeliner. Lips gnawed to death.

He peeked at Cliff calmly driving them toward the night of his dreams. Black button-up shirt, jeans, and brown leather shoes that complemented his tortoiseshell glasses.

Cliff flicked his blinker on and turned onto the main street. “How long will we pretend you weren’t up to something earlier?”

Pax hummed thoughtfully as he snapped the visor into place. “I’m thinking a long time. So long, I’ll never need to tell you that Bianca was sneaking into your room on my orders.”

Cliff changed gears. “Find anything interesting?”

“Nope.” Pax fiddled with his seat belt, his heart unusually erratic. Untamed beamed ahead in bright neon colors.

“What did you find that has you so agitated?”

“Your stash of porn.”

Cliff rubbed his hands over the steering wheel. “I don’t have porn.”

“Which is exactly why I’m agitated. It’s dismaying and needs immediate remedying.”

Cliff parallel parked, gaping at Pax as he pulled up the handbrake.

Holy hell, it was hot in this car.

Pax shot out into the night. The fresh air did nothing to soothe his nerves, nor did Buster’s bellowing or Henry’s skittish avoidance of the bouncer.

Never mind. Didn’t matter. In half an hour, he’d be on stage as part of Serenity Free.

And music.

Music had never failed him.

Serenity Free was setting up on stage when Pax and company strode inside. Generic rock music blasted from speakers and a squad of summer students quirked their hips on the dance floor.

Booths surrounded a half-mirrored wall, and in the far nook, a pool table and dartboard sat vacant.

The floor was sticky under his combat boots, and the air was thick with sweat and the sweet smell of spilled soda and vodka. The dance floor lights switched back and forth from red and green.

The trio left to find a booth, leaving Pax and Cliff staring between the stage and dance floor. Pax bumped Cliff’s arm. “The guys are calling me over. Stay where you can watch me.”

Cliff whisked around. “Wait. You’re playing?”

“Well, I don’t look this good just for you.”

“I thought we were here for Bianca and her underage rite of passage. God, now you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Oh yes, that, too.”

“You’re back with the band?”

Pax squirmed. “I told you as much.”

“I hoped you’d come to your senses.”

“You should know by now how senseless I am.” Pax tried to laugh it off, but the ache of Cliff’s words remained. He was right, dammit. Pax and the band had broken the moment they had kicked him out. The glue holding them together was adequate at best.

The group would break again. Pax could feel it. Hell, he wanted it to break again. But not yet. After Christmas.

If he planned to be anything in the music world, he needed to say he had played support for Lone Whistle and the Deserted.

“Concentrate on the music and me,” Pax said.

Cliff snagged his fingers, and for a long second, they remained knotted. Cliff let go. His gaze stroked Pax’s face, his freckle. “What did your mates do when Blake hit you?”

“They didn’t know why. They don’t know that I . . .”

A group of laughing girls sashayed behind Cliff and he stepped closer. The night had barely begun, yet Pax was already sweating.

“Know what I think?” Cliff said, low.

Did he want to know Cliff’s thoughts? Yes. No. “What?”

“They’d have done the same thing as when you pretended to be drunk.”

Cliff’s eyes penetrated his as though he were reading Pax’s feelings about that night. How his mates leaving him had gutted him. How stupid he was to expect anything different. How raw he’d felt when Cliff had taken him home.

Taken him home and tenderly helped him into bed.

A stinging slap on his back stole him out of the moment. He twisted to Tony’s slick smirk. “Bro, we need you up there.”

They didn’t. They both knew it.

Pax slunk with him toward the stage. “Please,” he said to Cliff. “The music and me.”

Pax played and played and played.

In the middle of a sea of dancers, Cliff stood unmoving, eyeing Pax the entire time.

Pax poured himself into the music, hoping it would say everything that Pax couldn’t. But it felt strained and futile.

Cliff did not even grin, let alone smile.

Damn, what would it take to melt him?

The last number ended and Pax packed his guitar. “Tony, would you do me a solid and take this to the practice room?”

“You not hitting the room with us for some drinks and more practice?”

“Nah, I have friends here tonight. Gonna hang out here a half hour first.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.”

“Okay, bro. I’ve got your guitar.”

He excused himself from his mates, needing to confront Cliff.

Cliff was walking away.

“Hold up,” Pax yelled over the generic thumping that had replaced Serenity Free.

Cliff paused midstep, then continued weaving around grinding couples.

Pax cut through a marvelously parting crowd. The perks of being a rock star. “Wait.”

Cliff turned around, rimmed by dancers. Glitter speckled the air around them.

Red light glowed over Cliff’s cheek, jaw, glasses. “What am I waiting for?” Cliff pushed up his glasses, sleeve buttons loose. Not from wildly dancing, Pax knew. “I’d like to check on Bianca now.”

Pax stepped closer. Close enough to feel the tail end of Cliff’s breath. “You didn’t dance.”

“I didn’t feel like it.”

“Because Serenity Free was playing?”

“Because you were playing with Serenity Free.”

They stared at each other. No words, yet a hundred feelings passed between them.

“Look, I know, all right?” Pax folded his arms in frustration. “The music . . . it didn’t ground me. Not like it did when we . . . It should have made me feel complete, and it didn’t.”

“Because you don’t belong with them.”

Pax carded a hand through his hair.

Cliff’s sincerity bowled through him. “You belong with better.”

“With you, then.” Pax lightened the moment with a chuckle. “How about you quit your criminal studies and start a rock band with me?”

Cliff was not amused.

“Asking too much? Fine.” His tongue darted over the seam of his lips, and Cliff followed the motion.

Pax glanced at the stage where the band was still packing up. His limbs grew heavy and numb, and he hiccupped nerves. Instead of stuffing them away, he let his nervousness race over his skin.

He slipped into Cliff’s space and wrapped his goose bumped arms around his neck. The heat of their bodies collided. “What about a dance?”

He undulated against Cliff in time to the music.

Cliff gripped his waist, warning Pax they had an audience that would gossip about everything they saw Pax Polo do. “Everyone’s eyes are on us.”

“Oh, good. It’s been a while.”

A tiny smirk. “This is the way you want to come out to your band?”

He’d never been able to spit out the truth to the band, yet with Cliff right there, he felt courageous—and a little cocky. Like Cliff might cushion his fall.

“Won’t be with them long,” he said, his voice wavering. Cliff’s grip tightened supportively. “Let ’em think whatever they want. I’m sick of playing straight.”

Cliff’s jaw grazed Pax’s cheek. “I doubt you’ve played straight a day in your life.”

Pax pulled back and their gazes met. “Please dance with me?”

Cliff didn’t hesitate. He moved to the beat of the music, a slow rhythmic swiveling of his hips, steering Pax with him. “It’s nothing more than dancing.”

“Of course not.” Pax waited a beat. “The rest can wait for later.”

Cliff spun Pax around and pulled him snugly against him. Pax’s back and ass met Cliff’s warm, solid front. Pax stretched his arms out and looped them behind Cliff’s back.

Cliff’s chin bumped along his shoulder and up the base of his neck. “Just because I’m gay and you’re gay doesn’t mean we should be gay together.”

Pax rested his head back against Cliff’s shoulder. “No, but I’m a dick, and you’re a dick, and we both like dick, so . . .”

Pax ground his hips, and Cliff’s arousal—unmistakably hard as his own—pressed against his ass. He squeezed Cliff’s nape. “Please say that’s a yes to bumping uglies?”

Pax turned, facing Cliff again. Desire lurked behind Cliff’s frustration, and Pax fingered Cliff’s loose sleeve. “You are finally letting your sister have a summer romance. Let yourself have one too?”

“Summer.” Cliff stopped swaying.

Pax tugged him, but Cliff didn’t budge. “This is not the end of the song, and people are still staring.”

“It’s late.”

“You and I need to have a discussion on what’s late. Also, and more importantly, what’s early.”

Cliff disentangled himself from Pax without a second glance and walked off the dance floor. Without bothering to watch the band’s reaction, Pax scurried after Cliff and Cliff sighed, “Got to find Bianca.”

They didn’t just find Bianca and the boys. Anna, aka Rapunzel, was sitting at their booth, too. Her long hair was pulled up in a perfect French twist and she wore a frame-hugging dress.

Did she know Cliff would be here? Was that why she came dressed like a straight man’s wet dream?

Pax rolled up his sleeves and made a show of flexing the muscle sporting his ink. He slung himself into the booth next to Anna before Cliff could claim the spot. Cliff looked marginally amused, as though he saw right through Pax.

Transparency was underrated.

Pax hooked Cliff’s gaze and winked as he slung an arm around Anna. “So, Anna, right? What’s your story? How do you know the shrew?”

Anna glanced at Cliff, who was sniffing Bianca’s Coke. “Is this the guy you were telling me about?”

“The one and only.”

“You didn’t say he was this cute.”

Cliff set the coke down, begrudgingly satisfied. His gaze flickered to Pax and then Anna. “He’s that cute.”

Pax grinned. Maybe Anna wasn’t so bad after all. “If he didn’t talk about my looks, what on Earth did he talk about?”

Anna hushed her voice. “He thinks you’re a musical genius.”

Yeah, Pax loved Anna. They would be very good friends. That hair twist suited her well, and she rocked that dress.

“Is that right?” he said, eying Cliff, who was concentrating a little too hard on the trio across from them.

Cliff tugged Luca off the bench and beckoned Bianca out. He halted Henry with the lift of his hand.

Bianca slid off the vinyl bench and stood in front of her brother. An over-the-top inspection began. Cliff tilted his sister’s chin and checked her eyes, then made her walk in a straight line.

When he asked her to huff in his face, Bianca narrowed her eyes. “I’m not drunk!”

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You don’t want to admit how amazingly talented Pax is,” she retorted.

Oh, God. This was the best day of Pax’s life. The women at this booth were kindred spirits.

Cliff snagged Pax’s gaze. “Stop preening.”

“Not until you say it,” Pax goaded. “Tell me how much of a genius I am.”

“I’d rather shoot darts.” Cliff turned and beelined toward the dartboard.

Luca and Henry looked at each other, then at Bianca. “Should we all join him?”

Bianca snorted and plucked up her drink. “No way am I playing with my brother.”

“He’s a bit wound up tonight, isn’t he?” Anna murmured with an amused glance at Pax.

“I’m working on it, guys. I’ve got this.” Pax excused himself from the booth and strutted to the gaming corner.

A line of girls stretched around the corner to the bathrooms, and a lone guy hunched at a blackened window under a belly of tinsel, but no one was playing at the pool table.

Pax leaned against the table, planting his hands on the smooth frame either side of him. His fingers tapped in time to the song puffing out of the speakers. The combined noise of music and conversation and hollers vibrated the air.

A group in the last booth before the gaming area had ordered chips, and the delicious salty aroma wafted to him.

Across from him, Cliff stood poised with a dart behind the throwing line. He rolled the dart between his fingers, adjusting his grip. His tongue darted out and his eyes pinched in concentration.

Like at the piano, Cliff held himself with a confidence that Pax could feel emanating toward him. It made his heart hop in his chest. Made arousal sweep through him so strong he had to shift.

Cliff threw the dart in a precise line, hitting the inner bullseye.

Pax gave him a slow clap. “Let me guess, you were imagining my face?”

Cliff glanced at him and shifted a second dart into his left hand. His cheek dimpled this time as he let the second dart fly.

Pax snuck right up to the board and whistled. Cliff had hit the inner bullseye. Twice.

Pax pulled the darts off—a third dart was wedged on a narrow outer rim. The metal buzzed in his fingers as he moved to Cliff. He handed the darts over.

Cliff angled his head for Pax to step aside. “Three numbers.”

“Twelve, six, eight. The inner colored sections.”

In quick succession, Cliff threw all three darts. Twelve. Six.

Eight.

A new song pulsed out of the speaker and Pax felt it thrumming through his feet. He looked Cliff right in the eye and murmured, “I think there’s a part of you that likes showing off.”

“You’re rubbing off on me.”

And Cliff joked again.

Cliff heeled toward the board and freed the darts. He gestured to Pax. “Want a shot?”

“I’m feeling great about myself right now, so I’m going to say no.”

Pax waited until Cliff had thrown two darts. When Cliff was positioned to toss the last one, Pax shoved his thumbs in his pockets, fingers framing his crotch, and willed the dart to veer off course. “Musical genius?”

Cliff landed a bullseye.

Was the man unshakeable?

Pax’s heart thumped against his ribcage. His palms were damp, his breathing weirdly thin, and his cock was so hard it hurt jammed inside his jeans.

Fuck, what was Cliff doing to him?

“Come on,” Pax pleaded. The shrew would pay for reducing him to begging. “Admit you love watching me play my instrument.”

Cliff clasped Pax on the nape and steered him toward the exit. A gusty breeze walloped him as Cliff herded him past Buster and around the side of the club.

He let go, and Pax voluntarily slammed himself back against the graffiti-tagged wall. “Why are we outside?”

Cliff’s gaze flickered to Pax’s pants. “Looked like you needed the fresh air.”

Pax canted his hips. “And here I thought the old Cliff was bursting free and we would suck each other off in the shadows.”

Cliff laughed. “If I were to suck you off, I promise it wouldn’t be in the shadows.”

“I think you get off on stringing me along.”

“A little bit.”

Pax flashed Cliff a hungry look. “I don’t understand why you don’t want all this.”

Cliff’s arm shot out against the wall beside Pax’s face and he leaned in. “You’re a smart guy.” Cliff smiled tightly and palmed Pax’s hard cock. Pax gasped, and pushed into his touch. Cliff squeezed. “You’ll figure out why I don’t claw your pants off and suck you right here, and when you do, you’ll back away. You’ll be relieved.” Cliff spoke into his ear. “More importantly, so will I.”

Cliff pushed off the wall, and the delicious friction against his dick left.

Pax gaped at Cliff. “You overestimate how smart I am.”

Cliff backed away. “I suppose that means I have to take it back.”

“Take what back?”

Cliff pushed his glasses up before turning the corner. “That you’re a musical genius.”

He disappeared, and Pax thumped his head against the wall. He groaned, laughed, muttered, and . . . fuck.

How Cliff made him smile.

His smile didn’t disappear until he sussed out details of their upcoming Lone Whistle gig with Serenity Free in the practice room.

The guys kept looking at him funny, and once they’d wrapped up what they’d perform on Christmas Eve, Pax met their looks. “You guys have a problem with anything you saw tonight?”

Tony shot a hand through his hair. “Nah, bro. It’s . . . it’s cool. Right, guys?”

Tim shrugged. “None of our business where you stick your sausage.”

“Well, if it affects the band and sales and—” Tony silently shot Ted’s response down. “Yeah, whatever man.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you and Blake . . .?”

Pax zipped up his guitar case and slung it over his shoulder. “Yeah. He’s a homophobic prick.”

“Okay, but did you, like, come on to him or anything?”

“What if I did?”

Tony shushed Tim up. “You saw the bruise. They settled the score. Let’s forget about it.”

Pax rubbed his shoulder under the guitar strap and shrugged the guys a “later.”

Cliff was right. If they’d known why Blake hit him, they would’ve done the same thing as when Pax had pretended to be drunk.

Nothing.

One last performance and he was out.

Cliff squirreled Pax away in the back seat as he drove them home. A deliberate move to keep Pax from getting flirty while he was driving, no doubt. Luca settled for the front seat, and Henry was acting predictably on Bianca’s other side, gooey-eyed and scowling at Luca whenever her attention shifted.

Cliff glanced at him in the rearview mirror twice. Pax was definitely counting.

“So,” he said under his breath to Bianca. “Is there anything else I should know about what makes the shrew tick?”

To the chagrin of both Henry and Luca, Bianca cupped her hands to Pax’s ear. “Are you joking or serious?”

Pax fidgeted. “Both?”

His eyes shot to the front and hit Cliff’s in the mirror once more.

That was it; she didn’t say anything else on the drive home.

But once he’d gotten ready for bed and schlepped to his room, he found Luca waiting on his bed with the walkie-talkie. He spoke into it and passed it to Pax with a sad frown.

He stared at Luca’s hunched form as he took the walkie-talkie.

“Monday.” Bianca’s voice came out thin. “Um, yeah. Be nice on Monday.”

“What’s Monday?” But as soon as he said it, he knew.

“The anniversary. Our parents . . .”

Bianca rushed a goodnight and Pax slumped onto the bed next to Luca.

“We have a new goal,” Pax said, voice gruff.

“Sì.”

“It’s important.”

“Yes.”

“And very obvious.”

Luca nodded. “We be extra nice on Monday.”

“And?”

“Distract them from the pain?”

Pax glanced at the angel. A cloud must have finished passing the moon, because she was glowing. “No, we don’t distract them from the pain. We help them face it.”