true. “Talk to you later.”
“Adjö,” Xavier said, disconnecting their call.
Roman slipped his phone into his back pocket as he stared into space. Two weeks. Thanks to Xavier, Roman only had fourteen days standing between Brett and him. He could survive that. Possibly. Damn. Roman didn’t understand how Brett had crawled under his skin like this. He had known there was something special about Brett. Roman just hadn’t expected this longing to be with Brett that kept swelling in his chest. He wanted to drop everything and move back to L.A. Roman fought the urge to stalk Brett like a complete psychopath. It wouldn’t be hard. He knew all Brett’s passwords online. Roman could really get crazy. That was not what he wanted, though. He needed Brett to feel the same. Roman’s heart demanded that Brett feel equally as insane about him. If Brett wasn’t willing to call or text him, he damn sure wouldn’t drop everything to come to Aspen to properly stalk Roman. Not that Roman expected that. He just wanted Brett to be willing to do it. Roman wanted to be special to him. With a growl, Roman headed to his bedroom to change. He had to work and no amount of overthinking things had solved anything yet. Maybe he would suck it up and be the one who called. His pride winced at the idea. Roman knew he was a mess. That didn’t change a thing. He would keep waiting for Brett. However long it took. He would be here waiting.
Fuck. Things weren’t going Brett’s way. When he had decided to go on this impromptu trip to Aspen, he hadn’t considered his arrival time. Funnily enough, though, he had thought a lot about the possibility Roman wouldn’t be alone when he got here. Instead, Roman wasn’t home. Since it was late on a Friday night, Brett should have known that. Weekends would be the big money maker for stripping, he imagined. Yet that hadn’t once crossed Brett’s mind while making the drive. He checked into his hotel room while trying to decide his next move. Considering the late time, the sensible choice would be to wait until morning to go see Roman, but then he was back to chancing Roman not being alone. Damn. He hadn’t thought this through. Brett had always been the world’s worst about getting an idea and running with it. He wanted Roman, so he had set out to get him the moment his doctor cleared him to travel. There was one option on the table, but it was a risky one.
Brett needed info. He knew where to get it, but he hated to ask. The last thing he wanted was to look desperate. Unfortunately, he had no other choice.
Brett: I need a favor from your husband. Please don’t ask any questions.
Falcon: Of course. You know I’ll always have your back. Whatever you need.
Brett: I need the address to where Roman works.
There was no going back now. Brett held his breath and waited. Three little dots danced on his phone for much longer than necessary, making Brett wonder if Falcon kept typing messages and deleting them. Finally, a new message appeared.
Falcon: If I can’t ask questions, may I give you a warning instead?
Brett: I’d rather you didn’t.
Falcon: Fair enough. It’s 1132 Anglers Way.
Brett: Thank you.
Falcon: You might not want to thank me just yet.
Brett: Fair enough.
This was something Brett had to do. While Brett went most places alone, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy this one time. He never went to strip clubs. Brett didn’t know if nude bars were the type of place people went alone. He also didn’t know why the nearly silent nondescript warehouse-looking building made the hair stand on the back of his neck, but it did. When he passed strip joints in L.A., they had flashing neon lights and signs that left no doubts to what the place offered. This place didn’t have any of that. In fact, it was so dark that Brett checked the address Falcon had given him twice before heading for the door. Part of him hoped Falcon had mistyped. Something didn’t feel right. As he approached the door, he realized the windows were blacked out, making the place seem darker. That made sense. The huge guard standing outside also seemed logical. After all, someone had to keep out underage people.
The beefy dude with dark hair held out his hand, stopping Brett. “Member or visitor?”
They had members. The no signs thing made a little