Donnchadh - Lynn Hagen Page 0,6

“Like what’s your last name?”

“Uh-uh.” Getty shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

Damn. That was normally Donny’s line.

Fine, then Donny would have to find out another way. Like looking at Getty’s driver’s license when the human feel asleep.

But it was Donny who dozed off.

When he woke, Getty was gone. All the moves Donny usually pulled on his lovers had just been pulled on him. And fuck, he didn’t like it one bit.

The player had just gotten played.

* * * *

Getty crept back into the house, praying his dad and Bimbo were asleep. He didn’t want any questions, and Getty just wanted to bask in the glow of what he’d just done.

He would’ve stayed to cuddle, because damn, it had felt good lying in Donnchadh’s arms. But Getty was a realist. Donnchadh was out to have a good time, nothing more. And if Getty would’ve stuck around, he was dead certain his dumb ass would’ve fallen for the guy.

Men like Donnchadh didn’t settle down. Not with men like Getty. A nerd who practically lived in his bedroom in front of his laptop screen. Donnchadh probably preferred high maintenance men, and Getty was about as low maintenance as they came.

After showering and changing into something comfortable, Getty opened his laptop and got to work. He wasn’t the least bit sleepy. His body still tingled from being with Donnchadh, and he was too wired to close his eyes.

As he stared at the coding, all he saw was sinewy skin, long, pretty dreads, muscles that gleamed with sweat, and fuck, he could still taste Donnchadh on his lips, even though Getty had brushed his teeth.

The kisses they’d shared left Getty feeling breathless, giddy, and tattered because he would never see the guy again. Donnchadh’s touch had set Getty on fire, burning him up and leaving him in ashes.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on something else, something that didn’t leave him needy and wanting more from a stranger who was probably after his next conquest.

Getty sighed and closed his laptop. He rubbed his temples, restless and now hungry. He changed into street clothes and grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys before heading out to the diner.

It was still early, but The Diner Train opened at five. Getty had twenty minutes to kill before it opened, so he parked and played a game on his phone, his treacherous mind returning to that motel room over and over again.

Normally he could forget about sexual encounters after they were over, but damn, he couldn’t get the stranger off his freaking mind. Getty rolled his window down and enjoyed the gentle breeze wafting inside the car.

A sedan pulled up, and Cyril, the owner, got out. He looked over at Getty. “Bored or very hungry, Getty?” Cyril’s smile was warm and genuine. He was such a nice guy.

“Both,” Getty said. “Dying for a cup of coffee.”

Cyril nodded his head toward the diner. “Come on in. I’ll get one started for you. The staff should be here any moment, so at least you’ll have company.”

Getty was grateful for any kind of distraction. Anything that would take his mind off Donnchadh. “I can start the pot if you want,” Getty offered.

“Knock yourself out. I’ll be in the back getting everything started if you need anything else.” Cyril headed to the kitchen as Getty went behind the counter. It took him all of five minutes to figure out how to work the machine. It was easy enough. Dump the packet of grounds into a filter and fill the top part with water.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Getty’s eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the smell of coffee brewing. The only thing better than a fresh cup of coffee in the morning was sex.

Damn it. Now he was thinking of Donnchadh again.

“I wasn’t aware Cyril hired a new server,” Kenny said when he came through the door. “Good morning, Getty.”

Getty chewed on his lower lip, wondering if Kenny was serious. “He didn’t hire me. Cyril told me to start a pot.”

“Relax.” Kenny came behind the counter. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.” Getty smiled. “Good morning.”

“I can take over from here.” Kenny made a shooing motion. “Go have a seat and I’ll pour you a nice, hot cup of coffee.”

Getty slid onto a stool and strummed his fingers. He should’ve brought his laptop with him. With no other customers, he could’ve gotten some work done while listening to Kenny putter around.

He opened his mouth and closed it. Getty had started to ask if Kenny