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Naked or not. They all say you’re the best.”
    Peter laughed. “Who said that?”
    “All of them. Hunter. Carl. Avery. Even Ken and I get the idea he doesn’t compliment people very often.” Nash sat down next to Peter without being invited, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.
    “That is a compliment. Ken is a great dancer. Just hope he doesn’t break a hip.” Peter grinned.
    “That’s rough. He’s not that old, is he?” Nash asked.
    “Not old, but for a dancer, he’s pushing the limit. He’s in good shape, but if I were him, I’d find another day job. Ken is a dreamer. He still thinks Prince Charming will ride in on a white limo and take him away to a mansion in the hills.” Peter sighed.
    “Dreams can be scary. I’m sorry yours was ruined.” Nash looked down at Peter’s ankle. Peter had kicked off his sneakers, and the scars were obvious even through the supportive tape.
    “Shit happens. You could’ve gotten killed in the Marines. I just broke an ankle, not my neck. I’m still dancing.” Peter sighed and finally looked at Nash. “What are you still doing here? We made the deal. I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a while, and crazy fans get the message and go away. Or they get arrested for being really over the top, but I don’t get those sorts of fans. So, a few days of bodyguard work, and you’re off the hook. I promise.”
    “You really can’t do any other kinds of dance?” Nash asked, ignoring him.
    Peter sighed. “I can but there are limits. My ankle can only take so much pressure and strain. It’s held together by screws and pins. This lets me design my routines around my injury. If a routine puts too my stress on my ankle, I can opt out. I don’t lose my job or anything. I can help the other guys with their dancing. I’ve tried other forms, but this is better.”
    “I get it. Sometimes you have to make a radical change to have things work. I was a wild teenager, and the military straightened me out. I swore I’d never go back to bars or gay clubs again. But it’s a job I can do. I’m not the one drinking and partying. Still, I couldn’t go on stage and do what you do.” Nash admired the man. Brave and confident.
    “So you were a rebel teen, and you’re still too good to shake your ass on stage like I do?” Peter stood up. “Look, we’ve sorted out the business stuff. Just go.”
    Nash had re-stepped on a nerve and froze for a second. He rarely shared his personal stuff, and this was exactly why. His image was all confidence and restraint. Not needing anyone’s help or approval was part of that. When he let down his guard, people misread him. “I couldn’t do what you do, but that doesn’t mean I’m judging it. I need my job, and you’re the one who made the move backstage. If that’s the sort of open sexual play you and the dancers engage in, count me out. That’s the only thing I’m judging.”
    Peter licked his lips and tapped his bad foot. “So you’re too good to shake your ass on stage, but you didn’t complain about getting your dick sucked backstage. For the record, no. That isn’t the normal backstage behavior. No, it’s not how everyone acts. We’re not in some big orgy back there every night. We’re serious about keeping the customers happy and earning a living. But dancers date each other or staff at times. It’s not all random sex. We’re not a bunch of male bimbos.”
    Nash stood up. He got it now. Peter was really about dancing and had drive. Nash liked Peter’s discipline and focus. The guy had serious skill to be able to do splits and contort his body that way. The sex wasn’t just a thank you . “I didn’t mean that. You’re serious about the dancing. I respect that, and I’m just not looking for random sex or games. I could do all I wanted of that in the Marines, believe me.”
    Peter grinned. “I believe you. I’m not a man-whore, either.”
    The attraction was mutual. Nash’s blood pounded for more. He pushed Peter back into