The ETA From You to Me Read Online Free PDF

repayment.”
     
    Clayton’s eyes flicked over to him, and then back to the road, and Grant realized what he’d just said.  “I mean--not like a date, because I’m sure that’s not cool. I  mean, not cool like--not cool because its homo, because I love gay people. I’m so gay that I have a ton of gay moments--but, shit--I mean, not gay like, I’m going to crawl into your bed at night and jerk off on your face, which, by the way, creepers do that, not gay people. I meant gay like, I appreciate the human body aaaand I’m shutting up now,” Grant slouched down into his seat until his knees were pressing up against the glove box, face burning hot in mortification at his lack of brain-to-mouth filter.
     
    Clayton snorted, attempting to disguise the sound as a  mild cough, and reached for the CB radio. Grant could see just by looking at him that Clayton’s mouth was twitching with the effort not to smile. “49’s dropping off this jeep and going out for a bite to eat. I’m third out for tonight’s on-call, so I’ll be taking Grant home and then getting some sleep.”
     
    Since Clayton was distracted with checking traffic before turning, Grant took that moment to do a tiny little fist pump with his hand tucked up next to his thigh. Clayton, despite his rough and tough façade, was actually a pretty okay guy. That alone had relief uncoiling the anxiety that had built up in his chest just seconds prior.
     
    “Alrighty. Make sure to cover up, boys.” Alyse chimed back. Grant's anxiety returned tenfold, making him choke on a strangled laugh that sounded more like a deer mating call than anything. Thinking about deer sex just made Grant wince internally, because that was an awful analogy.
     
    Determined to somehow deny Alyse’s underhanded accusations, (because, seriously, he was gay, but he wasn‘t in quest of every tappable booty in sight) he reached for the radio, only to have Clayton snatch it out of his hand. Dismayed, Grant tried to grab it back, only for Clayton to stretch his arm over his other shoulder and out of Grant's reach. Grant's seatbelt kicked in halfway through his attempted lunge for the radio, strangling him and making Grant gag for air.
     
    Clayton gave him a warning stare--between watching the road and making sure not to swerve into traffic--and waited until Grant was completely back in his seat before he started to slowly put the mic back. Grant's hand hadn’t even come up all the way for a second grab when Clayton was jerking his hand out of reach a second time.
     
    Grant huffed, crossing his arms and flopping back into his seat. Too much time had passed for him to even bother saying anything on the radio, which Clayton seemed to know, because he replaced the mic on its cradle without any problems. Clayton was far too possessive of his mic, and Grant opened his mouth to inform him of that very fact when Clayton cut him off.
     
    “None of that cheap stuff, either. I‘m not one of your poor friends looking for a handout.”
    Grant, taken aback, openly gaped. “Uh, dude. Part time job? College kid?” There was no way he was going to dish out heaps of money for a not-date with Clayton, especially if he wasn’t going to get any free orgasms from it.
     
    Clayton glanced over at Grant, his eyebrows lifting up to his hairline. “Uh, dude. Fixing your jeep? Working overtime so your scrawny ass doesn‘t bake in the sun for another hour?” His voice hitched up an octave, openly mocking Grant in a way that really didn’t bother Grant all that much. That was probably because  he was too busy having an internal parade at the idea that Clayton had been looking at his ass enough to deem it scrawny.
     
    Knowing he‘d been bested, Grant narrowed his eyes, muttering, “touche,” under his breath. Clayton didn’t even bother hiding the crooked smirk that came to his lips this time, turning into their business lot and driving in a half circle so that he could back Grant's jeep into the