"He's watching again."
Jackson Davis shrugged. "Let him."
"It's creepy," Sean insisted.
Jackson rolled his eyes as he leaned over the green felt pool table and lined up for another shot. "He's just looking, Sean. He's not causing any harm." Jackson raised his head and glanced at the dark-haired man watching him from across the room. "Besides, he's kind of sexy."
"But, he's just...staring. It's eerie, dude."
Jackson chuckled. "Sean, they always stare." Men and women tended to stare at him. Jackson was used to it. He didn't even pay attention to it anymore.
Sean shook his head. "Not like this, man. This guy is, like, seriously obsessed with you. We've seen him in here every Friday night for almost two months, and every time he just sits back over there in his little corner and stares at you the entire time."
Jackson gave the man another covert look through his eyelashes. The man was still staring at him. It was a very focused look, centered directly on Jackson and nowhere else. The man had been staring at him with that same intense gaze every time Jackson saw him in the bar.
Sean was right. It was a little creepy. Jackson was used to men staring at him. His thick-muscled body, tall stature, and tight ass had a lot of men looking. Toss in the naturally tanned skin, the sunlight blond hair, and sea blue eyes, and Jackson had been told he was every gay man's wet dream.
He wasn't so sure. If he was supposed to be every gay man's wet dream, then what in the hell was he doing at a bar on a Friday night playing pool with his best friend instead of at home in bed with some hottie getting laid?
Jackson wished he could figure it out. He would be a much happier man. As it was, he was tired and once again facing a lonely bed when he got home tonight, which was just about how his life was every night. He should be used to it by now.
Jackson glanced at the man again. Yep, he was still staring. Jackson stood up straight and handed his pool cue to Sean. He was fed up with this. Without saying a word to Sean, Jackson walked away, crossing the room until he stood directly in front of the well-dressed man.
Jackson crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the man. He was used to his size and demeanor intimidating other people so it shocked him when the man simply raised a dark brown eyebrow at him then took a slow sip of his drink.
The guy didn't say anything. He simply continued to stare. He looked Jack up and down, an emotion shining in his eyes that Jackson couldn't quite place. It unnerved Jackson in a way that few things could. He felt like this stranger could see right into his soul and pick out his deepest, darkest secrets.
"Is there a reason that you keep staring at me?" Jackson bit out through his clenched teeth. He wanted to be done with this and go somewhere that didn’t make him feel like his inner most thoughts were on display.
The man merely smiled. "If you didn't want people staring at you, you wouldn't spend so much time at Mercury's Gym working on that sexy physique of yours now, would you?"
The cool, rusty tone of the man's voice sent shivers down Jackson's spine. "How'd you know that I work out Mercury's Gym?" Jackson asked, starting to feel increasingly nervous. Was this guy some creepy stalker dude?
The deep chuckle that filled with air was laced with amusement. "I know a lot about you."
"Like what?" Jackson challenged.
The smirk that crossed the man’s lips infuriated Jackson. "I know that you like to work out. You also spend every Friday night in here playing pool with your friend, Sean. You only drink light beer and never more than three and you always leave by midnight so that you can get to your job washing dishes at the cafe in the morning. And I know you prefer to be called Jackson instead of Jack."
"Have you been stalking me?" Jackson asked, feeling partly outraged and partly intrigued.
"I don't stalk," the man replied simply. "I have no need to."
Jackson's eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. "Who are you?"
Jackson was confused as he watched the man toss back the last of the drink in his hand and set the glass on the table. He should have been intimidated by Jackson's height if not his sheer body mass. He wasn't. He seemed to find it, and Jackson, amusing in some way.
The man grabbed his dark brown leather jacket and pulled it on over his crisp white shirt. He tossed a few dollar bills on the table, and then turned to look at Jackson. Jackson almost jumped when the man reached over and gently ran his thumb across Jackson's lips.
"Jackson," the man began as he took a step toward Jackson.
"Huh? Wha—" How did this man know his name?
The man leaned up, his lips close Jackson's ear, his deep masculine scent wafting over Jackson. "You know who I am, pretty boy." The softly whispered words sent shivers of longing down Jackson's body.
He stood there in a daze as the man smiled, then turned and walked away. He watched until the man left the bar and disappeared into the night. Jackson knew something profound had just happened but for the life of him, Jackson couldn't figure out what.