by Lynn Stark
“You didn’t answer my question. Will I be naked?”
“If you’re willing. We’ll probably cover a few bits and pieces.” The thought of scrutinizing those bits and pieces for a sketch, and then the painting, was enough to send Neville’s lust coursing through his veins. He was glad he was sitting down with the tablecloth close to his lap.
Neville smiled when Deacon laughed at that. It was a rich sound, sending shivers of pleasure over his skin.
“Have you painted nudes before?”
Neville nodded. “Yes, several times. When you’re an artist, it’s pretty much a given. I studied the human anatomy, too, so I could understand how the body was put together. Then there were the classes where we had male and female models.” It was how he had met two of his lovers.
Both had posed for one of his art classes. Neither man had been a good choice. Neville could see that clearly now, but back then he had been all starry-eyed and gullible, wondering why such hot men would be interested in him. There was no way he was going to tell Deacon about either of the models. Firstly, there was no reason to. He and Deacon were only beginning to form a friendship. Secondly, his past failed romances were too embarrassing to mention. Talking about them was like living them, and he didn’t want to do that.
As they ate for several minutes without speaking, Neville thought about how he would paint Deacon. Despite wanting to paint the man in the nude, he suddenly had an image in his mind.
“You know,” he said after finishing off his peas, “I think I would like to paint you in uniform.”
Deacon stared at him for a moment, and then a slow grin spread across his handsome face. “Are you intimidated by all this?”
The man was obviously flirting with Neville, and he wasn’t certain he knew what to do about it. Deacon was a nice man. Neville could do a lot worse and had. But did he really need to get involved with anyone right now? He was in the process of rebuilding his life. At some point he would probably want a lover, a long-term partner, yet it felt too soon for romance.
“No. Not at all,” he lied, forcing himself to look Deacon in the eye, hoping there weren’t any of those minute giveaways in his face as he did so.
Deacon stared at him for a moment. “Liar. You want to see me naked, but you don’t trust yourself. You might jump my bones.” He nodded. “I can understand that. I am a devilishly handsome stud.”
“Modest much?”
The conversation went off in another direction. Neville was relieved. He didn’t want to discuss nakedness a second longer. The more time he spent with Deacon, he knew that this was a man he could have as a good friend. Deacon was a matter-of-fact man. He was blunt to the point of painful, but not quite brutal. He asked Neville about what had brought him to Silver. Neville suspected Deacon already knew. After all, he was a police officer.
Neville didn’t make any excuses for his drug use. He had realized from almost the first moment that it was the dumbest thing he had ever done. The desperate need for his next fix, his next high, had taken over his life and pushed out everything else, including his beloved painting. There was no room for anything beyond getting the drugs. After losing his job, he had finally sunk to a new low. He’d done some rotten things to get the money, like stealing from his parents. The people who loved him the most had done what they needed to do. They called the police. Neville had been arrested, and when his father came to visit him in jail, he had reminded him about the program designed to help people recover and begin new lives away from familiar triggers.
Deacon walked with Neville back to his apartment building. Neville enjoyed the companionship and hoped that this was the beginning of a lasting friendship. He didn’t know what the future held. Who did? But he wanted friends. They helped stabilize a person’s life, and maybe that was what had been wrong with his previous life. He needed to be willing to spend time with people, not just his paints and canvases.
Shocked when Deacon spoke to him in a low, intense voice, Neville froze in his tracks. “Stay here.”
They were almost to the building where he lived. It was several blocks away from the center of Silver and carefully designed to blend in with other structures in the town. It wasn’t a plain brick rectangle with ugly windows and miniscule, useless balconies.
Neville watched as Deacon took off at a run, powerful legs carrying him swiftly across a snow-covered lawn and then the parking lot. When he saw a movement closer to where he lived, he saw two men run off toward a car parked at the curb. Neville held his breath. Then he winced as Deacon caught the slower of the two men with a flying tackle.
Despite being told to stay where he was, Neville hurried forward, determined to offer assistance. He wasn’t surprised that the man on the ground was shouting. The other was now in the car and driving off. Neville was close enough to get the license plate number. Then he was running to help Deacon with the squirming man.
“Get my phone out of my right-hand coat pocket,” Deacon told him as he straddled the man’s legs and pulled his arms behind his back. His short, bomber-style jacket allowed Neville to have a nice view of his ass. The jeans Deacon wore were stretched over the curves of his rounded ass and powerful thighs. “I’ll talk to you later about disobeying me.” He reached under his coat, and when he withdrew it, there was a pair of handcuffs. Neville blinked as he got Deacon’s phone. “Speed dial 1. That will get you the sheriff’s office.” By the time Neville had finished, and there was an answer, Deacon had read the man his rights. He then held out his hand for the phone as he stood. “Come on, Ted. Let’s go pick up your drugs.” He then spoke briefly to the person Neville had spoken to, adding details before ending the call.
“Those aren’t my drugs! I’ve never seen them before!” the man cried as Deacon forced him to walk back the way they had come.
Neville remained behind this time. He watched as Deacon took photos with his phone. He didn’t pick them up, however, obviously leaving them for someone else to mark as evidence.
“I saw you drop them. Too bad you’re not as fast as your brother Steve. You wouldn’t have had to drop them, and you probably would have gotten away, too. You need to get a new partner and a new occupation.”
Neville snickered. Having been a user, he had no love for drug dealers. They were the scum of the earth, preying on people with addictions. If this guy was guilty of selling drugs, and he had no reason to believe otherwise at the moment, Neville hoped he went to prison for as long as possible.
The drug dealer’s mean eyes turned on Neville. “Do you think this is funny, crackhead?” Neville stiffened. “Yeah, I know who and what you are. We’ll see which one of us is laughing at the end of this.”
The creep shut up when Deacon shook him hard. “You’re also going to be charged with intimidating a witness.”
Because he had dealt with these assholes more than he would like to remember, Neville was determined not to worry too much about the threat. Doing so would give the guy power over him, and he wasn’t about to live in fear.
After two female sheriff deputies arrived—one he learned was named Cherry, and the other was her sister, Peaches—Deacon and Neville each filled out paperwork for the incident. He was glad to help keep Silver a nice place to live and the poison away from people.
Although Neville wasn’t overly worried about the man Deacon had arrested, Deacon seemed to believe he needed a bodyguard. “I want you to come home and stay with me for a while. We can go get some of your things.”
The man was getting bossy. No surprise there. Deacon was an in-charge kind of guy. Neville frowned up at Deacon, wishing they were closer to the same height. It was difficult to intimidate someone when they could see the top of your head. He wondered if his hair looked okay from that angle.
“I can take care of myself. He and his buddy don’t scare me.”
Much. Neville wasn’t the bravest person on the planet. His interaction with his neighbor proved that. But he didn’t want to give in to the fear, wanting to learn to manag
e it. The only reason why he’d been less scared of the losers before was that he’d been in such desperate need of the product they were selling. Now that he was clean, dealers didn’t have any reason at all to play nice with him, including letting him live. Okay, it might be a challenge not to be afraid of what they might want to do to him.
“Neville, I would feel better if I could keep an eye on you.”
Neville blinked. “I’m all grown up. Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s certainly not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe.”
Honestly, they didn’t know each other. For all he knew, Deacon was an overbearing asshole. And Deacon truly didn’t know the first thing about him, except that he was something of a space cadet with spiked blue hair and a former drug abuser.
So they stood there and stared hard at each other. Neville was rather proud of himself. He didn’t blink, he didn’t flinch, and he didn’t buckle under the pressure he was experiencing. There was a part of him that wanted to concede, but he stiffened his spine.
Too bad his lips hadn’t gotten the memo to be tough, because his next words escaped from between them.
“Okay.”
He was so weak. He really needed to get a new set of balls. Preferably, larger ones.
Chapter Three
Deacon admired Neville’s spunky attitude. He got the idea that the man didn’t show it often. Neville’s small chin was lifted defiantly, and there was a gleam in his eyes that spelled trouble for Deacon, if he continued to press the matter of where Neville would stay for the next few days. Hopefully during that time, the second loser could be located and arrested. Deacon knew it was Steve Bellum. He and his brother were known to the sheriff’s office. Unfortunately, the lawyer for the brothers was good at his job and had gotten the charges reduced so they spent little to no time in jail. Deacon and his colleagues in the sheriff’s office were dedicated to getting the losers off the street for a very long time. The brothers, and those like them, were polluting some of the citizens of Silver with their poison.
“Okay.”
Surprise lifted Deacon’s brows a good inch when Neville unexpectedly agreed to stay with Deacon. “Okay?”
“Yes, I’ll stay with you, but no funny business. I know you want to see my goodies.”
He tried and failed to maintain a sober expression. The words were amusing, and he laughed. But behind them Deacon knew Neville was hiding his nervousness. He wouldn’t be nervous much longer, he thought, as he watched the color rush into Neville’s face. What the man had to worry about was spontaneous combustion.
“As much as I would like to see your goodies, I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to show them to me. Come on, let’s go in and pack a bag for a few days.”
With his hand on Neville’s upper back, Deacon steered him toward the building. The curious group that had gathered outside had since disappeared. He hoped that those people would now have second thoughts about having anything to do with drug dealers. Although not all of the residents had problems with drugs, many of them did. It was a long, difficult fight, and they needed to have the edge, which was not to have worthless losers shoving temptation in their faces.
It didn’t take long for Neville to pack several changes of clothing in a large leather duffel bag. “I hope I don’t have to be gone long,” he said as he left the bedroom and walked into the living room. The apartment was all of about four hundred square feet, consisting of a bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen, and stacked washer and dryer tucked into a corner at the end of the hall. A grimace twisted his lips. “Hell, if I took my guitar, I would have almost everything I own with me.”
That was sad.
“Hey, bring it along. I play the guitar, too, and the harmonica. Maybe we can play together.” Neville looked at him and then snickered. Deacon chuckled. “Someone has a dirty mind.”
“I’ll never admit to a thing.” He leaned down and wrapped his fingers around the duffel’s grips. “I guess I’ll take the guitar. It might be fun to play a few songs, if we get snowed in.”
“Where is it? I’ll get it for you.”
“In the bedroom.”
Deacon’s heart ached for Neville as he walked into the bedroom. The twin-size bed was neatly made. There was a dresser with a mirror above it and a table beside the bed. Other than that, there was nothing to make it a personal place. The pictures on the wall were generic, without personality of any kind. Deacon guessed they probably made Neville twitchy to look at them.
After grabbing the guitar case, Deacon turned off the light and returned to the living room where Neville was waiting for him. “I’m surprised you haven’t replaced the paintings with something of your own,” he commented.
Neville actually shuddered. “Yeah, well, I would, but I’ve only just begun painting again. I’m saving money to rent the loft apartment above the shared studio where I work.”
“That sounds like it would be a nice setup. When do you think it will happen?”
Shoulders lifted under the heavy parka. Deacon couldn’t share with Neville how adorable he was in the bright yellow parka. He would probably take out one of Deacon’s knees.
“Marley, the owner of the gallery, said I can have it at the end of next month. That’s when the current tenant will be moving out. He’s going to Bali or something. Which I think really sucks. Everybody goes to exotic places but me.” The lower lip came out in a pout. The man really didn’t know how much he appealed to Deacon. “Anyway, I have until then to get the money. She said I didn’t have to pay the security deposit, but that still leaves me to come up with the rest. I think I’ll have it by then.”
Deacon knew Neville was attending the local community college. He also had a part-time job. Knowing that the rent on the square could be incredibly high, he wondered how much Marley had dropped the amount for Neville. The guy was likeable, and Marley had a huge heart for people. Under normal circumstances, he doubted Neville could have afforded the loft apartment with the earnings from a part-time job. Not from the stationary store, anyway. However, there was no way Deacon would snoop to find out how Neville would be able to afford the apartment.
But he would ask. “How can you afford it?”
A frown was what Deacon received for his lack of diplomacy. “I’ll manage. Don’t worry. In fact, I plan to move my studio to the new apartment. That will help my budget. Now, I’m roasting in this coat. Can we get going?”
They left the apartment. The electronic lock beeped as the door shut behind them. Deacon followed, knowing deep down that Neville wouldn’t be returning to live there. The moment he had met Neville, Deacon had known that they were meant to be together. He had taken care of him when he’d been sick. He would keep him safe while they searched for the drug dealer. And while that was happening, Deacon would demonstrate how perfect they were for each other. Neville was exactly the kind of man he had been dreaming of since realizing he was ready for a life partner.
But would Neville figure that out? The guy had so much going on in his life at the moment, Deacon was afraid that he wouldn’t have time to fall in love and create a future with someone else.
Deacon’s small house was across town, which was ten blocks from Neville’s apartment building. He parked in the short driveway in front of the garage. The place wasn’t his. He rented it from his cousin, Harry. They were at odds at the moment. The house needed repairs, and Harry was slow about getting around to taking care of them. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the means to repair them, or even hire someone to do it. The fact was, Harry was a tightwad.
“It’s a cute house,” Neville commented as they got out Deacon’s truck. “It could use some paint.”
“Yeah, it could use paint and a lot of other stuff. It belongs to my cousin. He’s not very good at keeping up his investments. If he lets it go much longer, the town will be after him to make improvements. If he doesn’t, he’ll get a huge fine.”
That was why Deacon wondered why Harry would risk letting the
house go to the point where the town would get involved. One of the key things in Silver was to not allow the blight to take over. If a homeowner couldn’t afford to make improvements, they were helped if they asked for it. If they didn’t, there were consequences that could get quite costly. All Deacon knew was that if Harry didn’t make the needed repairs soon, Deacon would find another place to live.
When they got inside, Neville took off his coat and boots before he began prowling the place like a small, curious cat. Deacon picked up the duffel and guitar and followed, grinning as he watched Neville peer into drawers and cupboards. He didn’t make any attempt to stop him. It was entertaining, if nothing else.
While Neville investigated the kitchen, Deacon carried the man’s clothes to the bedroom at the end of the short hall. The house was small and poorly designed. It had always made Deacon feel closed in, which was probably why he didn’t spend much time in it. The outside had some charm, but there wasn’t any on the inside. Neville wandered into the bedroom as Deacon turned around.
“Where’s the window?”
“Over there.”
“But it’s so dark.”
He walked to the window and pushed back the curtains. Deacon knew what he would see. There was a huge tree beside the house. Even in the winter the tree managed to cast a lot of shade, despite not having any leaves.
“I don’t use this room much. The place came furnished.”
Neville dropped the curtain and turned away from the window. “Don’t worry. You’re doing a nice thing, letting me stay here with you. But you can’t be everywhere I am. I have to go to school and work, and so do you.”
“I have that all worked out. Some friends will be helping.”
