Snow Balls

by Tara Lain

  “My pleasure.” Or at least his cock’s pleasure.

  Detective Ryan Star walked away toward a group of uniformed officers gathered at the booth across from JJ’s. The cop’s jeans clung to lean, muscled thighs, and the tweed sports jacket had an obligatory feel, like maybe it wasn’t something he wore in his free time. It wasn’t something he should wear at all. That man needed a dresser. JJ sighed. Fat effing chance it would be him.

  JJ went back to the display, trying hard to look manly while positioning dolls on a snow scene. He glanced up and caught his breath. Star was staring at him. JJ wanted to fan himself so bad. Man up.

  He stared down at the doll in his hands. Why the hell was he trying to impress this guy? The detective was scary and his job was violent, two things JJ hated. But there was that second while he was questioning JJ when Star had looked embarrassed that he’d forgotten to show his credentials. Was that a hint of the vulnerable man underneath? Naw, he probably just felt uncomfortable around a creampuff like JJ.

  What had he been thinking?

  He’d been known to watch a football game? Not in this life.

  RYAN PULLED off his sports coat as he threaded his way through the cubicles to his desk.

  “Star.” The captain’s voice came from her office.

  He stuck his head around the door. “Hi, Cap.”

  She leaned forward across her big metal desk. “How goes Santa Claus?”

  He grinned. Captain Sarah Albright was a clear message that the universe didn’t hate him all the time. “He and his elf and eight tiny whatevers got away with quite a haul. No cash, but a lot of jewelry that will be easy to fence.”

  “Any leads?”

  That tall hunk of a guy. “One of the exhibitors got a pretty good look at them and was able to recall quite a few details. Of course, the perps had on costumes, so he could only remember so much.”

  She ran a hand through her fair hair. “You have him coming in to look at pictures?”

  Well, shit. How derelict had he been in his duty? “I haven’t set a time, but I’m sure he’ll come in. I just need to, uh, talk to him again.”

  She cocked her head. “Good. So what do you have planned for the holidays? Some family to visit?”

  Hell no! “No. Now that I’ve found sunshine in December, I’m not giving it up that easily.”

  A frown line appeared between her eyebrows and was gone. “I’d love to have you come to Christmas dinner with us, Ryan.”

  Well, damn. “That’s really nice, but I have some plans. I appreciate it, though.” Plans with a cold case of beer and some sports on the TV. Maybe find a lonely ass in Santa Ana to take the edge off.

  “You’re really welcome to join us. At least come to my New Year’s party. A lot of the guys will be there.”

  “Thanks.” The captain meant well, but mixing at the holidays wasn’t his thing. Of course, he had equal problems mixing on most Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and every other day of the week.

  She looked down at her reports. “Keep me in the loop. We don’t want the Laguna tourist attractions getting ripped off. That’s crap on the economy.”

  “You bet.”

  She glanced up again. “And let me know if your witness recognizes anyone.”

  “I will.” That meant he better get on calling Mr. JJ LaRousse right away.

  “Star?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. Don’t see that a lot.”

  “Uh, must be thinking about you and your family at Christmas.”

  She didn’t say anything for a second. “Must be.”

  He nodded and turned, grabbing his notepad from his pocket as he walked down the hall to his cubicle. Wonder if the guy is free to come over now? He reached for the phone.

  “DAVID. DAVID. Oh my God, oh my God.” JJ grabbed the smoothly muscled arm of his friend and boss.

  David trapped JJ’s other waving hand between his. “Okay, calm down. What is it? Did one of the exhibitors wear pink and orange together again?” David grinned. Nobody knew better how overreactive JJ was. Thank God, David loved him anyway.

  Need air. JJ took a deep breath. “The cop. The one I told you about. Oh my god of CSI, he wants me to come to the police station and look at mug shots.” JJ retrieved his hand. He needed it for fanning.

  David gazed up at JJ. It wasn’t far up, since the handsome gallery owner stood a slim six foot one to JJ’s more muscular six foot four. “Okay. That’s not hard. The police station is only a ten-minute walk away, and I’m here to finish setting up the booth. Perfect timing.”

  “Oh God.” JJ collapsed onto a packing crate.

  “That’s the hand-blown glass you’re sitting on, darling.”

  JJ jumped up. “He’s just so….”

  “Intimidating, overbearing?”

  “Delicious.”

  David laughed. “That’s a different kind of problem.”

  “I’ve got to go to the men’s room.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  JJ took off at a run to the restrooms at the center of the festival grounds. Inside, he stuck his carefully spiked head under the faucet, pulled out his comb, and flattened the do. Of course, the pink streaks still stood out like candy canes in his light brown hair. Nothing to be done about it now. He washed his hands and headed back to the booth.

  David glanced up from the last packing box. “What happened to your hair?”

  “Rod says the cop likes guy’s guys.” JJ tucked in his T-shirt with the What Would Anna Do? logo, his homage to Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue. He pulled on his windbreaker, zipped it up, and did a twirl. “With a cap, can I pass as Daniel Craig?”

  David put his hands on his hips. “First off, how does Rod know who or what the cop likes? And even if he’s right, it’s never a good idea to try to be something you’re not. You know that. Pretend at the beginning and you have to keep living your lies. That’s a drag.”

  JJ stuck out his lip. “It’s not exactly a lie. Hell, look at me.”

  David frowned. “JJ, you’re gorgeous. You’re a catch just the way you are.”

  “But I’m such a”—he waved his hands—“fruit!”

  “Strawberries and cream. Any man would be lucky to get you.”

  JJ sighed. “Thanks. But I need to be more, you know, masculine.”

  David smoothed the crease between his own brows with two fingers. “Who said that?”

  JJ frowned. “You mean besides my father?”

  “Ancient history. You have a life now with people who love you as you are. Don’t go looking for appreciation from those without the discrimination to give it.”

  JJ blew out his breath. “I’m so lucky to have you guys.” He walked to the edge of the booth. “I better get over there. I won’t be long.”

  “It’s okay. Go home after, put on your opening-night clothes, and meet me back here before the crowds arrive.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  JJ walked briskly down the sawdust-covered pathway to the Winter Fantasy front gate. Perfect—still there. “Hi, Ralphie.” He stopped. David gave good advice. Pretend now and he’d be stuck pretending. Sigh. But Ryan Star might just be worth it. He grinned at the young man. “Could I borrow your cap again?”

  RYAN STARED through the window into the meeting room where he’d put JJ LaRousse with a computer and a ton of photos. JJ gazed at the screen intently. Good. He was taking his responsibilities seriously. But considering how disguised the thieves were, identification seemed unlikely.

  Shit, JJ was gorgeous. Six foot four, probably, lean muscle, and a face that was almost pretty except for the strong cheekbones and cleft chin. Sure would like to see his hair. Ryan shifted and glanced down the hall. Good. Nobody to see the tent he had going on in his pants. He inhaled hard. Down, boy.

  When he looked back through the glass door, JJ waved at him. He opened it and walked in holding his clipboard in front of his crotch. “Find anything?�
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  “Not sure, but there’s something about this guy. The weird eyes, and remember I said red hair?”

  “Yeah.” Ryan leaned in and looked over JJ’s shoulder. Whoa. He backed off a step. The kid smelled too damned good. The picture on the screen showed a weaselly face with scraggly red hair and, just as JJ had said, weird light eyes that seemed kind of crazed. Ryan checked the stats. Sure enough. Five foot four and a sheet loaded with petty theft and a few more ambitious projects. “Looks right. This might be your guy. Good job, man.” He gripped JJ’s arm and scalded his hand on hot, tight flesh under the nylon jacket. JJ’s eyes widened, and Ryan pulled his hand away. Fuck, he wasn’t a toucher. Why did he do it? “Uh, like I said. Good job.”

  JJ smiled so broadly it nearly cracked those lean cheeks. “I’m so glad… uh, stoked that I could help out.” JJ put up a fist and Ryan bumped it. Maybe JJ wasn’t gay, but hell, he had a vibe.

  JJ stood, which made Ryan look up at him. Wonder how old he is. He looked young. “I forgot to ask your age—for the records.” Ryan held out the clipboard, real official-like.

  Dimples popped out in JJ’s cheeks. So damned cute. “I’m twenty-three.”

  Ryan wrote it down. Good.

  “Guess I’m old enough to be a witness.”

  “Yeah.” And a whole lot else.

  JJ nodded toward the door but didn’t move. “I better go and get ready for the opening.”

  “Right. Your booth and all.”

  “Well, it’s my boss’s booth, but I’ll be working at it quite a bit.”

  “That’s the Underwood Gallery. Where you work, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, thanks again for the help.”

  JJ shrugged. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  Ryan nodded. Why the hell was he rooted to the ground? “We still have some thieves to catch.”

  “Right. Well, okay. Glad I could help.” Finally JJ took some steps toward the door, which brought his tight ass in equally tight jeans into full view. Holy crap, he was hot. JJ stopped and looked over his shoulder. The move was unconsciously flirtatious. Ryan shoved the clipboard down again in front of his spronged dick. “Bye.”

  Ryan turned up his mouth corners. “Bye, Trojan.”

  The wide, dark eyes glanced up toward his cap brim. The dimples flashed, and then he was gone, striding out the open door of the meeting room and down the hall toward the entrance.

  Breathe, Star, just breathe.

  STAR WALKED into a bar. Sounded like a joke, and it sure as hell was. Who went to a gay bar at 7:00 p.m.? He looked around the place. Only half empty. Not too bad. He nodded at the tattooed, bearded bartender and slid onto a stool. He and the big bartender weren’t buds, but he remembered the guy from the previous couple of visits to the Emerald. Emerald. That was a joke. This place could barely make it to rhinestone. But Ryan liked it because it wasn’t exclusively gay. If somebody he knew came in, he had plausible deniability. Not that he was completely in the closet. But the gap in the door was pretty narrow. The captain knew and a few acquaintances. But nobody else at the PD. That was one lesson he’d learned the hard way.

  The bartender pushed a mug of beer in front of Ryan without asking. Ryan nodded, took a sip, and turned to survey the slightly grimy interior. Any candidates? One hooker twink made up with blush and eyeliner smiled at him. Ryan looked away. Not his type. He should have waited until later to come here, but if he’d hung around Laguna, he sure as hell would have shown up at the Winter Fantasy again. He’d come up with fifty reasons so far why he should go collect more clues, and every one of them involved JJ LaRousse. Shit. He did not do this. No fucking where he lived. But speaking of his type… that LaRousse hunk was it down to the ground. Big and butch but still pretty. Man, that kid had it.

  Ryan turned back to the bar and sipped from his beer. He still didn’t know for sure if JJ was gay. How could he find out? No asking around. The closet door wasn’t that open. And why did he care?

  “This seat taken?”

  Ryan looked up at a biker-type guy complete with leather vest, boots, and chains. A couple of days’ growth on a pugnacious chin didn’t detract from a certain animal magnetism. Ryan glanced around. Eight or ten other empty seats at the bar, some with no one on either side. “I guess it’s taken now.”

  The guy grinned and sat on the stool. He was only about five foot eight. Smaller than Ryan by a few inches, but really buff. Major biceps popped out below the tight sleeves of the white T-shirt he wore under his vest. Not bad. The biker stuck out a hand. “Smith. John Smith.”

  Ryan took the hand. Hard calluses, so not a wannabe biker. Good. “Jones. Tom Jones.”

  They both laughed.

  Ryan leaned in. “Can I buy you a drink, John?”

  Chapter

  Two

  JJ RUSHED through the gates of Winter Fantasy with his two strands of Christmas lights. People were lining up, and Ralphie sat at the ready on his stool, prepared to take tickets. JJ pulled the cap from his jacket pocket. “Thanks so much, Ralphie.”

  “No problem. You sure you don’t need it anymore?”

  JJ waved toward his now solid brown hair that curled around his ears. “Nope, took care of the problem.”

  “Hey, I kind of liked the pink. But it looks good.”

  “Thanks, Ralphie. Gotta get to work before the hordes descend.”

  He walked into the main square of the winter art and craft fair, held on the same grounds as the famous summer Sawdust Festival. Wow. Fairyland. The central exhibit booths had been removed from the lawn area and a wonderful Santa’s Village was set up, complete with fake snow and evergreen trees and a Santa’s house. Santa Claus stood at the side of the square drinking a soda, clearly getting ready for a line of anxious kids and their parents.

  The Santa made him think of the robbery, and that made him think of Star. Those intense blue eyes, the broken nose, the thighs thick enough to send him into fits of gay-boy fantasyland. JJ sighed. Thinking of Star would not get his work done, and besides, it was stupid.

  He took off at a trot down the path to the booth.

  David and Rod were already holding court for other exhibitors, chatting and drinking some of the champagne they’d be serving for the grand opening. Jeez, they looked great. David wore a brilliant floral kimono over jeans so tight they might have been sold in the paint aisle. The guy was the kind of handsome that made you gasp. Rodney sported his usual rock group T-shirt under a bright chartreuse leather jacket. His holiday-colored bangs flopped over his face. Nobody had to ask these men their sexual orientation. They made Out and Proud into a national anthem.

  David looked up as JJ stepped into the booth. “Hi, dear. I see they didn’t lock you up.”

  JJ grinned and unrolled the twinkle lights he wanted to string in his village display.

  Rod peeked around JJ’s shoulder and stared at his hair. “But they did make you conform to prison dress code, I see. What’s with the hair, dear?”

  JJ shrugged. “I just decided against the pink.”

  Rod flipped his red-and-green bangs out of his eyes. “Hmmm. At least you look smashing.”

  JJ smiled. “Thanks.” He’d worked hard at selecting his perfectly worn jeans and the crisp white shirt with a slightly outsized collar that he wore turned up in back. Over it all, he’d layered a canary-yellow denim jacket.

  David touched the lapel of his jacket. “This is to die for, love. Wherever do you find these great clothes?”

  “I have to have some fashion secrets. My budget is so microscopic, I need to find hidden sources.” He didn’t reveal it had been right in the Laguna Thrift Shop. A jacket like this in a forty-two was unheard of, but there it was.

  He strung the last of the lights, plugged them in, and stepped back. Perfect. He’d managed to focus the little twinklers around each piece of doll art. The effect was terrific. But he’d also clustered some of the dolls on the counter right at hand and eye level so people could buy spontaneously.
r />   “Jayyyy Jayyyyy.”

  JJ looked toward the call and sighed. The McMillan twins were cute as hell, but he had mixed feelings about the little twinks. “Hi, Bobby. Hi, Robin.” Of course, those feelings only came after he’d had a double blowjob that sent him to another solar system.

  He walked over to where the two guys stood on the edge of the booth. Bobby wore pink from his tennies to his silk shirt. It looked good, if totally flamboyant, with his bleached white hair. Robin affected black. His big blue eyes peered out of a circle of dark guyliner and from behind a curtain of dyed midnight hair. The twins were crazy, but artists of some quality. David had even hung two of their pieces in the gallery.

  Bobby twisted like a kid prying a candy out of his nanny’s tight fists as JJ walked up. “Hi, sweetheart. Want to come play with us later?”

  JJ glanced at Robin, who stood twirling his hair and gazing into space. Bobby was JJ’s biggest fan, but in truth, JJ was more attracted to Robin’s dark, brooding style. With Bobby, JJ mostly wanted to swap hair-styling tips. Their friendship was one of convenience, although Bobby wanted more. Bobby seemed to sense that JJ preferred Robin, so he always brought him along as bait. Sad for Bobby. Good for JJ. “Sure. Want to meet at my place? I get off at about ten thirty, after I close.”

  “Us too. We’ll meet you.” Bobby batted his lashes. Robin gave JJ a sideways glance full of hot promise. Shoot. JJ said he was tired of twinks, but he liked these guys a lot. It was tough to pass up double trouble.

  The “boys,” as everyone called them, waved at Rodney and David with plenty of air kissing and then walked down the aisle with their hips swaying. Guests stared, but flamboyant gay men were as much a part of the Laguna ambiance as the winter festival. The tourists ate it up.

  JJ tossed the packaging from the lights into the recycle bin and walked over to where David and Rod sipped champagne with a patron. Rod gestured with his elbow. “Grab some champagne.”