by Tara Lain
“That would be cool. I’d like Mick to have the place any way he wants it.” He smiled softly.
Mick gazed back. “I love it just the way it is. Can’t imagine it being better.”
JJ smiled. “Let me think on it.”
Jerry drank from his glass. “You sure you want to do this whole pretending thing? If the guy doesn’t like who you are, fuck him. Hey, I learned that with Hunter, man. I tried to get him by acting like a big intellectual. Hell, that worked for about a minute.”
JJ shrugged. Rodney and Hunter had ended up together despite Rod’s best efforts to screw it up by fixing up Hunter with Jerry. Of course, that was pre-Mick, or rather, when Mick had been acting like an SOB. Long story. JJ sighed. “I kind of like this guy. It won’t hurt anything, will it?” Jeez. He wasn’t sure he believed that himself.
Jerry glanced at Mick, then looked at JJ sideways. “I guess not. Except you could end up watching football for the rest of your life.”
He had a point. That did sound pretty crappy.
Jerry picked up the pencil and starting making x’s and lines on his football diagram. “Okay, what does offside mean?”
JJ took a deep breath and recited, “It’s a foul where the player is on the wrong side of the line of scrimmage when the ball is snapped.”
White teeth shone in the tanned face. “Hey, good job.”
JJ ran his hands through his too-long brown hair. “But what the hell is a scrimmage again?”
Chapter
Three
JJ FOLLOWED Ryan down the stadium steps, admiring the play of muscle in the cop’s tight butt. This was it. Showtime. Talk about mixed feelings.
Ryan stopped at a row close to the front of the tier and pointed in. “These are our seats. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go back and get us something from the bar.”
JJ’s deep voice had almost become second nature. “Sure. Great.”
JJ slid into the row. Wow. You didn’t have to be a football fan to know these were great seats. Fortunately, Jerry had told him about the club level of the stadium, and this was it, complete with bar.
Everything up until now, JJ had handled. Or he hoped he had. The ride south had been amazingly relaxed. JJ got Ryan talking about crazy cop experiences, and the time had flown. When they got to the stadium, food had been the top agenda item. They’d considered the famous barbecued ribs, but the line was too long, so they settled for some fish tacos. The tacos were delicious, and the conversation had ranged to their favorite restaurants in Laguna, favorite movies, and TV shows. JJ had suppressed the desire to gush about Project Runway and agreed that Ice Road Truckers might be worth a try. Right.
“I got us a couple beers.”
JJ looked up as Ryan slid in beside him and handed him a beer.
“Thanks. These are great seats. They must, uh, set you back a bundle.”
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t have much to spend my money on. No family. Don’t gamble. Don’t care that much about cars.”
Thank God. If JJ’d had to learn about carburetors, he might have given up. He sipped the cold brew. The day was California winter warm, and the beer tasted good, although he wasn’t much of a beer drinker. He pulled his new Chargers cap farther over his eyes and adjusted his sunglasses. “No hobbies? You look like someone who might be athletic.” And JJ wanted to be an athletic supporter.
Ryan shrugged. “I go to the gym and box to keep in shape. My only real sport is skiing. Cross-country.”
“No kidding, uh, shit.”
“Ever done any?”
“No.” And he didn’t plan to if he had a choice. Cold, wet, and slippery. What an inhumane combination.
“Big, athletic guy like you? It would be a snap.”
The announcer’s voice sounded, and they both faced front. The teams were going to come in now, JJ was pretty sure.
The guys in blue-and-white started to run onto the field. Oh my, the way those narrow butts looked in the tight pants was positively appetizing.
Ryan leaned over. “Who do you like? Any favorites?”
Okay, JJ was prepared. He took a deep breath. “Rivers, of course. He’s a great leader. Bound to make it to 5000 yards this year.” Oh sweet god of boys who like to sew, what did any of that mean?
Ryan nodded. “Amen. What about Gates?”
JJ sipped his beer to sort through his memory banks. “Best tight end to ever play the game.” He held his breath.
“You said it.”
Whew. JJ gazed at the field. “Of course, quite a few of those guys look like tight ends.”
Ryan looked at him with his mouth open and then started to laugh. “Yeah. You got that right.”
The coin toss. The kickoff. Wow. That ball went all the way to the end, and a guy caught it. Cool. They all went farther down the field. Yep, just like Jerry had said. The guy in the center—the quarterback, probably—threw the ball. It soared through the air and some lean player caught it and started running like a son of a bitch. Holy shit. Two guys slammed him to the ground. That looked painful. JJ resisted the urge to close his eyes. He’d seen football on TV, of course. His dad had loved it. But JJ’d never paid much attention. In these good seats, the game was in his face.
Somebody came out and measured the field. A lot of people, including Ryan, moaned. He leaned over to JJ. “That was close.”
“Yeah.” Close to getting killed?
The players got back into lines. JJ could hear the cute one, the quarterback, calling out numbers. Some big guy in the front line moved. A yellow cloth flew through the air.
JJ whispered, “Offside.”
Ryan glanced over at him and smiled.
The announcer’s voice rang out, “Flag on the play. Offside.”
Holy shit. He’d gotten it right. Thank God for Jerry.
The whole crew of men moved and then got back in their line. A bunch of stuff happened at once, and JJ couldn’t follow it until everyone on their side leaped up so he did too. The announcer called “first down,” but it sure looked like about a hundred guys went down getting there.
Ryan leaned over. “I didn’t think they could make that one, after the foul.”
“Me too.” What? Good Lord, pretending was hard.
The whole line reassembled. The cutie stepped back and threw the ball a long way. The lean, fast guy ran out and caught the thing, which was clearly a miracle. He headed down the field like a jackrabbit with a pack of bulldogs on his heels. Shit, one bulldog came out of nowhere and tackled the rabbit, and then five other guys piled on. Whistles and yells sounded from their side and cheers from the other.
Then a groan and the crowd got quieter as the bulldogs pulled off and left the rabbit lying there in a heap. He didn’t get up. Oh no. JJ grabbed Ryan’s arm. “He’s hurt.”
“Yeah. Looks like it. Shame. He’s a great wide receiver.”
Receiver, hell. He was a gorgeous, fast-as-lightning black kid who had just got beaten to a pulp in a stupid game. JJ wanted to jump up and scream.
A stretcher was carried onto the field. Some guy put a collar around the player’s neck, and then they picked him up and put him on the stretcher. Hell, they didn’t look nearly careful enough. The crowd murmured and shifted. JJ looked around. They were uncomfortable with his being hurt, but it didn’t seem like they felt sorry for the player, exactly. It was more like they wanted to get on with cheering, and this moment of required sympathy was an imposition.
He looked at Ryan and found those blue eyes gazing at him. JJ’s hand was still locked on Ryan’s forearm. He loosened his fingers. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“He just looks hurt bad.”
“Yeah. But they take a lot of precautions, so he may be up and ready to walk and run by the end of the day.”
“And he may not.”
“Yeah.”
The game continued, but JJ couldn’t stop thinking about the player who got hurt. He jumped up when Ryan did and cheered in the right places, but the game
had lost its luster. The fun all came from Ryan being next to him. Having the man so close sent JJ’s dick into a constant state of anticipation. Lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight. Just like the cheerleaders at halftime—who could have used a costume redesign, by the way.
Ryan got them another beer. JJ so wished he could ask for a nice Chablis. But when Ryan sat back down, he got closer and his thigh pressed against JJ’s. Would he move? JJ held his breath for a count of thirty, but Ryan just sipped his beer and let the hard muscle of his thigh send JJ into cock orbit. JJ took the scarf off his neck and draped it across his lap.
Ryan glanced down and got this little smile on his face. The next time the team made a first down, neither of them jumped up. Just cheered in their seats. The score was pretty heavy in the Chargers’ favor, so it wasn’t exactly exciting. But Ryan Star’s thigh was like a fifty-yard touchdown.
Somewhere around the second half of the fourth quarter, Star dropped a hand onto his own thigh. The next big play, that hand slid until it rested against JJ’s leg. Ryan’s fingers moved. Might have been an accident. Might not.
Finally the Chargers scored a crazy difficult touchdown that won the game, and Ryan and JJ had no excuse for not jumping up. Damn. JJ might never forgive the game of football. Of course, he already had some serious beefs with it, although the announcer had told the crowd that the hurt player was okay and resting in the locker room.
Ryan let JJ pass in front of him to get out to the aisle. JJ felt a warm hand on his back. Tingle city. Ryan murmured, “Have time for some early dinner?”
Did he? “I guess so. I need to get to the Winter Fantasy to close things up. David doesn’t know the procedure.” He grinned. “But a guy’s got to eat.”
Ryan nodded. “My philosophy exactly.”
They got in the car and fought through the crawling lines of exiting fans, then drove up the freeway to the town of Del Mar. JJ glanced sideways toward Ryan. The afternoon sun really showed the slight pitting in Ryan’s skin. It also showed the strong line of his nose and jaw. The guy was really great-looking, if not at all pretty. And the body. Oh god of Michelangelo. Ryan’s forearms were ripped with tendons that stood out in hard muscle covered with a soft smattering of dark hair. And there were those thighs again, straining the denim in his jeans as he manipulated the pedals on the conservative gray Chevrolet. Clearly a professional car.
Hard not to dream about leaning over and mauling Ryan in some major way, preferably involving lips and dicks. But was this guy for JJ? Hell, Ryan loved football, and one game was enough to convince JJ that pigskin was only for wall coverings. Maybe David and Rod were right. Pretending might not have been the way to go.
Ryan turned off the coast road near the ocean into a parking garage. “You like Italian?”
“Love it.”
Ryan maneuvered into a space, turned off the car, and smiled at JJ. “I figured a growing boy like you couldn’t live without a little parmigiana. Come on.”
The restaurant turned out to be on the second floor of an open shopping mall. The place smelled deliciously of spices and had a sun porch with a view to die for. It was so early they got a table by the window with no waiting. Ryan asked for veal parmigiana, and JJ ordered salmon prepared with an Italian sauce and a glass of white wine. When he asked for the wine, Ryan kind of looked at JJ sideways, but shoot, he didn’t want to have another beer he didn’t like when he was paying. Good thing he had a little money on his credit card.
When the waiter left, JJ asked, “How’s the investigation going? Has Santa Claus come to town?” He grinned.
Ryan shook his head but still smiled. “We actually found the last-known address for that weasel you identified from the photos. He’s not there anymore, but the place is in Laguna, so we might have the right guy. You helped a lot.”
“Glad I could.”
The waiter brought their drinks. Ryan held up his beer toward JJ. “To believing in Santa Claus.”
That was pretty cute. JJ clinked his glass with Ryan’s and took a sip. “You’re not from California, are you?”
Ryan adopted a heavy Nu Yawk accent. “What gave you de foist clue?”
JJ laughed. “The accent a little, but someone told me you were from the big city. Why did you leave?”
Ryan pointed out the window at a big flock of pelicans flying low over the water on the other side of the road. “What’s not to like?”
“Being a policeman in little Laguna Beach must be a big change from New York City.”
A crease appeared between Ryan’s eyebrows. “Yeah, and all for the better.” He stared at his glass, then kind of shook himself and smiled. “What about you? How long have you lived in California?”
“I was born here.”
“In Laguna?”
“No. In Brea. But I moved to Laguna as soon as I could.”
“Why?”
He didn’t want to go there, so he grinned. “What’s not to like?”
They looked at each other. That topic seemed depleted. JJ moved on. “Did you study criminology or law enforcement in school?”
The waiter brought food, and they paused for napkins and first bites. Oh, really good. “This is great. I’ve never been here before.”
“Glad you like it.”
“So in school….”
Ryan shrugged. “I actually have a degree in psychology. Weird, huh? But I went straight to the academy as soon as I graduated.”
“Why? What sparked your interest?”
“My dad was on the force. He really wanted me to do the same. He didn’t live to see me graduate from the academy, but he was proud I went.”
“I’m sorry. He wasn’t killed in the line of duty, was he?”
“No. Heart attack. Cops have crappy lifestyles as a general rule. It didn’t do him any favors.”
“So, your mom?”
Ryan looked at his food and shook his head. “She died of cancer when I was ten.”
“Jesus, that’s tough.”
Ryan smiled, but it didn’t get to his eyes. “I’m a tough guy.”
JJ put a hand on Ryan’s arm. “Still….”
“Thanks.”
JJ retrieved his hand and took another bite. Clearly Ryan Star didn’t like sympathy.
Ryan swallowed a mouthful of beer. “So, your parents alive?”
Jesus, JJ had been with twinks only interested in sex for so long, he’d forgotten what conversation with a guy was like. It wasn’t necessarily fun. “Yeah. They’re alive. So tell me about skiing.”
That made the tough guy smile. He started talking about the cleanness of the experience, the smell of the trees, and silence in the backwoods. Ryan was positively eloquent, and JJ loved listening. Ryan almost made it sound fun.
They finished their meal. Couldn’t do dessert because JJ had to get back, and they were pushing their time limit.
The waiter brought their check, and JJ reached for his wallet. Ryan put his hand on JJ’s arm. “No way. This is mine.”
JJ shook his head. “But you bought the tickets.”
“I asked you. My treat.”
“Thanks so much.” JJ wanted to flutter his hands like a helicopter. It seemed like Ryan did think of this as a date. Oh God, he might faint.
Chapter Four
WHEN THE waiter brought back the check, Ryan signed and then guided JJ to the door.
JJ smiled over his shoulder. “I’m sorry to cut this short. I’ve had so much fun.” True, if he didn’t count the football part.
“I’m glad you did.” Ryan’s arm brushed against JJ’s sweater, and the touch felt like little sparks flew.
They walked into the dimly lit parking garage and got in the car. Ryan just sat there staring at the steering wheel. Finally he looked up at JJ. “Something I keep meaning to ask you.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you gay?”
Holy crap. Ryan Star couldn’t tell he was gay! “Sure. Why?”
Ryan got th
is soft smile. “Because if you weren’t, I’d probably think twice about doing this.” He reached out a hand and wrapped it around JJ’s neck. As he pulled JJ closer, Ryan moved forward. Oh sweet god of meeting in the middle.
Their lips touched softly, then heated. Ryan slid his hand up JJ’s neck and tangled his fingers in JJ’s too-long hair as he angled his mouth and settled down to business. Serious business. Ryan’s mouth got all devoury and ate at JJ’s lips. He pressed that hot tongue in deep and deeper. JJ’s half boner sprang to full attention, and he brought both hands up to cup Ryan’s face. Ryan pulled JJ as close as the console allowed, then sat back, gave a little half moan, half growl, and dove back into the kiss.
Oh Jesus, any thoughts JJ had about backing out of this impending relationship, or whatever it was, burned up in his balls. This guy was one hell of a kisser. Imagine what else he could do. And that something else sounded way too good right now. He’d passed up the twins for a bit of law enforcement, and his cock wanted to testify. But shit and damnation, he had to get to the booth. JJ ripped his mouth away and sat back. “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how much. But I have to get back to the Winter Fantasy.”
Ryan was breathing hard. “Yeah. Sorry, I got a little carried away.”
“Anytime.”
Ryan glanced up and JJ grinned.
Like a scene from a car-chase movie, Ryan backed out of their parking space and screeched around the ramps to the exit. He fished for money to pay the guy in the booth, pulled out on the highway, and made it onto the freeway heading north in record time. JJ glanced over. Ryan’s jaw was set and his cock was spronged. Damn.
They were traveling at a good speed when Ryan pulled over to the second to the right lane. Odd for the speed demon. Ryan looked at JJ and then brought his hand across the console, found JJ’s zipper and, in one pull, had the whole thing down. Holy…. Before JJ could catch his breath, Ryan had dug into his fly, loosed the beast from its underwear cage, and was pumping JJ’s cock like he was giving it CPR. And he was, because that hand could save a man’s life.
