Bad Boys Need Love Too: Max

by Christa Tomlinson

  “Hey, Dr. Bishop. Just allergies, but Sabrina thinks it might be a sinus infection. Thought I’d have you check it out.”

  “It’s the season for it.” He took the stethoscope from around his neck. “I’ll just check you over, and make sure that’s all it is, alright?”

  Max nodded. Dr. Bishop stepped closer, bringing the scent of a cool forest breeze with him. Why did this man smell so damn good to him? Dr. Bishop put the stethoscope to his back.

  “Breath in.”

  Max cursed under his breath before he breathed in deeply. As he did, he dragged that fresh smell down into his lungs, felt the warmth of the doc’s hand on his back. The stethoscope moved around to his chest.

  “Breath in.”

  Max looked up into the doc’s blue eyes as he took another deep breath. He hadn’t seen that many doctors over his lifetime, but the ones he had seen never looked at him the way Dr. Patrick Bishop watched him now. Those blue eyes gleamed with attraction, burned hot with the heat of arousal. Max’s hands locked down on the table, the paper cover rustling from the force of his grip. His heart was beating hard and fast. He knew the doc would be able to hear it through his instrument. This was insane. He shouldn’t have come here. Max opened his mouth to end the exam and get the hell out of there. But the doc stepped away first. He replaced the stethoscope, and with quick efficiency, he went through the rest of the exam.

  “Looks like Sabrina was right. It is just a sinus infection. It’s not bad now. So as long as you get started on the meds I prescribe for you straight away, you should be able to knock it out in no time. And of course, drink plenty of clear fluids and get some vitamin C in you.”

  “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”

  Patrick went to sit on the stool in front of the little desktop that held a computer. He wrote out some things in the folder and closed it up. After taking a deep breath, he looked up at Max. “I don’t normally do this with my patients. But this is our second time seeing each other, so I hope you don’t think I'm unprofessional.” He took another deep breath. “Would you like to go out to dinner some time?”

  “What?”

  “Dinner. You and me.”

  Max didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d known the man was attracted to him. And coming here rather than going to any of the other hundreds of doctors he could have seen in the city probably looked like he was open to the invitation. But still he was surprised. Surprised enough that he gave an answer that was abrupt, even for him. “I’m not gay.”

  The doc’s eyebrows shot up. He quickly recovered, smoothing his expression out to one of professional friendliness. “My mistake.” He snapped the folder shut and stood. “Your prescription will be waiting on you at the front desk. Take care, Max.” He left, the door closing quietly behind him.

  Max stared at the door after the doctor was gone. He shook his head and got down off the table. Fuck.

  ****

  A couple of days later, Max sat in his station waiting for his appointment to show up. At Bayou City Ink Society, each artist had a semi-private alcove for their work space. With the exception of the open doorways, the rooms were completely enclosed. His room was in the back, furthest away from the noise in the front of the shop and close to his office. Some of his work hung on the glossy black walls, both drawings and pictures of models showing off his tattoos.

  Tonight he’d be getting started on Whitney’s back piece. It was large and would take several sessions to get it done. Thinking of Whitney made him think of the doc. Not that he needed any help to think of the doctor. He’d told the doctor he wasn’t gay. And if he were a wooden puppet, his nose would have grown about three feet. He was gay, but no one knew but him and the random hook ups he had on trips out of town to Dallas or New Orleans. He knew too many people in the gay scene here in Houston to try and get away with anything.

  He was firmly in the closet. Here in Houston, he went out with the occasional woman, always keeping the relationships short, limiting each to three dates. And he didn’t mess with anybody who knew the people he hung with, or each other for that matter. That’s all he needed, for the women he went out with to start talking to his friends or each other about how they never had sex with him. If that were to happen sooner or later, somebody would put two and two together and come up with gay.

  He’d had sex with a few women when he was younger, but quickly realized that wasn’t for him. Wasn’t what he wanted. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t want the trouble he knew would come from revealing his true sexuality. It wasn’t easy being on the down low, but it was the life he’d chosen to live. The problem was, now that he was staring thirty in the face, the thought of going the rest of his life that way was looking less and less appealing.

  The bell over the shop door rang, signaling someone’s arrival. He heard Whitney’s voice and scrubbed a hand over his face. There was no point in worrying about it right now. He needed to get to work.

  “Maximus! I’m here!”

  He stood up from his stool to greet her. “Hey, Whitney. C’mon back,” he called out.

  Her footsteps came closer until she was bursting through the curtain with her usual energy. “I brought company, I hope you don’t mind.”

  Max shook his head, people brought friends with them all the time. “Nope. They can sit for a while and watch a master at work if they want.” The second pair of footsteps reached the doorway. He was shocked to see who followed Whitney in. “Dr. Bishop.”

  “How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me Patrick?”

  CHAPTER 5

  Max quickly disguised his surprise, making like it was no big deal that the doc was there. “Patrick. How’s it going?”

  “Good. Thought I’d come check out the beginning of this new tattoo Whitney is getting, since I didn’t actually get to watch when you did mine. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Max didn’t answer. He just shrugged like it was no big deal and pointed to the armchair in the corner of the small room. The doc went over and took a seat.

  Whitney clapped her hands. “I’m so excited for this! Let’s get going, man.”

  “I’m ready. Stop bouncing around and lay down.”

  Whitney clambered up onto the reclining table. Since this was going to be a long session, it would be easier for her to lie down. She hooked her shirt over her head so that her back was bared while the front of her stayed covered.

  Max went through the routine of preparing his client’s skin and applying the tracing paper. He stayed quiet while he worked, listening to Whitney and her father talk. He didn’t buy that the doc was only there because he wanted to see Whitney get her tattoo. But he wasn’t going to say anything either way. Once Whitney had approved the placement, he turned on the tattoo machine and got started.

  An hour and a half later, Max was still bent over Whitney’s back. His mind was firmly on the work he was doing. Well, most of his mind was. A small part was aware of the man sitting a few feet away from him. Dr. Patrick Bishop. He’d figured his abrupt dismissal of his dinner date would mean that was the last he saw of the man. He’d known Whitney for going on a year and never met her father. There should have been no reason for them to see each other again now that he had his one tattoo.

  He turned away to get more ink, sneaking a glance at the doc as he turned back. Patrick was watching him, just as he had been the other times he’d sneaked a glance. Sitting there in that chair, lounging, with his legs crossed at the ankles and an elbow propped on the arm rest, the doc looked relaxed and comfortable. Like he was content to sit there and watch Max work all night. He was still dressed in his work clothes of button down shirt and slacks. But he was missing the lab coat, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. And his hair was rumpled, the hint of a five o’clock shadow sparkling on his jaw. Max cursed under his breath. Sexy motherfucker. Whitney looked over her shoulder at him.

  “What?”

  Damn, he hadn’t expected her to
hear him. “Nothing,” he answered. He blotted a run of ink on her back. Whitney had held still like a pro as she chattered away to her father, but he was sure she must be getting stiff and tired by now. “You’re doing good, Whitney. How much longer you think you can hold up?”

  “About another half hour?”

  Sabrina came in just as Whitney answered. “Glad it’s not taking too much longer. I’m starving. You guys want to go next door and get something to eat when you’re done?”

  “Sure, babe.”

  “What about you, Max. You in?”

  “Yeah. After this, I won’t feel like cooking when I get home.”

  “Dad, what about you? Wanna eat some bar food?”

  “You know that stuff is bad for you. But I’ll join you.”

  Max looked up at Patrick when he answered. The doctor was looking straight at him. The attraction that had been there ever since he’d first seen the doc sizzled in the air between them. Max shook it off and looked back down to his work. He had a feeling Dr. Bishop wasn’t joining them because he wanted to eat some greasy potato skins. Max could change his mind and go home. But he wanted to see how this was going to play out.

  ****

  “You’ve got a great studio.”

  They’d gone to a bar a couple blocks down from his place. Their group had ordered a few plates of appetizers to split between them all, and settled at a table out on the patio. It was early fall, but since it was Houston, it was still warm enough to sit outside. Whitney and Sabrina were seated next to each other. Dustin, the piercer and Paul, another artist, had joined them and were at the other end of the table. That left Max seated across from Patrick. They’d been talking casually. The tension between them was still there, but it simmered so low that no one else at the table picked up on it. Max accepted the doc’s compliment.

  “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of it.” He took a drink of his beer. “It’s nice to be able to call my own shots.”

  “How did you get into tattooing?”

  “I was always drawing in school.” He laughed. “Even when I wasn’t supposed to be. My teachers were always picking up work that had nothing but doodles all over ‘em. The only class I ever did alright in was art. I knew I wanted to do something with that skill, I just didn’t know how I was going to make any money at it. Until one day, a couple of guys came to school with these boot leg tattoos they’d done. They looked like shit. I knew I could do better. So I got on the internet and did some research. When I found out I needed to apprentice, I caught the bus to Westheimer and went up and down the street until I found a shop willing to take me on. My senior year every day after school I was at that shop, sweeping, cleaning, doing whatever they wanted as the shop bitch. I worked my way up, started learning, until finally I was working solo and making good money. When I wanted to strike out on my own, a friend helped me out.” He raised his glass. “And now I own Bayou City Ink Society, one of the best in Houston.” Max stopped talking. He was surprised at how much his background he’d just shared. For some reason, the doc seemed able to get him to open up.

  “That’s quite a story. I admire your determination at such an early age.”

  Max shrugged and drained his drink. He’d left out a good chunk of the story. That if he hadn’t been determined to make it, he’d have been nothing more than another casualty of the juvenile system; with minimal education, working a dead-end job with low wages and no hope for advancement. He, Max, and Nate had all sworn that they weren’t going to live like that. He stood up from the table, not wanting to get any deeper into conversation with Dr. Bishop. “Gonna get another beer. Anybody want anything?” Everyone shook their heads no so he went off on his own.

  It was a weeknight, so the crowd was fairly thin. It didn’t take him long to get another round. Max was on his way back to their table when he noticed the doc standing off to the side, in a hallway that lead to a different section of the patio. Partially hidden by the ivy that hung down over the door way, he was in shadow, his silver hair a subtle shine in the one spot of light that hit the area. Max stopped. He might not have paid much attention in school, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew the doc was waiting there for him. When he got his feet moving again, he changed his course slightly, angling towards where the doctor stood. When he was in front him, Patrick spoke.

  “You and I have a lot in common.”

  Max raised his chin. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

  “We both have our own businesses. We both enjoy art, just in different mediums. We like sci-fi. And…”

  The doctor paused and Max waited there for several seconds, half in the dark with the doc, half in the light of the bar. When he couldn’t wait anymore, he prompted him. “And?”

  “And we both spent a large part of our lives in the closet.”

  Max’s grip tightened on the handle of his beer mug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patrick didn’t say anything, he just took a step back, further into the shadows. Two thudding heartbeats later, Max followed. Now they were both hidden away, the barest hint of light allowing him to see Patrick’s face.

  “You do know, Max. I see the way you look at me.”

  Max took a nonchalant sip of his beer. “I don’t look at you any kind of way.”

  “Sure you ,” Patrick said with a slow smile. “Let me tell you how I look at you. Maybe that will ring a bell.”

  He moved in closer, close enough for Max to catch a hint of that damn cologne. You’d think he was a fucking tree hugger as much as he loved that smell.

  “I look at you and I see full lips that I’ve been spending entirely too much time thinking about. Imagining what they taste like. What it will be like when I kiss them.”

  Patrick leaned in closer. Max didn’t move. Partly because he didn’t want to back down. Partly because he wanted to be close to the other man.

  “What they'll feel like against my skin.”

  Max still didn’t move as Patrick came even closer, close enough that there was the soft sound of cloth sliding against cloth as their chests brushed together. He didn’t move as Patrick took the beer from his hand, setting it on the recessed shelf next to him. He didn’t move as Patrick leaned in, the scent of his cologne wrapping around him, again making him want to press his face to the doc’s throat. Patrick’s lips touched his. Just a brush, too light to be a kiss, too warm and soft to be anything else.

  Patrick pulled back. “I wonder if I’ll ever get past imagining all that.”

  Max heard the crinkle of paper and felt Patrick slip something in his pocket.

  “That’s my phone number. Call me if you want to help me satisfy my curiosity. If not, I understand.” The doc took another step back. “I’ve already said goodnight to Whitney and Sabrina, so they won’t know you were talking to me. I hope to hear from you, Max.” Patrick stepped around him, walking away without looking back. But Max watched him until he was out of sight.

  Max took a second to get his shit together before he grabbed his beer and went to rejoin the group at the table. He didn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Patrick. But he kept replaying it in his head. And he was aware of the slip of paper in his pocket for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 6

  Patrick was at home, enjoying a quiet night in. He’d already gone through his patient charts for tomorrow, so he was free to relax. He contemplated starting a movie while his mind wandered to thoughts of Max. He was still surprised at what he’d said to him the other day. Patrick was usually the initiator in relationships, so there was nothing new there. But he’d already been shot down by Max once before. He knew the other man was in the closet, so why had he made a second attempt at him? He couldn’t explain it beyond the fact that he found Max attractive. He thought Max’s dark skin and tall, muscled frame were beautiful. But physical attraction wasn’t enough reason to continue pursuing a man who so far¸ hadn’t reciprocated the attention.

  Patrick sighed and got up to pour himself a glass of brandy. Before he made it
to the liquor cabinet, his phone rang. Patrick retraced his steps to the couch, picking his phone up from the coffee table. He looked at the screen but didn’t recognize the number. Sliding his thumb over the green arrow, he connected the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dr. Bishop.”

  Patrick’s eyes popped wide with surprise, his fingers tightening on the phone. He recognized that smooth, low voice. “Max. How are you?”

  “Doing good. How ‘bout you?”

  “I’m alright. Just having a quiet evening at home.” Patrick sat on the couch. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  A quiet laugh came over the phone. “Wasn’t expecting to call.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Patrick wasn’t sure what to say next. Max spoke before he could.

  “Why did you give me your number?”

  “Because I want to talk to you. And like I told you the other night I’ve been thinking about you ever since we met.”

  “Why?”

  Patrick laughed. “You want me to tell you how gorgeous you are?”

  A frustrated noise came over the line. “No. Just, how did you know that I would be into you, a man, like that? That doesn’t usually happen.”

  “Maybe because of the don’t fuck with you vibe that you throw off? I’m sure that stops plenty of people from approaching you.”

  “So why didn’t it stop you?”

  Patrick thought for a moment as he tried to explain it. “You let your guard down for a few minutes at the convention. And when I looked at you, when I caught you with your guard down, I saw that you were attracted to me. I know attraction when I see it, just like you know it when you see it.” There was nothing but quiet from the other end, so Patrick continued on. “You closed up on me pretty quick, but it was too late. I’d already decided what I wanted.”

  “Just like that, huh? So what is it that you want?”

  “I told you. I want to kiss you.” His voice lowered. “I want to find out what those lips feel like, what they taste like.” Patrick swore he heard a faint groan on Max’s end. But when he spoke again, he changed the subject.