by Sam Burns
“Um, yeah? It was weird. He was here last night, and Jon thought he was watching you then. He gave us some lame excuse about not wanting to interrupt your date, but I didn’t buy it for a second. Then he was watching Jon and Miles eat today.” She looked nervous and fidgeted with her hair.
“That is weird,” Keegan conceded. “But Phil isn’t, or at least he wasn’t, that bad.”
“Who is he?” she asked.
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? “He, ah, well, we used to date.”
Her expression turned from worry to horror. “Key, no! Not a smarmy, gross guy like that!”
Smarmy? Phil was one of those guys who spent an hour on his hair products and shaving routine every day, sure. He was a little shallow, and easily bored, but smarmy wasn’t ever a word Keegan would have used to describe him. “What the hell did he do?”
“Other than stalk your boyfriend?” she asked. “He was just—Jesus, Key, I don’t know. I just don’t like him.”
Keegan had always thought of Phil as his best choice in the dating arena. He had dated guys who worked for his dad, guys who drank, guys who cheated, even a guy who hit him. Once. But Phil hadn’t done any of that. Phil hadn’t been a criminal, he’d been a model. He had been too worried about his appearance to drink, and usually too busy working to even think about cheating. He sure as hell hadn’t hit anyone, possibly in his whole life.
Over the years since their breakup, Keegan had always thought of Phil as “the one that got away.” There hadn’t even been a real breakup. They had slowly drifted apart during the year after the shooting. Keegan had been so wrapped up in the trial and the doctors and the physical therapy that he’d hardly had a free moment to take Phil out. Phil hadn’t interfered or demanded attention. He’d just been gone one day, along with all of the things he’d kept at Keegan’s old apartment.
They hadn’t ever spoken of it. They hadn’t spoken at all. Keegan’s phone number had changed three times during that year because the press kept finding and harassing him, and he doubted Phil had the most recent one.
“Key?” Brigit asked. “You keep drifting off on me. Should you go home and get some sleep?”
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, probably. But seriously, Brigit, Phil’s not a big deal.”
“He never worked for, um—”
He should have suspected that was her biggest concern. The family business had always been kept far from Wilde’s, and it was understandable that she would want to make sure it stayed that way. “No, Brigit. He’s a model. He never worked for the old man.”
Her nose curled up. “A model? Who wants a Ken doll as a model? He’s so bland and boring. Better someone hot like you, or polished and professional like Jon.”
Keegan blinked. Hot like him? He shook himself. “That’s the most disturbing thing you’ve ever said to me, including that time you asked for blowjob pointers.”
“Oh, you know you loved being the expert on something,” she said, sitting back in the chair and looking self-satisfied.
“Except I wasn’t the expert. Drew knows more about blowjobs than I even knew was possible.” He blinked some more and shook his head, still awed by the lesson the chef had given them both that night. Keegan hadn’t had sex in years, not since—well, not since Phil. Not since long before Phil had left.
He’d always wondered if that had been why Phil left—because Keegan had been gone emotionally long before either of them walked out the door.
“Yeah, he does,” Brigit sighed. “I didn’t even know half that stuff. Haven’t gotten to try it out, either.”
“When the hell do you have time to date?” he asked her.
“You would give me any time off I asked for, and we both know it. I just don’t make time to date.” She gave him a tiny, bitter smile. “I think part of me keeps expecting to get a call saying it was all a mistake, and Adam’s on his way home from Iraq.”
He flinched at that. He supposed it wasn’t surprising, but it was still miserable to think about. Keegan had never met Adam. He had met Brigit during her mad rush to find a job to support her baby after his death. Still, he figured that any man who’d earned his best friend’s love would want her to be happy above all. “He wouldn’t mind, I don’t think.”
She laughed, but it was more bitter than amused, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “That’s the worst part; I know he wouldn’t. If he were a ghost sitting on my shoulder, he’d be screaming for me to get the hell out there.” She shook her head, wiping her eyes with one hand. “But that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about your creepy ex bothering your boyfriend.”
Keegan considered pointing out that after two dates, it was way too early to be calling Jon his boyfriend, but he wasn’t naive enough to think she’d listen. “Did he harass Jon? What happened?”
“Jon caught him staring and recognized him from last night,” she said, stopping to think about it. “He asked me if I recognized him. I said I didn’t know him, but that he’d been here last night. Jon said he was, um, ‘glaring’ at you and him last night. He was not happy.”
“Not happy?” Keegan asked, worried. “Was he pissed when he left? Did he—”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” she denied before he’d even finished his question. “He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad about some creepy guy stalking you. He made the guy make an appointment to see you, and leave his number so you could cancel if you wanted to.”
Keegan sat there staring at her for a moment, unable to process what she’d just said. Jon’s first instinct had been to protect Keegan, not to assume the worst or get mad. Nothing like that had ever happened to Keegan before. No one protected him, and no one ever had.
It felt . . . nice.
#
The “appointment” to see Phil was Monday morning, well before Keegan usually got to work. Still, the appointment was Jon’s way of protecting Keegan, so he was damn well gonna keep it.
He’d spent most of Sunday thinking about it and feeling warm all over. Then thinking of the blowjob lesson with Drew years earlier and feeling even warmer. He hadn’t spent so much time thinking about sex in years. It was strange, distracting, and exhilarating. He felt a decade younger.
A small, irrational part of Keegan wanted to call Jon and ask him over, then jump on him when he arrived. That didn’t seem like the kind of thing Jon would enjoy though. It was too spontaneous and ignored the accepted rules of dating. Jon was a pretty big fan of rules.
So instead of calling, he wondered what sex would be like with Jon. It had been so damned long, Keegan wasn’t sure he remembered what it felt like, what it smelled and tasted like. He wanted to remember.
He decided to take a cold shower to chill his suddenly active libido.
It didn’t work as intended. He had never been one to punish himself physically, and he left the water lukewarm. When he got in, he decided that there was no point in a cold shower at all, so he figured he’d take a regular one and turned the heat up all the way.
The warm water running over his body felt luxurious in a way he hadn’t stopped to appreciate in years. He grabbed the shampoo and started soaping his hair, trying to put a word to the way he felt.
Sexy.
For the first time in years, he felt fucking sexy.
Keegan decided to test just how far he could take that feeling. Adding shampoo to his hand, he reached down and gave his cock an experimental caress. It was good. The shaft swelled quickly in his hand, and images flooded his mind. He felt a little guilty for it, but he didn’t even try to keep himself from picturing Jon. His brain shied away from thinking of Phil, or any other man he’d ever slept with.
No, it was all Jon. Jon’s bright smile, his perfect hair, his beautiful blue eyes.
He imagined Jon stalking into the bathroom, unbuckling his belt and sliding it free of the loops. Unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall, followed by his underwear. Briefs, Keegan thought, but not white. Color-coordinated to match his j
acket or his tie.
The Jon in his mind winked at him, peeling himself out of the briefs and letting them pool on the floor at his feet. He was beautiful everywhere. Not a gym bunny, but in good shape, with tanned, defined muscles. He stepped toward the shower, sliding the door fully open and slipping inside, pressing his body against Keegan’s.
He reached down between their bodies, wrapping his hand around both their cocks and squeezing, and—
Keegan’s head fell back against the turquoise tiles of his shower as he came, panting, eyes glued shut, and an image of Jon fixed in his mind.
He licked his lips and smiled. Hell, it had been a long time since he’d had such a vivid fantasy, let alone come so easily at his own touch.
It was possible that none of the things in his life had a damned thing to do with Jon Brookfield. Maybe his rebellion against his father’s wishes would have happened anyway. Maybe he was finally ready for a relationship with someone, and his libido woke up on its own, not for anyone specific. Maybe that warm, safe feeling that he’d never had before in his life was just heartburn.
Or maybe it had everything to do with the prim, protective agent who’d walked into his office at just the right time.
#
Keegan turned up at Wilde’s at nine on Monday morning. It was too early, but like the week before, he figured that if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well do something useful and go to work.
Brigit was there before him, and she looked exhausted. He raised an eyebrow at her and she waved him off, mumbling something that sounded like a curse on his family’s gene pool. He didn’t even bother trying to stifle his laughter as he headed for the laundry room to check on the napkins.
The back door was wedged open, and Chef Drew was sitting on the railing just beyond, smoking.
Keegan raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you’d quit.”
“I did,” Drew agreed. “But then my sous chef left because she’s moving to California, and now I have to be here at nine in the morning again.” He looked at the cigarette, curling up his nose as though it offended even him.
“Isn’t smoking bad for your taste buds or something?”
Drew nodded as he took another drag.
Keegan thought he might recognize the expression on his chef’s face. “Feeling your social life circling the drain?”
Letting out a smoke-filled sigh, Drew nodded. “I had an honest-to-god date, Keegan. And I had to cancel because I’m working a twelve. Again.”
Walking over to the doorway, Keegan leaned against the outside edge of the frame. “So promote the pastry chef. What’s her name? Stephanie?”
Drew raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want me promoting people who couldn’t do the whole menu?”
“Yeah, like you should listen to my opinion on how to run the kitchen.” Keegan hadn’t thought Drew did listen to his thoughts on the kitchen. He certainly hadn’t intended to make them orders. What did he know about working in a kitchen? “It’s your damn kitchen, Drew. Whatever makes your life easier. Maybe two part-time people?”
Drew snorted. “You mean two full-time people who work half as much as you or me?”
Keegan grinned back. “Sure. Whatever works. If you need two full-time people, hire them. We can afford another chef, Drew.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Keegan walked over and plucked the cigarette from the other man’s fingers, taking a drag.
It had been so long since he’d smoked. It was exactly like he remembered, perfect and horrible at the same time. His lungs burned with the heat, and his father’s many lectures on how smoking was bad for him came back full force. He looked down at the cigarette. Maybe the old man was still right about a few things, no matter how much his brain still loved nicotine. He handed the cigarette back.
“You look sad,” Drew said, his gaze dropping to the cigarette in his hand. He seemed confused, head cocked to the side curiously.
Keegan made a disgusted face. “Would you laugh at me if I said I’m finally starting to realize that I’m a fucking adult?”
Drew snorted before taking one last drag and then stubbing the cigarette out on the railing. “Welcome to your thirties, eh. I think you’ve arrived early, but we welcome you to the fold.”
“I never thought I’d live to see thirty,” he admitted, his voice coming out in a near whisper.
Drew looked taken aback. “Jesus Keegan, I know you had a tough life before the restaurant, but that’s hardcore.”
Keegan shrugged, leaning against the rail and looking down at the pavement. His therapist said it was pretty common for people in his situation to put an expiration date on their lives. Trying to figure out what he was going to do after thirty was still hard, but he had finally realized he was going to have to deal with it.
He looked over at Drew. “Guess I’m gonna have to decide what to do with the rest of my life, huh?”
Drew hopped down and leaned on the rail next to him, bumping their shoulders together. “You should start by hiring someone to fill in here while you date your FBI guy. The staff seem to think he’s pretty great.”
For the first time since opening Wilde’s, Keegan considered it. A new member of management. A new sous chef. He shrugged. “Why the hell not? We make enough money.”
Drew gave him a brilliant smile and nodded. “Guess I should toss the rest of my pack, then. No more bad habits for us.”
Keegan ducked his head. “Just maybe some sex for a change,” he said as he turned and walked back inside.
“Oh my god, that sounds amazing,” Drew called after him. “I’ve got to get a look at this Agent Hottie of yours, see if he’s as perfect as the staff are whispering he is.”
As Drew was saying it, Keegan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out to check, he couldn’t help but smile. Jon, calling five minutes before Phil was supposed to show.
“Checking up on me, Agent Brookfield?” Keegan said once he accepted the call.
Jon sighed on the other end of the line. “I wanted to be there, but I’m kind of trapped in the office. And I’ve already taken two half days in the last week, so I shouldn’t come over until six.”
“I’ll be okay,” Keegan said with a chuckle. He hesitated before continuing—he wanted to explain everything, but he was worried Jon would judge him for dating someone who had made such a bad impression. Ah well, lies were no way to start a relationship. “He’s my ex.”
“Ouch. Do you want me to come down?” Jon’s voice held only concern, none of the disgust Keegan had been expecting.
Keegan hardly knew how to respond. Did he want Jon there? Sure. Was he going to show that kind of weakness? Hell no. “That’s got to be the best offer I’ve had all weekend, but I can handle this.”
“You sure?” Jon asked. “He didn’t exactly give off nice-guy vibes.”
“I swear, you and Brigit. He’s a model, not a mobster. I promise he’s not dangerous, unless he’s changed a hell of a lot in the last few years.”
Jon sighed deeply. It took a moment before he responded. “Be careful, okay? For the sake of your overly concerned, um”—he trailed off for a second before finding his footing—“guy you’re dating?”
“My overly concerned guy I’m dating?” Keegan asked. It took everything he had not to laugh out loud, but he figured that wasn’t what his guy-he-was-dating wanted.
“We are dating, aren’t we?” Jon’s voice was concerned, as though he had doubts. “I mean, I don’t want to put pressure—”
“We’re dating,” Keegan agreed. “I was just trying to decide if it was too early for the b-word.”
“‘Buffoon’? It’s never too early. If you mean ‘baby,’ though, it’s always too early for that.” There was amusement in Jon’s voice, but an underlying tension as well.
Keegan understood the tension. It was early in a relationship to be getting attached, but in the past, Keegan had always been the kind of guy to act first and think later. He’d spent the last six
years of his life trying to bury the destructive, impulsive part of his personality. His best decisions were made on the fly, though, like hiring Brigit, or asking Jon out, or telling Drew to just hire another damned chef if he needed one.
“Keegan?” Jon’s voice was quiet, almost reserved. “Is everything okay? I’m not pushing you too hard here, am I? And I guess you can call me ‘baby’ if you’re really attached to it . . .”
“Jesus, no!” Keegan answered without thinking. “Never call me ‘baby.’ ‘Boyfriend,’ I think I can live with.”
“Boyfriend it is, then,” Jon answered, as though he’d been waiting for the cue. “So this guy—you dated him?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you call him your boyfriend?” Jon didn’t sound worried, just a little curious.
Keegan considered before answering. “You know, I don’t remember. Dad used to call him my boy-toy.”
Jon snorted. “Bet that pissed you off.”
Keegan wondered if he was that easy to read. They’d known each other less than a week, and Jon could guess how Keegan had reacted to a tiny thing his dad had said years earlier. “A little. Dad’s never liked anyone I dated, though. One way or another, they were never good enough for him.”
Jon was quiet for a moment. “He’s not happy this time, either.”
Damn, he was right. The revelation hit him hard. His father had never liked a single one of his boyfriends. Family employees, strangers, schoolmates—it didn’t seem to matter who they were, or where they’d come from. Jon was just another on a long list. It had felt new because it had been so long since Keegan had dated anyone, but it wasn’t. Jon could’ve been his dad’s right-hand man, and Brendan would’ve hated him the second Keegan started dating him.
In the past, Keegan had always reacted the same way—he’d agreed with his father, and the relationships had fizzled. He had only taken Phil home once. The relationship hadn’t been broken over that one visit, but once it became clear that Phil would never have his father’s approval, Keegan didn’t think he’d ever taken it seriously again.
