by Andrew Grey
“I get it,” he cried, racing for the door. He pulled it open. “You not Mr. Pierre,” he said and then closed the door. Jordan hurried over, opening the door once again.
“I’m sorry, Jeremiah has a bit of a one-track mind.” Jordan lifted Jeremiah into his arms, suppressing a sigh as he recognized the type. Ill-fitting suit, clipboard… pinched lips and bags under the eyes from overwork. Social Services on one of their surprise visits.
“Quinton Davis from Child Services. May I come in?” He leaned forward to peer inside.
“Just for a minute. Jeremiah and I are about to go out for the morning,” Jordan said, not going to go into details.
“We’re going to go to the go-cart track, and I get to ride in a police car!” Jeremiah grinned and squirmed to be let down. Since he was heavy, Jordan set him on his feet, and he hurried back to the sofa.
“And why does he think he deserves to ride in a police car?” Quinton asked with a glare. “We don’t frighten children with threats of the police.” He began making notes on his clipboard, and Jordan was about to explain when Pierre strode up the walk.
“Hey,” Jordan said as Pierre stepped inside. “Quinton Davis from Child Services, this is Deputy Pierre Ravelle from the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Mr. Pierre! I’m ready for my police car ride, like you promised.” Jeremiah raced over to him, and Pierre knelt down to his height.
“Absolutely, buddy. You were good when you were in the hospital, so after we have lunch and then ride go-carts and play laser tag and stuff, I’ll take you to the station and you can ride in a police car just like I promised.”
Jordan shared a look with the social worker as he scratched out his notes. They had a difficult job to do, but sometimes they could be total dicks. And it seemed that this time Jordan had gotten one of those.
“May I help you?” Pierre asked in a slow, soft voice that seemed to melt Quinton’s butter. His lips drew upward slightly and his eyes seemed less drone-like. Hell, maybe there was life in him after all. “As you can probably guess, we were about to go out for the afternoon. So, was there something specific you needed?”
“I was just making a routine unannounced visit. It’s required by the court.” Quinton shifted his weight from foot to foot, clutching his clipboard.
“Excellent.” Pierre looked at his watch. “Finish up your visit and we can go. You have five minutes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped back. “After all, we have reservations.” He motioned inside, and Quinton wandered through the house.
Jeremiah pulled Pierre to the sofa, turning to Disney Junior on the television. They watched and Jeremiah laughed while Quinton looked around and asked a few questions.
“Why was Jeremiah in the hospital?”
“He wasn’t feeling well, and with his history, we took him in to make sure it wasn’t a recurrence of his leukemia. It was just a touch of the flu, and we think he has issues with milk, so we’ve cut that out of his diet. He’s much better now, as you can see.” Jordan sighed as his gaze shifted to Jeremiah and Pierre, laughing at the on-screen antics. “Is there anything else? You can see the place is clean and Jeremiah has his own room. There’s food in the refrigerator and he’s happy. He goes to day care while I’m at work.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m Judge Crawford’s paralegal and assistant down at the courthouse.” That usually stopped them in their tracks. “I’ve worked for him for ten months, and before that I clerked for a few other judges. I’m a paralegal by trade, and I want to become a lawyer eventually, but that takes money, and Jeremiah and what he needs come first.” He smiled. Jordan was getting used to the routine. This was the third caseworker he’d had in eight months, and he was getting a little tired of always seeing a new face and going over the same information again and again because they never seemed to keep their records straight.
“I see that. What sort of things do you and Jeremiah do for fun?”
Jordan couldn’t believe this. “Well, this afternoon we’re riding go-carts and playing games just outside town—that is, if we can get going.” He made a point of letting Quinton know he was holding them up. “Look, it’s Saturday. You made your visit and saw what you needed. It’s one of the few days I get to spend with Jeremiah, and we’ve got to get going. It isn’t fair to him.” Jordan looked toward the door.
“I just have a few questions.”
“Dude,” Pierre said, coming over. “He told you we have plans. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll call your boss on Monday and tell him that you stopped in.”
Damn, the threat in Pierre’s words was a turn-on… in a weird way.
Quinton paled a little and decided he could call next week and make an appointment to get together. Pierre saw him to the door and closed it.
“I like Donald a lot. He’s with Child Services and is the husband of one of the Carlisle PD officers. But that guy wasn’t going to take no for an answer and probably would have one-more-questioned you all morning.” Pierre turned off the television. “You ready to go have fun?” he asked Jeremiah, but looked straight at Jordan, sending a wave of heat up his spine.
They both nodded as Jeremiah hurried to the door, and Jordan tried to keep the blood from running south as he thought of all the things those simple words could mean.
AFTER TRANSFERRING Jeremiah’s booster seat to Pierre’s car, they drove to the edge of town to the Carlisle Fun Center. It took Pierre a little while to find a parking spot because there were so many people.
“I’m going to get activity tickets. Do you want to roller-skate?”
Jeremiah immediately jumped up and down, so Pierre must have taken that as a yes. Jordan wasn’t quite as convinced, but Pierre got them inside and returned with strips of tickets.
“These are for the go-carts. I got three rides for each of us. I also got some laser tag games. Each session is three games. I got us an hour of roller-skating and then some game tokens.” Pierre smiled. “So, what do you want to do first?”
“Carts?” Jeremiah asked, watching the guys zooming on the indoor track.
“We’re going to use the ones outside,” Pierre told him, and Jordan took Jeremiah’s hand.
“Are there any big enough for all three of us?” Jordan asked.
“No. Jeremiah can go with one of us and the other will have to ride alone. I think that’s the best we can do.” Pierre knelt down. “Do you want to ride with me?”
“Yes!” Jeremiah jumped into Pierre’s arms.
“Okay. Then you and I will race Daddy. We’ll see if we can beat him.” Pierre got them in line and handed Jordan a ticket. Jordan would have liked to have been able to ride with Pierre, but he took the car right behind him and got all buckled in.
Once they were off, Jordan zoomed past, waving as Pierre and Jeremiah disappeared behind him. Others zipped by him, and he drove as fast as he could, the wind rushing around him. When he approached Pierre and Jeremiah from behind, he rode near them, Jeremiah turning to wave. It was so cute the way Pierre had one arm around Jeremiah and the other steering the car.
By the time their ride was over, Pierre was all smiles, Jeremiah a bundle of energy, and Jordan’s heart was racing. “That was so much fun.”
“Can I ride with you, Daddy?” Jeremiah asked, and they took their second turn, with Pierre racing alone this time.
After the third race, when Jeremiah rode with Pierre again, they suited up for laser tag, which they could do all at the same time. They ended up on the same team and stalked the others, shooting and scoring around the obstacles in the course. Jeremiah had a great time, and during the third game, he raced off in search of one of the other kids.
Jordan crouched low, sneaking around the back in order to get a bead on one of the players from the opposing team. He took cover behind one of the obstacles glowing pink and orange in the black light. His quarry quickly changed direction, and Jordan turned abruptly, jumping to his feet and crashing into Pierre. His ar
ms encircled Jordan as Pierre lost his balance and they both tumbled to the thickly carpeted floor.
Pierre’s chuckle resonated in Jordan’s mind over the cacophony of yells, shouts, and electronic pings of targets that filled the room around them. Pierre’s deep brown eyes engulfed him, and Jordan swallowed hard, his mouth becoming as dry as a desert and his breath hitching. Being the object of Pierre’s intense gaze sent waves of heat burning through him. Jordan blinked and held still, not wanting to do anything that might make Pierre realize where he was and what they were doing. This, even lying on the floor with the butt of a laser tag gun pressed between them, was a lot more desirable than putting distance between them. Pierre’s arm slid up his back from his waist to ghost over his neck, and then his fingers carded through Jordan’s hair.
“Soft,” Pierre whispered and leaned upward, closing the distance between them.
“Daddy! I got one of the bad guys,” Jeremiah called, getting louder as he spoke. Pierre tightened his hold just a little, and in a haze of desire, Jordan closed the distance between them. Pierre’s lips were hard and soft at the same time, insistent, and sent a wave of need and longing rushing through him. “You’re kissing.”
The Pierre-induced fog that had gripped Jordan’s mind dissipated and he realized where he was and who was watching. Jordan backed away and got to his feet. “Jeremiah, it’s….”
Before he could get another word out, Jeremiah raced away, and Jordan’s heart sank. What if he’d scarred him for life or something?
“No fair!” Jeremiah’s voice rang out, and Jordan ran to see what was wrong. He caught Jeremiah as he raced back to home base to charge up.
Pierre came to stand next to him, his hand gently placed at the small of his back. “It’s okay. See? He’s playing and laughing like nothing happened.”
Jordan looked up into Pierre’s heated gaze, and Pierre leaned down, placing his lips inches from Jordan’s ear.
“It was just a kiss,” he breathed. “An earth-shattering, amazing kiss that only makes me want to take you home and see what another would taste like. Hell, it makes me want to see what the rest of you tastes like.”
Jordan turned, his throat and mouth so damn dry, he couldn’t talk for a few seconds. “Pierre, I….” He was hyperaware of Pierre’s hand and the way Pierre’s fingers felt through his shirt. Jordan knew he was barely touching him, but it felt as though he were burrowing under his clothes, and Jordan wanted that so much. He leaned closer to Pierre and found him right there, ready to take his weight.
The warning bell sounded that the game had two minutes left. Neither he nor Pierre moved. Jordan watched Jeremiah and felt Pierre near him, wondering if he’d somehow hit the jackpot.
The game ended, and Jordan called Jeremiah over as everyone filed to the exit. He held his hand and they left, took off their vests, and handed in the laser guns.
“That was fun! Can we do it again?” Jeremiah stopped, looking up at both of them. “You can even kiss again if you want. I promise I won’t look because kissing is gross.”
“You’ll like it when you get older,” Pierre told him.
Jeremiah made a yucky face and shook his head. “Nope.” He stuck his tongue out to make his point further.
“That’s enough of that,” Jordan scolded gently. “We’ve talked about sticking your tongue out.”
“But Pierre was doing it when he kissed you.”
Jordan sputtered, glancing at Pierre, speechless and wishing he could crawl under a rock, especially with all the other people around, listening in. Pierre, on the other hand, doubled over with laughter, and Jeremiah joined right in with him. The heat in Jordan’s cheeks rose to white-hot.
Pierre straightened up and his laughter died quickly. “There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
“You have people laughing at you and see how you feel,” Jordan grumbled. He could take a lot from others, but he’d had enough laughter at his expense to last him the rest of his life. Just when he thought all the shit from high school was behind him, that crap somehow managed to come forward and bite him in the ass when he least expected it.
“We weren’t.” Pierre took his hand. “It was just funny, but we weren’t laughing at you, were we?” Pierre asked Jeremiah, who shook his head.
“Don’t be sad, Daddy.” Jeremiah hugged his legs, and Jordan lifted him into his arms. “You’re the best daddy ever.” He put his head on Jordan’s shoulder, and Jordan wanted to smack himself. All he’d managed to do was upset Jeremiah. He needed to learn to be bigger than that and not let old shit he couldn’t do anything about get to him.
“How about we go upstairs and roller-skate? How does that sound?” He stroked Jeremiah’s hair. It wasn’t going to be very much longer before he wasn’t going to be able to hold him like this anymore. Jeremiah was growing up fast, and soon he’d be too big to pick up and carry. “Come on. Let’s go have some more fun.” Jordan needed to dispel this gloom that he’d brought to the day. He set Jeremiah down, and the little guy raced toward the steps.
Pierre took his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know. It was me, not you.” Jordan squeezed Pierre’s fingers and then released them, heading for the stairs before Jeremiah could get into trouble.
IT HAD been years since he’d been on roller skates, and after falling on his butt three times, Jordan was finally remembering how to do it. Jeremiah had taken off and not looked back. Jordan had expected Jeremiah would need some coaching and hand-holding, but his learning curve was all of ten seconds and he’d gotten the hang of it just like that.
Jordan, on the other hand, felt ridiculous as everyone else zoomed by, and all he seemed to be able to do was barely manage to keep his feet under him. He grabbed for the wall encircling the rink and got it just before his feet went out from under him again.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Jeremiah asked as he rolled over, took his hand, and nearly pulled Jordan away from the only thing keeping him from falling. This was a really bad idea, and he should probably find a bench somewhere and watch.
“Hey.” Pierre came to a stop next to him, his hair blowing in the breeze.
“I think I’m going to watch.”
Pierre helped him upright. “Come on. Take my hand and we’ll go together.” He helped him away from the wall, and Jordan clutched him like a lifeline. Pierre took Jeremiah’s hand as well, and they left the safety of the wall, slowly making their way around.
“Is that better?” Pierre asked.
Jordan nodded, trying to stay upright. Hell, as long as he got to hold Pierre’s hand and be the object of his gaze, he’d fumble his way around this damn rink for hours.
“Are you having fun?”
Jeremiah beamed up at Pierre. “Yes.” He grinned, showing off the spots where his front teeth had been. “Can we go fast now?”
“Your daddy needs some time.” Pierre held him a little tighter and sped up. Jordan knew they weren’t going very fast, judging by the way everyone moved past them at lightning speed. “Is that better?”
Jeremiah nodded, and they continued around. After a little while, Jeremiah asked if he could skate with some of the other kids. Jordan told him yes, and he scooted off. Jordan kept an eye on him, but once Jeremiah was part of the group, Pierre’s hand left his and slid around his waist.
“Is that better?”
“Much.” Jordan finally felt steady on his legs, even if he suddenly couldn’t feel his feet. Not that he cared in the least. “This was amazing fun. Thank you.” He looked around, spotting Jeremiah with some of the kids he’d played laser tag with. They were all having fun, and Jordan leaned against Pierre. He needed to be strong so much of the time. It was nice to have someone to lean on and help look out for him for a change.
“Something has been bothering you,” Pierre said, and Jordan tensed. “I see it when you don’t think anyone is looking, especially at work. Don’t you think I can feel you? You’re instantly strung as tight as a drum. What’s wrong?”
Jordan shook his head as he remembered that Pierre wasn’t just the guy who had asked him on a date—he was also a policeman. He was torn, because as soon as he said something, then it was out there, which would mean opening a giant can of worms that was certain to have huge ramifications for him and Jeremiah. His son, or soon-to-be son, was all that mattered. Jordan would do just about anything to protect him. But what had gotten under Jordan’s skin for so long was the price that protection was costing him.
“I can see the war battling inside you,” Pierre said, and Jordan had to look away. This was someone trained to detect evasion and to be suspicious.
“Please don’t.” He wasn’t going to be able to hold out if Pierre pressed him, especially with as comfortable as he felt right now. “Is that why you brought me here? To try to get me to spill my secrets?”
“So there is something going on? Does it have to do with the threats the judge has been receiving?” Pierre continued guiding him around the rink, but Jordan suddenly felt a little ill and wanted to get off this merry-go-round. “You know you can tell me.”
Jordan broke away and reached for the wall to stop his motion. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Pierre glided to a stop next to him. “Of course I didn’t ask you here for that. I asked you and Jeremiah here because I like you and because you fascinate me. But I see the turmoil that runs through you and the way you seem tentative and jumpy. I doubt that’s how you are naturally. So if that’s true, then there has to be a cause, and the most logical one would have to do with the threats happening at work.” He glided around him to the other side, standing close. “Something is really getting to you.”
Jordan sighed. “How can you tell?” There was little use trying to hide it.
“Because when you forget yourself, you smile, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes that takes my breath away. Whatever is bothering you disappears for a few minutes and you light up. But then it returns and the cloud descends over you again.” Pierre leaned against the board, looking at him and then waving. Jeremiah passed, and Jordan watched as he grinned, gliding in a group of kids his own age.
