Roz snorted. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you get out of the shallow end. I know you’re most comfortable there.”
“Hey!” Patrick said, affronted. “I am not shallow!”
“You’re right,” Roz agreed. “You are a slut, though.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“You got it. So. Are you coming swimming, or what?”
“I didn’t exactly come dressed for the occasion,” Patrick pointed out. “And as much as I know you want to see me naked, I don’t think I should be parading around in the altogether around the eight-to-ten-year-olds. Some of the parents might complain.”
Roz grinned. “Some of them might,” she said. “Luckily for you, one of us prepared for the occasion.” She led him out of the back room and into her office again, and then pulled a bathing suit from the bottom drawer. “I figured you might need one. Your friend might have forgotten to pack you one all together.”
“I’d hate to have to go skinny-dipping,” Patrick lied with a leer. His arm was tired already, but he was never going to get anywhere if he didn’t push his own limits. He’d learned that the last time he was shot. “You’re the boss. Lead the way.”
Patrick changed in the back room; then Roz handed him a towel, and he followed her downstairs to the basement, where the pools were. It smelled strongly of chlorine, and the echoes of the swimming instructor’s voice from the lap pool reverberated off the tiled walls. There was a smaller, chest-deep pool for, he assumed, aquafitness and physical therapy, as well as a shallow kiddie pool and a large spa. He was definitely interested in checking that out later.
“I had no idea this place was so big,” Patrick admitted, throwing the towel over the back of a chair. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s the only public pool for miles around,” Roz told him, stripping off her own clothes to reveal a bright red one-piece bathing suit underneath. “It’s good to have a monopoly.” She gave him a gentle shove toward the edge of the pool. “Come on, water’s warm, I promise.”
“Hey, no pushing.” They made faces at each other, and then Patrick slid into the water. It was warm, but still cool enough to be refreshing. “Does your kiddie swimming instructor always look at you like that? I’ve still got one good arm; I could punch him if you like.”
“Patrick! No beating up my staff.” Roz jumped in with a splash. “Besides, you’d likely just break your hand, and then where would you be? Pete’s a very good teacher, and he’s great with the kids, but he is also very young.” She grinned. “He hasn’t yet got the fine motor control to keep his eyes above the neck. And as long as it’s me he’s ogling and not one of the other employees, there won’t be a problem.”
That seemed fair enough. Besides, it wasn’t like Patrick could blame the guy for staring. He wasn’t exactly well-known for being able to keep his eyes—or his hands—to himself. “Okay, so where do we start?”
The exercises were draining but surprisingly relaxing. It was good to see how great Roz was at her job and how much she obviously enjoyed it. By the time their hour was up, Patrick was sore—not just in the shoulder area, but a couple of other places too—and he wasn’t making a big secret about it either.
“Oh, quit whining,” she finally snapped. “Patrick, honestly, I have eleven-year-old patients who complain less than you do.”
He pouted. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been favoring the shoulder by punishing other parts of his body. The tension he’d been feeling for a month now was starting to ebb, though, more than making up for the rest of it. “But I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he complained, wiping his face with the towel. He gave Roz a smile to show that there were no hard feelings. This was why he’d had to bring her flowers. And chocolate.
“You haven’t been, have you?” Roz asked. “Because Julian would absolutely flip, and honestly, I think one freak-out per visit is enough.”
“Funny,” Patrick told her. He didn’t laugh. He agreed with her on the one-freak-out quota, though. “I am old enough to know to look both ways before I cross the street.” He eyed the spa longingly. “Mind if I soak for a few?”
Roz shrugged. “Hey, my hot tub is your hot tub. Figuratively speaking. It’ll be good for you. Just remember to keep hydrated. I’ve got to—”
Patrick remembered about her supervision duties just as she was approached by a little girl with twin brown pigtails and dark brown eyes. By that time, he was already waist-deep in blissfully hot water. “Hi, Miss Roz!”
Cute kid, Patrick thought, easing back against the wall. His shoulder was mostly above the waterline, but the jets felt great against his back.
“Hi, Hallie,” Roz said. “Did you have a good lesson?”
Hallie nodded. “We practiced diving,” she said proudly. “I’m going to be a diver when I grow up.” She looked at Patrick. “Miss Roz, is that your boyfriend?”
Roz covered a laugh—badly. “No, sweetie, I don’t have a boyfriend. This is my friend Patrick. He’s a police officer.”
Patrick waved hello with his good hand. “Nice to meet you, Hallie.”
The little girl walked over to shake his hand. Mercifully, she took the left one. “Officer Patrick, is there something wrong with your arm?”
Observant too. Roz shot him an unnecessary warning look. Patrick wasn’t about to traumatize the kid with the whole sordid story. “Yes, there is. I hurt it while I was working. Miss Roz is helping me get better.”
“Miss Roz is good at everything,” Hallie said matter-of-factly. “What’s that?” She was pointing to one of his tattoos.
“That’s my grandmother,” Patrick told her. “I miss her very much.”
“Is she an angel? She’s very pretty.”
Roz looked like she was ready to intervene and save Patrick from the sudden onslaught of personal questions, but Patrick shook his head minutely. “I like to think so,” he said. “You’re a very smart little girl. Has Miss Roz been teaching you how to ask the tough questions?”
“Oh, no,” Roz protested. “That’s all Hallie.” It was easy to see why she was so popular with, well, everyone. “You’d better get rinsed off and changed, kiddo. Your ride will be here soon. Or he will be, if he knows what’s good for him.”
Hallie scampered off, and Roz was left with a few others casually observing the kids who’d already changed. Parents started dropping in one by one, and then in twos. Patrick ignored them almost subconsciously, lounging in the delicious hot water. When his eyelids started drooping, though, he pulled himself out of the tub and grabbed his towel. Time to head home—temporary home, anyway. Besides, he was starting to go pruny. Patrick dripped over to the men’s dressing room to rinse off the chlorine.
The kids from the swimming lesson had all changed already, and the showers were screened off by curtains anyway, so he wouldn’t be scandalizing anybody. Patrick peeled the swimming trunks off and tossed them into a corner. He let the lukewarm water rinse the chemicals away.
Damn, he was tired. He couldn’t believe a little exercise had taken so much out of him. He was normally in great shape. Besides, he’d slept well the night before for the first time in a month. One would think he’d have a little more stamina than this.
Maybe he had been burning out, as Justine had feared. Nap time was looking better and better by the minute. Maybe he could con Roz into giving him a ride back to Julian’s.
“Patrick?” Another man’s voice echoed off the tile walls. “Are you in here?”
“Yeah,” he called back, trying to scrub some of the chlorine from his hair. Damn, he was definitely bringing soap and shampoo next time. And a bigger towel.
There was a sloshy, suctiony-type sound. He assumed the other man had picked up his discarded bathing suit. “Are you naked?”
The tone was decidedly suspicious. Patrick grinned. “Depends! Who wants to know?”
“That means yes.” He heard Jack sigh, followed by a wet, schlupping noise as the swimming trunks vacuum-sealed themselves back to the
floor. “Roz sent me down with your clothes and sling.”
“Thanks.” Patrick shut the water off and wiped the stray droplets from his face with his good arm before pushing the flimsy shower curtain aside. “Pass me that towel, will you?”
Jack rolled his eyes, but handed the towel over.
Jack surprised him by seeming more interested in the tattoo on his arm than anything else. Most gay men who saw Patrick naked didn’t check out the tattoo until much later. Then again, most gay men who saw Patrick naked weren’t in a committed relationship with his ex-boyfriend.
“How’d it go today?” Jack asked casually, sitting back on a bench.
Patrick shrugged, roughly drying his face and hair, and then wrapping the towel around his waist while he sorted out the rest of his clothes. “Don’t know yet. Julian took some X-rays, which I’ll find out about when I get home, and a blood sample to be cultured, which we won’t find out about for a week or so, and changed my prescription. Roz put me to work moving my shoulder. It hurts.”
“You don’t say,” Jack drawled. “Wonder why.”
“Because she is a cruel, cruel woman who pushed me until I could be pushed no further?”
“Or it could be because you walked into a bullet,” Jack said, annoyingly chipper. “Come on, hurry up, I have to have Hallie home in time for dinner.”
Patrick looked up from stepping back into his jeans. “Pigtails? You know her?”
“I’m her ride. She’s our neighbor,” Jack explained. “Her parents split up when she was two, and her mother doesn’t have visitation rights. She’s her daddy’s world, but in order to see her off to school in the mornings he has to work the day shift, so he doesn’t get home until after five. I have to pass by this way most days, anyway.” He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. “Besides, she’s adorable.”
“Can’t argue there.” Patrick pulled on his shirt, retrieved the towel and swimsuit, and headed for the door.
Roz and Hallie were the only two left in the pool room. “There you are,” Roz said. “I was starting to worry.”
Patrick and Jack rolled their eyes in tandem. “Got your backpack?” Jack asked Hallie.
She nodded and went to retrieve it from behind a chair. Jack looked at Patrick. “What about you, champ? You got everything?”
“Yeah.” He saluted Roz with the bathing suit and towel.
“No,” Roz corrected, handing Jack a printed sheet. “These are the exercises he’s supposed to do. Don’t feed him until he does them.”
Patrick glowered.
Roz beamed, wrapping Jack in a hug and kissing his cheek. “Good boy. See you later!”
Hallie must have misinterpreted the expression on Patrick’s face, because she said, in a very loud whisper, “Don’t worry, Officer Patrick. They’re not getting married.”
Twitching, Patrick gave her a smile. “Well, that’s a relief.”
Roz hid a smirk and shooed them out the door.
“Race you to the truck!” Hallie challenged, which Patrick thought was a bit unfair, since he had no idea which one it was. He followed close on her heels the whole way. “I win!”
“You cheated.”
“Children!” Jack interrupted, voice lacking in rancor. “Some of us have to be home in time for dinner, or we get very grouchy.”
Hallie climbed up into the backseat, and Patrick walked around to the other side. The temperature had dropped a few degrees since his walk earlier. He was glad he had someone to give him a ride home.
Patrick was all set to lean back and close his eyes for the ride home when his phone started jingling in his pocket.
Jack looked over, eyebrows raised. “Is that what I think it is?”
“If you don’t love Indiana Jones, I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends.” Patrick flicked the phone on. “Hawkins.”
“Patrick?”
The voice was tentative. Now, who wouldn’t be sure it was him when he answered? Ah. “Brad. I hope you have some good news for me.”
“I guess that depends on whether you like food.”
“I’m more interested in the company,” Patrick said lightly, leaning back in his seat. “But, yeah. I like food. What did you have in mind?”
“Hey, you asked me. The details are up to you. I just called to say I’m available Thursday. Does that work for you?”
Patrick grinned. “Oddly enough, my schedule is clear on Thursday. Is this the best number to reach you?”
Brad rattled off his home number too, and Patrick dug a ballpoint pen from the armrest of Jack’s truck and scribbled it on his hand. Jack was casting occasional glances over at him, clearly intrigued.
Patrick capped the pen. “Okay,” he said, stashing the pen back in the armrest. “I’ll call you with details tomorrow. Sound good?”
“Sure. Listen, I’ve got to go get ready for work.” Brad paused, sounding nervous. “You could stop by if you like?”
That is kind of adorable, Patrick thought, smothering a yawn. “Sorry. That in no way reflects upon you. Roz worked me pretty hard in physio today. I can barely keep my eyes open. Rain check? I could stop by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s my day off,” Brad said. “That’s all right. I’ll see you Thursday.”
“See you then.” Patrick closed the phone—and his eyes.
In the backseat, Hallie was giggling. “What?” he asked, deadpan.
“Was that your girlfriend?”
Oh, boy. Patrick opened his eyes just enough to read Jack’s expression. He was smirking. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said.
“Oh.” Hallie thought about that for a moment. “So it was your boyfriend?”
Jeez! Does this kid take after Roz, or what!? Patrick coughed. “Uh, no. Just a friend.” He must be tired if a nine-year-old could surprise him like that.
“But you like boys, right?” she persisted.
Jack looked like he was about ready to explode any minute from holding in his laughter. If he put her up to this, he is going to pay. “Yes.”
Weren’t they home yet? The longer they were in the truck, the more potential there was for awkward questions from the G-rated peanut gallery. Talk about uncomfortable.
Luckily—or unluckily—Jack took over. “Who was it?”
“What?”
“Your not-boyfriend. Who else?”
Oh, boy. Here we go. “Brad.”
“Brad who?”
Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. Your bartender.”
Jack pulled into his driveway. “Wilde? Brad Wilde?”
“I guess.”
Jack hopped out of the truck, shaking his head. Patrick followed him, curious. Was there something wrong with the guy or something? “You have a date with Bradley Wilde.”
“Yes? Is there a problem? Oh, God, he’s not Julian’s ex-boyfriend or something, is he?” That would be just perfect. Typical Patrick move. He should’ve done an ex-lover clearance first. Crap.
Jack snorted. “No. I just thought he was straight.”
“Seriously?” Patrick blinked, and then grinned. “Oh, well. Not for long, if I have anything to say about it.” He helped Hallie down from the cab. “There you are, little lady.”
“Thank you, Officer Patrick.” She waved good-bye and then hoisted her backpack and crossed the street into her father’s waiting arms.
Patrick and Jack both waved and then made their way into the house.
Damn. Julian must have been home for a while already, because delicious aromas were floating around the kitchen like nobody’s business. He’d forgotten what it was like to come home to Julian in his kitchen.
“We’re back,” Jack called, toeing off his shoes. He inhaled deeply. “That smells fantastic.”
Julian wandered in, hair sticking up in funny places, a ratty old T-shirt clinging to his chest for dear life. He looked good enough to eat. “Veal Parmesan,” he said easily.
“Yum.” Apparently Jack agreed with Patrick, because while Patrick was busy trying to wiggle ou
t of his shoes, Jack scooped Julian up in a kiss that was nowhere near G-rated.
By the time he finally managed to free himself and stand up straight again, both Jack and Julian were done groping each other and were looking at him. “What?”
Julian stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Patrick’s T-shirt, reaching up to cover his mouth in a very hot, Parmesan-flavored kiss. “Mmph!” Patrick managed. Then, figuring he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he leaned into it, letting Julian explore his mouth with his tongue.
After a few seconds, the other man backed away, smirking just slightly. Under that, though, there was a definite warning. Jack was watching them both, a mild expression on his face, but his eyes were dark. “If you’re quite finished? I think the noodles are done.”
Okay, Patrick thought, shivering a little. That kiss had been the exact reverse of the kiss he’d laid on Julian at the office. The message was clear: there were no secrets in this house. At least not between Jack and Julian. “Great,” he said, “I’m starving.”
He brushed past Jack on the way to the kitchen, shivering again. He couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they could all keep this up before the tension exploded—and when it did, there was no telling what might happen.
Julian smiled as Jack came back from the attached bathroom with a warm, damp cloth in his hand. He gave a soft moan as his lover wiped him clean. He was floating on a post-orgasmic high. The kiss that he had given Patrick in the hallway had made Jack quite vigorous in the bedroom. Julian was starting to think he would have to kiss Patrick more often if this was going to be the result. He felt absolutely relaxed and boneless.
“Well, you look happy.” Jack smiled at him as he crawled back into the bed.
“I am happy.” Julian ran his hand along Jack’s cheek with a slow smile. He pulled his lover close and gave him a soft kiss. He was about to roll himself into Jack’s arms when he realized that Jack was leaning over the edge of the bed. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Something fell on the floor when I tossed you on the bed. I just wanted to see what it was.” Julian goosed him as he leaned over the edge of the large bed. Jack growled but continued with his search for the elusive object. After a few moments of reaching, he crawled back onto the bed with an envelope in his hand. “Hey, it has your name on it.”
Wild Angels Page 5
