Trust with a Chaser (Rainbow Cove Book 1)

by Annabeth Albert

  “I’m okay with offering a leather night later in the summer.” Logan shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind seeing who turned out for that. And I don’t have a thing for the woodcarver guy. Not remotely interested. I was just looking to see if there was any reason to…socialize.”

  “Hey,” I protested. “I thought we agreed no picking up customers.”

  Adam snorted. “You didn’t really expect that to hold, did you?”

  “This is not a hookup joint, not for us, anyway. We need to be professionals.” I took the bar towel from Adam, started wiping down the glossy surface. Before we’d opened, we’d talked about this—we didn’t want a reputation for hitting on customers, and I’d worked at enough places to know that the line between friendly and uncomfortable could get blurry in a hurry.

  “Says the guy who keeps taking his breaks with Sheriff Sexy—”

  “You’re lucky you’re sick.” I waved the towel at him. “And stop calling Flint that.”

  “Okay, enough already.” Logan got between us, his tolerance for our brotherly bickering low as always. “You ready, Adam?”

  The two of them helped me get the last of the glassware through the dishwasher, and then they were gone, leaving me to open a few more beers for the stragglers and start the process of wiping down the tables and chairs. By midnight, when I flipped the sign to closed, we’d been empty awhile.

  I made fast work of the remaining cleaning, and then took the trash out to the dumpster behind the building. The sound of footsteps cut across the still June evening, and my spine went rigid.

  “Big night?” Turning at the sound of Flint’s voice, my arm jerked, and I whopped myself in the face with an armful of cardboard.

  “What the heck are you doing?” I asked.

  An ancient truck was parked next to my car. Should have noticed that sooner—my lack of attention had me frustrated at myself and shoving the cardboard into the dumpster with jerky movements.

  “Sorry.” He stepped closer. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I just happened to be in the area, saw that you were the only car in the lot, and wanted to make sure there wasn’t any…hassle over your night.”

  “Didn’t scare me,” I lied. “And happened to be in the area?” I looked him over—jeans, long-sleeved polo shirt, no uniform, and no official car.

  “Remembered that I needed gas in the truck.” He nodded like that wasn’t the thinnest excuse in the world.

  “You weren’t on duty tonight, were you?”

  He shook his head. It might have been a trick of the dim lighting, but I swore I saw shadows of regret in his eyes.

  “You were going to come. I’d put money on it. You actually thought about it.”

  Flint leaned against my car. “I think about all sorts of bad ideas. Did it go well?”

  “Okay crowd. Very little dancing or mingling between groups. But don’t try to change the subject. You were going to come, but you chickened out, and I want to know why.”

  “I don’t chicken out of crap.” Flint drew himself up to his full height and loomed over me.

  I, however, refused to be cowed and poked at his chest. “You did this time. Did you even eat? I can rustle you up something.”

  “I ate.” Flint’s shifty look said it had been something microwaved and barely worth the price of its plastic container. “Probably shouldn’t come in so much, anyway. People are going to start talking—”

  “And why do you give a fuck? You’re chief of police—small-minded gossip isn’t supposed to faze a man like you.”

  “Man like me.” Flint shook his head. “Why is the world always trying to tell me what sort of man to be? That was always my dad’s thing—‘a man does this’ and ‘a real man does that’ all day. He thought it was his job to teach us how to be like him—better, even.”

  The more I learned, the more I was starting to hate Flint’s father. “You can be a man and be gay or bisexual or pan or anything else. You know that, right? The ‘real man’ stuff is nonsense. You’re one of the most masculine guys I’ve ever met. You could wear a pink Pride T-shirt everyday, and nothing would change that.”

  Flint shook his head. “You know what happens when you’re a guy like me and you come out? You become an oddity, a footnote, and people can’t talk about you without the label. You think I haven’t watched what’s happened with the out mayors in the state? ‘The first openly gay…’ Never hear them say the mayor or representative’s name without also mentioning that they’re gay or bisexual or trans—that label gets all the headlines. I’d forever be ‘the gay police chief’ and I don’t want that.”

  “But you’ve thought about doing it? Coming out, I mean.”

  “Hell, yes. You think…” Flint made a frustrated noise. “Fuck. I have no idea why I’m telling you all this. You’re—”

  “You say a Hanks and I’ll deck you, officer of the law or not.”

  “Trouble. I was going to say trouble.” Flint took a step forward, backing me against the wall. His movements were deliberate, giving me plenty of time to push him away as he slowly lowered his head.

  But I wasn’t going anywhere, my hands fisting in the cotton of his shirt as he crowded into me. Proving Flint’s point about being trouble, I ran headlong toward his kiss, meeting him eagerly when our mouths finally connected.

  He kissed like he ate—a starving man who didn’t know when he’d next get hot food or a chance to enjoy a meal. There was a fair bit of wonder and surprise in our connection, too—as if he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much, like he was surprised to find himself devouring what was in front of him. And he absolutely made a buffet out of my mouth, nibbling and teasing until I opened up, allowing him to feast in earnest.

  I wasn’t usually a passive kisser, but with Flint I found myself hanging on for dear life and letting him have his way. I wanted to see where he’d go with the freedom. He growled, pushing me more firmly against the building, but he didn’t break the kiss. His chest was firm against mine, a solid wall of muscle trapping my hands between us, and his groin pressed against my aching dick. Not rocking, not grinding, just there, and fuck, I needed more of it.

  “Flint,” I sighed against his mouth as he pulled back slightly. “More.”

  “Nash,” he corrected me. “This is insanity.”

  “But it feels so good.” I yanked him closer for another kiss. Nash. It suited him more than Flint in this moment—Flint was hard, unemotional, and buttoned up tight. Nash was a powder keg waiting to go off. Nash had soft lips and hard muscles and possessive little growls that made my insides quake and my dick throb. Freeing my hands from between us, I pulled his shirt loose and snaked one hand up to stroke his back. He responded like I’d hoped, nipping at my mouth before deepening the kiss, tongue thrusting against mine in an insistent rhythm.

  Gravel skittered as a car pulled out down the alley, but it was enough to make Flint—Nash—step back, breathing hard.

  “Come home with me,” I said before he could say anything. “Let me lock up, and then come home with me.”

  “Can’t.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You live a block away. Park at home if you’re worried about gossips. But come over.”

  “This…that…” He waved his hand in the general direction of my mouth. “Can’t happen. Ever. That was a mistake. An accident.”

  “What? Like we tripped and ended up with your tongue halfway down my throat? That kind of accident?”

  “I didn’t mean to…” Nash sighed then straightened. “You’re right. I need to own my actions—it wasn’t an accident, but it can’t happen again.”

  “Why not? We’re both consenting adults. I’m not asking you to fly a Pride flag at City Hall. This would be just for tonight.” I had as many reasons as he did to not want a relationship or something serious, but my body wasn’t shy about letting me know how much it craved Nash Flint. I needed more of those kisses in the worst way.

  “I’m not sure once would be enough.” Nash’s bit
of honesty made me laugh, made me like him that much more, damn it.

  “I’m willing to try.” I grinned at him.

  Gravel crunched under tires again, closer this time, and Flint shook his head. “Early morning tomorrow, anyway. You take care getting home, you hear?”

  “Nash,” I called after him as walked toward his truck. He didn’t turn. “Flint. You can’t just pretend that didn’t just happen.”

  He didn’t answer. Fucker probably planned to do exactly that—pretend. Pissed, I kicked at the dumpster, which made a satisfying loud rattle as Nash—Flint—pulled away. He might be able to act like nothing had happened, but I sure as hell wasn’t forgetting what he’d felt like pressed up against me anytime soon.

  Nine

  Nash

  Sunday evening I was on call, restless as hell, distracted, and hungry as I rode around town. A spectacular sunset was threatening over the coast as I drove the shoreline roads, checking for unauthorized fires and double-parked cars by the beach access trails. Down at the rocky coast, families were catching the last of the sun, laying out dinner picnics while the ocean lapped at the giant boulders that littered the shore. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the food. Microwave meals just didn’t cut it for me, and I was out of food in any case, the contents of my fridge little more than tumbleweeds. I needed—

  Mason.

  Okay, okay, I lied. Hunger took a back seat to distraction and the memory of that searing kiss. I wanted the tavern’s food, yes, but I wanted to see Mason more, and that… Well, I was Nash Flint. I didn’t get scared or spooked. Didn’t do rattled or unsure. And yet, I was all those things. Which meant that I was torn between avoiding discomfort, pretending I wasn’t still reeling from Mason’s kiss, and marching into the tavern, facing the issue head-on, same as I did everything else.

  I turned back from the coast, heading through downtown, which of course took me right by the tavern, temptation beckoning just as surely as their neon open sign. I drove on by, reminding myself that they closed earlier on Sundays. Only another couple of hours to outrun the temptation that was Mason.

  What had I been thinking with that kiss? And it had absolutely been on me—he was right that it was no accident and I couldn’t claim that he’d made the first move. No, I’d lost my freaking head and pushed him up against that wall because one second I’d been so damn angry at my father, at the world, and the next I’d had to kiss Mason or fall into a pit of that anger.

  But now I had to rejoin the real world, the one where I couldn’t keep kissing Mason and had to stop fantasizing about what would have happened had I taken him up on his offer to go home with him. And, in the real world, I had to eat. Food would help. I headed up Lakeview. Marta was right—Rowdy’s did a decent burger, and I hadn’t given them business in far too long.

  With lower prices on food and plentiful drink specials, Rowdy’s catered to a rougher, more local crowd than the tavern. The parking lot was full for a Sunday, and I had to park the Jeep on the far edge of the gravel lot. As I walked toward the door, a group of young men came barreling out of the place, pushing and shoving. Slowing my steps, I hung back, waiting to see what they were about.

  “Motherfucker! You lost the bet. Pay up.” Jimmy Hanks poked at the shoulder of Chester Fremont—those two had been trouble together since their teens. Supposedly friends, but you’d never know it from how often they tangled.

  “That wasn’t a clean throw. You can’t play darts to save your ass, Hanks.” Chester gave a hard shove in return. “You’re as big a pansy as that brother of yours.”

  “I’ve had about enough of your mouth.” Jimmy’s arm drew back, and I was more than half tempted to let him cold-cock Chester for daring to drag Mason into their fight.

  But I was an officer of the law, not Mason’s personal champion, so I did the right thing and strode over to them. “What’s going on here?”

  “Ain’t none of your business, Flint.” Chester sneered.

  “Oh? You boys aren’t thinking of fighting in this parking lot?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” Jimmy dropped his hand. “Chester and me were just talking, that’s all.”

  “And if I walk on by, no one’s going to end up bloody?” I let my skepticism come out in my tone.

  “Nope. We’re all friends here.” Jimmy glared at me.

  “Good. Speaking of friends, I’ve been meaning to talk to you two. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the recent vandalism we’ve had downtown, would you? Got any friends I should be talking to?”

  “You think I’m your personal snitch now?” Jimmy looked me up and down, shaking his head. “Get real.”

  “You trying to imply something?” Chester stepped forward, and now, instead of fighting each other, the two were united in their ire towards me. “I don’t know nothing. And even if I’d heard, not like I’d share.”

  “I’m just keeping an eye out,” I said mildly. “But it’s getting expensive for the businesses in question. Hate to see more jobs leave town.”

  Chester spat on the ground. “Fuck, a few pranks aren’t what’s scaring away jobs, Flint. You ain’t that stupid, man. The jobs are gone for good.”

  “Maybe not.” Couldn’t help but think about the ideas Mason and his buddies had for attracting new business to town. It surprised me how much stock I was beginning to put into the concept. But, man, it would be nice to have resort jobs for guys like Chester again, keep him out of trouble.

  “You’re as delusional as my brother,” Jimmy scoffed at me. “This town’s always been a shit hole. A bunch of rainbow flags ain’t gonna change crap around here.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s got people pranking.” Chester shrugged, voicing the same worry that I’d had since the Chamber of Commerce meeting. A prickle raced up my back.

  “Well, you hear anything, you let me know.” I gave them both stern looks. Way I figured it, the culprits were probably bored teens, but that didn’t mean that these two overgrown lug nuts and their posse didn’t know something. “And I mean it on no fighting.”

  They both mumbled something uncharitable under their breath, and then they meandered toward their cars. I glanced at the front door of Rowdy’s. My desire to go in there had fled. I didn’t belong here, out with the Hanks and Fremonts and the rough-housing, dart-throwing, fight-starting crowd. Waiting for Jimmy and Chester to pull out, I walked slowly back to my Jeep.

  On my way back to town, I pulled into Hauser’s, our local grocery store. No chains in Rainbow Cove, not yet, anyway.

  “Evening, Chief.” Old Melvin had worked at Hauser’s long as I’d been alive. “We got in some more of those meals you like,” he said. “The new ones with higher fiber. They’re back in the freezer section.”

  Yes, sir, I surely did love living in this town where everyone knew my business, right down to the fact that I was dining alone again on a meal targeted to weight-conscious older women. Mason might want to tell me how nothing would change if I came out, but it was a lie. God, just the thought of everyone all up in my personal life gave me goosebumps.

  I grabbed my frozen meals and some bottled iced tea and headed back to the station, planning to restock the ancient freezer in the rear of the office and tackle some paperwork waiting to keep me and my nuked meal company. As I passed the tavern, I tried not to slow down, but my car had other ideas. Mason was out front, washing off the specials board, biceps rippling as he worked. It would be so easy to turn into the tavern’s lot, let him feed me. Heck, we’d be doing each other favors—business was probably slow again, and he was far better company than a stack of traffic reports. But then I remembered Jimmy’s bullishness and Melvin’s nosiness and who exactly I was and what I couldn’t have. I drove on, hating the way my chest went tight and my hands clenched around the steering wheel.

  Mason

  Wednesday lunch rush came and went without Flint stopping by, which meant it had been four days since our kiss and four days since he’d done more than drive
by our place. And, oh yes, I had most certainly noticed the drive-bys. I never would have thought of Nash Flint as a coward, but here we were.

  “So, I just had a weird phone call.” Adam walked into the kitchen where I was helping Logan with dishes. “Sheriff Sexy wants to know if we can do takeout. Says the old tavern used to run him food when he couldn’t leave the office.”

  Yup, just as I’d figured. A huge coward. But I wasn’t fessing up to the kiss with Adam and Logan, so I just nodded. “You told him yes?”

  “Knew you’d do it.” Adam rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, I told him not to spread it around, but I said we’d get something over to him.”

  “His usual?” Logan was already at the grill, grabbing meat patties.

  “Yeah. I told him I’d run it over since we’re slow, but something tells me I’m gonna be staying right here.”

  “You figured right,” I gritted out. Flint was too much of a coward to come see me? I sure as hell wasn’t going to make this easy on him. It was a kiss, not a broken engagement. Flint needed a swift dose of reality.

  “I am so glad that man isn’t my type.” Adam leaned against the metal worktable. “Sexy as hell, but he’s going to make you go gray, Mase.”

  “I’m not hung up on him,” I lied, busying myself by readying a to-go container for Flint’s usual side salad.

  “Dude. If you were a deer, you’d be up on a roof rack, shit out of luck. That kind of hung up.”

  “You guys are going to make me burn the burger.” Logan waved a spatula at us.

  “He started it,” Adam and I both said at the same time then burst out laughing. Even with two decades of friendship, some things never changed. Still laughing, I put together the rest of Flint’s order while Logan finished the burger then packed everything up. The sun was shining with a nice breeze off the coast, so I walked the half a block or so to City Hall.

  The police station was an annex off the back of the building, but, during the business day, they shared a receptionist with City Hall, a fresh-faced young woman named Tammy who did everything from collecting water bills and parking fines to sign-ups for the city rec soccer league. And apparently one of her jobs involved banging on the wall behind her desk to let Flint know he was needed at the front.