First Impressions

by Jay Hogan

  “No kidding. And Sasha?”

  Josh shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess. Her teacher says things have settled at school, so that’s something, right?”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  The server returned and set two new beers on the table.

  Mark tapped the guy’s wrist. “What time you done, gorgeous?”

  The guy smiled. “An hour, maybe less.”

  Josh shook his head. “What a shame. We have to leave, right, Mark?”

  The detective fired him a sizzling glare and nudged his boot into Josh’s shin, again.

  “Ow.” He stifled a laugh. “Just saying.”

  Mark glared. “Button it, friend.”

  Josh made a zip motion across his lips and took a slug of beer.

  “Fancy a dance after?” Mark asked the server.

  The guy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He stuck out his hand. “Bryce.”

  Mark shook it. “Mark. So, Bryce, how about you come find me when you’re done, and we’ll have that dance?”

  The blond flashed the detective a stellar smile. “Looking forward to it.”

  He left, and Mark craned his neck to watch the guy’s arse every step of the way.

  “Wow.” Josh chuckled. “Look at you, all smitten kitten, detective.”

  Mark scowled. “Shut up. He seems a nice guy, a gorgeous, nice, available guy with a very fuckable arse. Back to Sasha.”

  Josh closed his eyes and sighed. “She seems fine. She does all her usual stuff, finishes her chores, plays her games but… she just seems… flat, if you know what I mean. And she won’t talk to me.”

  “Can’t be great hearing your dad trash-talked by your grandparents.”

  Josh pulled a face. “I guess. It’s just so damn frustrating, and I hate that she’s pulling away, at least that’s what it feels like.” He sensed Mark’s hesitation. “Go on, spit it out.”

  Mark placed a hand over Josh’s and squeezed gently before letting go. “You think she’s missing him. Michael, I mean?”

  Josh had already thought of that. “Maybe. She won’t talk about it, so I don’t know for sure, but the fact that she won’t talk about it….”

  “Yeah,” Mark agreed.

  Josh twirled his bottle in his hand. “She’s mad at me, and I get it. She thinks I lied about Michael, and she’s right, in a way. I probably should have told her he was a bit more than a friend, but I didn’t want to confuse her. Bad enough her dad’s gay—”

  “Hey! There’s nothing about being gay that makes you any less of a great dad.”

  “Maybe not, but it doesn’t exactly make it any easier for her growing up and wanting to fit in, does it?”

  Mark pursed his lips. “Maybe not, but fitting in can be highly overrated.”

  Josh snorted. “Not when you’re an eleven-year-old girl.”

  “Okay.” Mark threw up his hands. “Look, I don’t pretend to understand the difficulties of being a gay dad, with a teenager. But did you consider maybe her mood’s nothing to do with her being pissed about you guys sleeping together and just that she misses him, kind of like you obviously miss him?”

  The detective’s look was pointed, to say the least.

  “I don’t miss him,” he argued. “At least not like you’re implying.” Liar. “The sex, maybe the company.”

  Mark nodded sagely. “Yeah, right. Because we all know you’re such a shallow man whore.”

  “Whatever.” Josh shifted his gaze to the dance floor. “My point is, this is exactly what I was afraid would happen, why I shouldn’t have ever started anything with him.”

  Mark ignored him. “You realise this whole thing has screwed up our fast-pitch team. He’s pulled out, you know that, right?”

  Josh frowned. No, he hadn’t. Fuck.

  Mark barely broke breath. “And, hello, you’re a grown man. You’re allowed to have a life. You don’t have to be a monk until she’s eighteen.”

  “I know, believe me I know. But I do need to keep it real, for Sasha’s sake. No more inappropriate relationships, none of this ‘friends with benefits’ shit, or guys who don’t even live in the damn country. I have to set a responsible example. Sasha understands dating, but she’s too young to be exposed to… other things.”

  Mark rolled his eyes and tapped his coaster on the table irritably. “Oh right, responsible dating, as in the ‘hamster’—what’s his name?—from the exercise. I’d heard he called you.”

  Josh bristled. “His name’s Brent. And I didn’t go out with him. But so what if I had? There was nothing wrong with him. He just wasn’t….”

  “Michael. That’s what he wasn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with him that a fucking personality transplant wouldn’t solve. I know the guy, Josh. He makes grey look an interesting colour.”

  Josh glared. The comment was way out of line.

  Mark winced. “Sorry. And yes, he’s a nice guy. And no, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

  “Damn right.”

  “He’s just not right… for you. Come on, Josh, even you have to admit, the guy’s boring as a paperclip.”

  “He’s not. He’s just… quiet. Not everyone has to fuck a new guy every week to be fun, you know?”

  Mark flinched. “Ouch. Touché.”

  But Josh was on a roll. “At least chances are he wouldn’t run like a fucking rabbit at the first hint of trouble. There’s a lot to be said for a bit of damn staying power.” Shit.

  “I thought you didn’t care about the sexy doc in that way.” Mark eyed him pointedly.

  Josh closed his eyes for a second to calm his heartbeat.

  “Does he know that you… maybe way more than just like him?” Mark asked quietly.

  Josh pinned his friend with a defiant stare. “No. But Jesus Christ. I’ve only known him a month, and at the first sign of any relationship shit, he flew the coop. Ugh.” He dropped his head, took a few deep breaths, then sat back.

  Mark covered Josh’s hand with his own. “You deserve the best, Josh. I just want you to be happy. You’re the most passionate, deserving guy I know, a wonderful dad, and you’d make a great partner.”

  Josh sneered. “Yeah, right. I’m so everything that my last serious partner, who I was about to ask to marry me by the way….” He caught Mark’s shocked expression. “Yeah, didn’t know that part, did you? Had the ring and everything. Well, anyway, that guy cheated on me the entire time we were together because clearly I wasn’t everything enough for him… more specifically, in bed.”

  This time Mark stood, almost taking both their beers with him in the process. “That’s it. I’m done with this bullshit. Get up.”

  Josh startled. “What?”

  “I said get up. We’re dancing.”

  Josh slouched lower in his seat and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t wanna dance. I did warn you I wasn’t in the mood.”

  Mark glared at him. “I don’t fucking care what you want, Josh. You’re coming on that dance floor with me right this minute, so guys can hit on you and grind thick hard cocks into you, so you can see what a hot piece of shit you really are. I didn’t pry you out of those sorry-arse daddy pants and pour you into that pair of tight fuck-me jeans for nothing. Now dance with your best friend.” He stood there with his hand out to Josh. “Please.”

  Josh hesitated, then sighed. As much as he didn’t feel in the mood, Mark was only trying to help. He took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up. “Fucking bossy bastard,” he grumbled.

  Mark grinned widely. “Damn right. Now get moving.”

  The dance floor was heaving, but his friend pushed his way through the grinding throng to the middle, dragging Josh behind. Finding a few inches to move in, he spun Josh around, plastered Josh’s back to his front, and started swaying. After a minute or two, Josh found himself relaxing to the rhythm and even, damn it, enjoying it. The sensory overload churning up from the dance floor left little room in his head for those endless conversations he’d been having with him
self. He turned his head to yell in Mark’s ear. “If that dick of yours slides any farther up my butt I’m gonna arrest you for sexual assault.”

  Mark laughed. “I wish I could say it was standing to attention for you, but truth is, Bryce is eyeing me from the bar. Told you. I’m in there, sugar.”

  Josh chuckled. “Whatever. In the meantime, just watch yourself back there, mister, or it could be the end of a beautiful friendship.”

  Mark answered with a brief kiss to Josh’s neck and kept them moving. Josh closed his eyes and left his body to the man’s guiding hands. It felt good, really good to just let loose and get lost in the rhythm and the sensual sway of bodies on the floor. He hadn’t danced since Jason left, and Mark had been right, he’d needed this. Maybe he was right about Michael too. Maybe Josh should have told him how he felt. And just maybe it wasn’t too late.

  A few songs in and the cute server bounced excitedly alongside looking flushed and hopeful. Josh nodded to Mark. “Go for it. I’ll get a taxi.”

  “You sure?” Mark looked a little guilty.

  Josh grinned. “Absolutely.” He watched them dance off to the side until a familiar face on the other side of the floor caught his attention. Michael Oliver, dancing hot and heavy with a gorgeous young man. The guy’s hands were all over Michael, his tongue halfway down his fucking throat. Then, as Josh watched, the younger man grabbed Michael’s hand and hauled him in the direction of the bathrooms.

  Bile welled in the back of Josh’s throat and his knees buckled. Fuck. So much for maybe taking a chance and telling the doctor how he felt. Michael fucking Oliver appeared to be a long way shy of missing Josh. Goddammit. Josh grabbed his jacket and sprinted for the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAM JABBED a finger in Michael’s chest, forcing him to step back. “Listen up, arsehole,” the nurse growled, sapphire liner flashing. “I’m having enough trouble keeping my own staff from nailing your ass to the wall without getting a complaint from radiology that you swore at their receptionist for not answering her damn phone quick enough, on a busy Saturday no less. As if I don’t have enough legitimate crises needing my goddamn attention, I’ve got to add the indulgent hissy fit of one pouting doctor. Inviting you out to get laid last Friday was supposed to deal with this filthy mood of yours, and yet—here we are.”

  The nurse had called Michael into his office and closed the door, so the dressing-down hadn’t exactly come as a surprise. But his friend’s overwhelming frustration with Michael had, not that Michael didn’t deserve it.

  His face heated. “Yeah, well, maybe that didn’t quite go to plan.” Michael pushed the charge nurse’s hand away and slid his gaze from that too-clever scrutiny.

  Cam’s eyes popped. “Are you saying you tanked that night? Doctor Sexy drew a blank?”

  Michael rolled his eyes but said nothing. He didn’t care what the other man thought. He was still getting his head around having zero interest in pursuing anyone but Josh. He’d allowed the young guy to lead Michael to the back of the club, to a quiet corner near the emergency exit. And there it was. Fucking déjà vu. Almost the exact spot he’d first laid eyes on Josh.

  The man had been gorgeous, but Michael couldn’t ignore the churning in his gut, and his barely interested cock, which had apparently decided anyone other than Josh wasn’t worth the effort. He’d stopped everything in its tracks, apologised, and headed home. So yeah, he hadn’t been laid in three weeks and counting, a fucking goddamn record.

  Cam snorted. “Well, well. I’d seen you eyeing that blond at the bar and just figured….”

  Michael’s gaze flicked to the wall, the calendar seeming to require his immediate attention. That is until Cam stepped between, forcing them to lock eyes again. He stared at Michael with unwavering attention until a grin split his face.

  “Well, fuck me,” the nurse said with a smile. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “Asshole.” Michael walked to the bookshelf on the other side of the office and started absently rifling through its contents.

  Cam was hot on his heels. “Did you get any action?” he pushed. “And quit moving my stuff around.” He slapped Michael’s hands.

  Michael snarled, “It’s none of your goddamn business.” He sidestepped the nurse and headed for the door, pausing only when he heard the man’s low whistle. Fuck. He turned, and Cam walked straight up to him, cupping Michael’s cheek with his hand.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

  And Michael was left to figure out if Cam was sorry about Josh, or sorry Michael hadn’t got laid, or just sorry for interfering. Not that it mattered, as the lingering heat from his hand on Michael’s cheek immediately sent his thoughts to Josh.

  “Yeah,” he replied to the empty room. “So am I.”

  JOSH EDGED two chairs into the shade of the massive elm in a vain attempt to avoid the surprising heat of the new summer sun. It had been a long-arse Friday night, half of which he’d spent dragging his legs like lumps through tidal mud flats by spotlight, meaning most of Saturday morning had been spent washing said mud from Paris’s coat.

  So bite him if attending a kid’s birthday party immediately after wasn’t exactly hitting any high notes. And yes, he was sulking. And no, he wasn’t being very discreet about it. But Sasha had begged, and he’d thought a little sucking up to his daughter wouldn’t hurt seeing as how they were just getting back on track after the whole grandparent/Michael fiasco.

  Michael fucking Oliver. A week after running into the man in the club and it still didn’t take more than his name to wind Josh up and get his stomach acid boiling. When he’d got home that Friday after watching Michael make out with some skinny piece of ass, he’d been fit to kill, cursing having ever been stupid enough to moon over the dickhead motherfucking man whore. How much better he was to be free of him, blah fucking blah.

  A couple of hours and five or six tequila shots later and he’d finally admitted that he was maybe, just maybe being a bit harsh. After all, he’d been open to a hookup himself that night, supposedly. And besides, he had no claim on the doctor, the guy was a free agent. But fuck if it hadn’t nearly driven him insane seeing the two of them together like that.

  His first thought had been to push the skinny dipstick aside and shove his own tongue down Michael’s throat, remind him what he’d been missing. But seeing Michael so happily back at his old game had just reaffirmed all Josh’s fears. He had to move on and let Michael do the same.

  Hence the reason he’d invited Brent to tag along to this damn birthday party a week later. The man had asked him yet again for coffee and this time Josh had caved, but swapped it for the birthday party instead—may as well find out how the guy handled kids. Brent had leapt at the invite, of course he had, and Josh couldn’t decide whether he was pleased or disappointed. Brent was no Michael Oliver, as Mark had warned him, but he was a nice guy and deserved a chance.

  He’d introduced Brent to Sasha as just a friend in the getting-to-know-each-other stage, part of Josh’s agreement to keep things honest with his daughter. She’d been cool toward him at first but that had quickly eased to something more akin to indifference, and Josh was okay with that. And so far, Brent had seemed, if not actually to be enjoying himself, then at least to be relatively amused by the preteen dramas on display. Conversation flowed easily enough as they’d chatted about work, movies, and Sasha.

  Brent had no children of his own and little experience but made a decent enough effort to engage Sasha in conversation, and in truth Josh was pleasantly surprised. If only he could garner more than a passing interest in dragging the guy to bed. He already knew it would be their first and only date. In that Michael had been right. Josh deserved the friend and the lover, and so did Brent.

  A water gun landed at Josh’s feet, breaking his train of thought. He lifted his gaze to find his daughter grinning at him like a loon.

  “C’mon, Dad,” she pleaded. “Toby grazed his knee and we’re short a
person. Jessica’s dad is killing us here.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow Brent’s direction and the other man laughed and said, “Go ahead. And play nice.”

  Josh grinned. Jessica’s dad was a sniper in the Armed Offenders Squad and none too modest about it. It was a prime opportunity to take the sucker down. He nodded enthusiastically at his daughter. “Lead the way.”

  One hour and a soaked set of clothing later, the party came to an end, and Josh and Sasha were collapsed on the grass at Brent’s feet. Jessica’s dad had unfortunately held his own in the battle of water cannons, and they had eventually called a good-natured truce and deemed the fight a draw. This was met by a series of boos and accusations of a police stitch-up by the kids. As far as raucous teen parties went, it hadn’t turned out too bad.

  Josh ruffled Sasha’s damp hair. “Grab your stuff, kid. We’re out of here.”

  She eyed him slyly. “Can we get pizza?”

  Josh groaned. “You’ve just eaten a bakery weight of sugar in the last three hours. I’m expecting Child Welfare to turn up any minute and arrest me for neglect.”

  Sasha brought her best puppy eyes to the table and threw in some eyelash batting for good measure. “Please, Daddy?”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. I suppose so.” He glanced at Brent. “You mind if we stop on the way back?”

  Brent grinned. “Are you kidding? I’m a huge fan of pizza, all the food groups covered on a thin crust of deliciousness. What’s there not to love? No anchovies, though.” He screwed up his nose.

  Sasha stuck out her tongue. “Blech. I’m with you. Stinky little fish don’t belong anywhere near good pizza.”

  Josh shook his head. “Uneducated heathens. Go get your stuff and don’t forget Katie’s plate, the one I brought the muffins on.”

  Sasha took off, and Josh turned to Brent. “I hope it wasn’t too boring for you. Kind of a weird date, I know. You’ve been a good sport.”