by J. P. Oliver
I swallowed. “Right.”
“Gonna catch Ace up on the case,” Ryder hummed to himself, before pausing, and then laughing. “Shit, I’m good at rhyming.”
I couldn’t help it.
My lips pulled into a smirk—he was stupid and goofy. I swallowed a sudden need to tell him that. Before I could force the smirk away or cover it, he caught sight of it, and the smile he shot me was enough to melt my insides. It was sexy and private and warm and—
I cleared my throat, pretending I had to grab something from my desk, telling him, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
It’s just work, I told myself. Stop being so worried. He doesn’t want this either, so it’s going to be fine—just be civil and work together. Just solve the case and you won’t have to work together after this, hopefully….
With a cleansing breath, I shook my head.
It’s just work.
Ryder was waiting for me when I got there, and, as the door behind me closed, my first thought was that the conference room was incredibly…private.
I pulled a seat out for myself and he tossed a file onto the table.
Ryder didn’t take a seat.
“This is what Eli and I were able to compile on the guy so far.”
He stood slightly behind me, gesturing with a finger to certain things as I leafed through a hefty stack of papers, consumed by the minty smell of him—not toothpaste, I thought, but more like wintergreen gum—because he was standing so fucking close.
Ryder rested a hand on the table next to the folder.
My muscles reacted instantly, tightening beneath my clothes.
“It’s mostly blurry home security shots and interviews—not that they matter too much. The fucker wore a mask every time, but we at least do know that he’s a male, approximately in his thirties or forties with a strong build. He hits at night, so even then, most people don’t get a good look at him….”
Ryder was saying more—things I should have been listening to—but focusing was impossible. All I could think about was the wintergreen gum and the faint scent of whatever musky cologne he was wearing, and how his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up—it culminated quicker than I could control, my cock hardening and my mind swirling with confusion.
Don’t stand so fucking close, I wanted to tell him. You don’t know what it’s doing to me.
I wanted him away, I wanted my body to stop what it was doing, I wanted to be a different person and not have my mind so easily overtaken with the intrusive thought of him pushing me against the table like he’d pushed me against the wall, knowing it would be easy with how much bigger he was, and kissing me until—
“What’s it look like to a city cop like you, though?” Ryder asked, his hand clapping my shoulder, and—maybe it was just friendly, but to me it was like throwing a match on gasoline.
I flinched at the touch and stood quickly, pushing his hand off of me with an aggression I couldn’t control, my face burning.
“Keep your filthy fucking hands off me.”
5
Ryder
The words hung in the otherwise empty conference room.
Keep your filthy fucking hands off me.
Anger welled up inside me after a split second of plain shock. I had a lot of patience, but Ace seemed to make it his job trying it. It had been just a friendly gesture, I hadn’t even thought about it, but this was uncalled for. All he had to do was ask me to stop. Getting so fucking aggressive and looking at me like a wild animal caught in a trap wasn’t fine or even remotely professional.
With a few strides, he was stumbling back against the table and I pressed our bodies together, tight, and I felt it—his erection wasn’t something he could hide as easily. Ace swallowed, maybe at the friction of it, eyes moving over my face; he was afraid to have been caught, but more than that he was angry at being turned on.
I’d never force myself on someone. Never.
But this was something else with Ace.
A point needed to be made if we were going to work together.
With a hand to his chest, I pressed him to the table, his hands catching his weight before he was spread out on his back, and my arms came down, too, caging him in, hips aligned, the press of them not-so-accidental.
I waited for him to push me off, but the move never came.
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something sexy about him, but we were in two different states. Where he was breathing hard, lips parting and eyes wide, I felt controlled; plenty of experience made it easy to control myself in moments like these, and my lips skirted across his cheek to brush against his ear.
“Listen carefully,” I whispered, hot against his ear. “I’m not going to tolerate your homophobic behavior.”
I felt him shiver.
“I was only trying to comfort you for whatever the fuck was making you so tense. If I wanted to put my filthy hands on you in any other capacity,” I told him, “you’d know it.”
I didn’t give him a moment to answer or do anything at all; when I stepped away to look him square in the face, the anger was gone and replaced with confusion and a look that told me he was maybe sorry.
But a look wasn’t enough.
An apology was in order, but that never came either.
“You can look over the files yourself,” I told him, heading for the door, but stopping pointedly. “I have to go wash my hands. They’re feeling especially filthy lately.”
The rest of the day was radio silent, right up until end-of-shift.
I’d felt pretty eaten up by what had happened, a mix of feeling sorry for him for being so clearly confused and feeling angry because it wasn’t fair to take it out on me or anyone else, and I’d just floated through the rest of the day.
All I was looking forward to was a long night’s sleep or a drink or—something other than breaking in a homophobic, gay partner who couldn’t stand being in the same room as me.
I shut my phone with a sigh and looked up, key in hand as I stopped suddenly.
Ten feet away, leaning on the door of my truck, was Ace.
“Hey.”
He shifted, always uncomfortable, arms crossed. “Hey.”
“Uh…” I glanced around the dark, nearly empty parking lot. “Were you just waiting for me this whole time, or…? I thought you left, like, half an hour ago.”
I drew closer to him slowly when it seemed like he wouldn’t try to go aggro on me again. Ace was staring at his feet, apparently thinking real hard, before he shut them.
“I’m sorry. For the way I acted, I…” When he looked up at me again, it was that same look I’d left him with in the conference room, and again he said, “I’m sorry. It’s not personal, it’s my own…shit. I’ve just had some really bad personal experiences when it comes to men and…affection.”
It was the most I’d heard him say all at once since he’d gotten to Harlan.
Ace looked at me, waiting, and when I didn’t speak, he filled the silence himself.
“I transferred here because I needed to get out of Denver. Get away from my old squad after they saw me check out some other guy. It was one asshole who didn’t take too well to the idea of me being gay, so he spread it around to everyone, and after that, they all gave me a real fucking wide berth. Nobody wanted to work with me. Talk to me. Nothing, y’know, it…it became fucking impossible to work with them, so I was transferred here to Harlan and I didn’t understand why until…”
He tilted his head a little.
Ty and Eli.
Until I told him most of us weren’t exactly straight.
“It’s gay-friendly. That’s…that’s not something I’m used to either. I know it’s not an excuse for being a shithead, but this is all new to me. I’m not officially out to anyone.”
I blew out a breath. “No kidding.”
Ace’s expression twitched and he looked away.
Okay…maybe he looked cute when he was apologizing.
I let him go on. He seemed like h
e was really coming to a solid conclusion.
“I just…I’m not a homophobe,” he said. “I came out here because I don’t want you to think that’s who I am, ’cause it’s not.”
6
Ace
It was like a hose you couldn’t turn off.
The words came pouring out of me after many hours not reading the files and thinking about how royally I had fucked up. An apology had been the point of waiting at Ryder’s truck until he clocked out, but…I hadn’t planned this. Spilling my guts to him. I just felt like shit after today, and I knew the only way to fix it was to take back all the things I’d said. Really, I’d known it the second they came out of my mouth.
I was just freaking out.
Kind of like I was now.
Or at least, I felt like I was freaking out. But neither of us was yelling, and I wasn’t hard or trying to push Ryder away from me, so that was progress at least.
He was silent for a long time, which I hated. If he was going to tell me I was shit, I wanted him to just say it and not let me squirm, but I knew it wasn’t up to me to force his reaction. I was always prepared for the worst, and, expecting a reprimand, I was instead given a nod.
“Your old coworkers are idiots.”
I blinked. I think I was so relieved, my soul nearly passed out of my body.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“Look, uh…” Ryder clicked his tongue and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You wanna come out for a drink with a couple of non-idiots?”
I watched him carefully, my surprise probably written all over my face. “What?”
“I’m meeting some of the guys at O’Neill’s,” he said. “You can come join, if you want.”
Part of me was interested, but part of me was drained after the day we’d had.
“I don’t know…”
“C’mon,” he said, grinning. “I won’t bite unless you want it.”
I found myself eternally thankful for the dark as I felt a flush run from my cheeks down over my chest. I opened my mouth, but didn’t really know what to say, caught between wanting to go and isolating myself because it was so easy that way—but Ryder’s eyes were gleaming, and he took a short, sudden step into my space.
My breath hitched and my body tensed, back to the truck.
Ryder chuckled under his breath.
He reached—for the handle, popping the driver’s door open.
I could hear him laughing to himself as he crawled in, and it took all my energy not to sag against the truck or fall to the ground in a heap.
I followed Ryder to the bar in my own car.
When we got to O’Neill’s, which I’d only seen from the outside until now, I was surprised by how busy such a little dive was. For a moment, trailing behind Ryder, I was worried about finding a table, but, sure enough, a far booth was occupied with people waiting for him: Eli and his fiancé, Ty, who, before being accused by Ryder as an accidental homophobe, I found very nice and easy to talk to. Both of them scooted in and greeted Ryder happily, all smiles and pats on the shoulder, as did another man. I’d never met him before and he watched me carefully as I made space for myself in what I guessed was their usual spot.
“Hey, Sarah,” Ryder flagged down the waitress. “Two of the usuals, please?”
Sarah, who had to be in her fifties and looked like she could throw you in the trash with one hand, waved at him. “Sure thing, sweetie.”
“I’ve brought a friend tonight,” Ryder said, shrugging out of his coat. “You already know each other—”
“I don’t know him,” said the stranger.
“Right, right. Ace, this is Gavin Joy—”
“You own Sit and Sip,” I recalled, reaching across to shake his hand.
Gavin seemed surprised and pleased as he met it. “My reputation precedes me.”
“Yeah, I gave him the tour,” Ryder said. “Don’t let your head get too big, Gavin.”
“I haven’t been in yet,” I said, “but it looks nice. I hear good things.”
“I didn’t think you were listening to my excellent tour facts,” Ryder said, grinning.
I was saved from having to answer by Sarah, who slid mugs of cheap beer in front of the two of us. I found myself thankful to have something to busy my mouth with—I wasn’t a talker and these guys were all friends, so conversation flowed easily between them. They probably wouldn’t have minded me asking questions, but I didn’t interject myself.
“Hey.” Gavin was looking at me conspiratorially, and he must have noticed me being silent by the knowing smile on his face. “So how’s it been in Harlan so far? You like it?”
I knew what he was doing, and I honestly appreciated it.
Gavin had an easy disposition about him. His voice was loud and his smile was big, uninhibited, and unfairly dimpled. Honestly, what the fuck—was every guy in Harlan movie-star hot?
“It’s good so far,” I said, voice forced over the music. “This is the first time I’ve been out, though, so…”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn, I’m surprised Ryder hasn’t dragged you out to every bar so far,” Gavin laughed.
There’s a reason for that, I thought, taking a long sip.
“Not a late-night kind of guy?” he asked.
“I guess not,” I said, smile sheepish. “I never was. Not even in high school or college. My family was pretty strict about stuff like that.”
He hummed, nodding like he knew about it. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but either way, you got the impression from him right away that he could understand you without having walked in your shoes.
“What about you?” I pushed myself to ask. “You a late-night guy?”
“Only when I’m out with these clowns,” he said, nodding towards the others. “Otherwise…well, I’m not in college anymore, let’s just say that. I run a coffee and bookshop. I’m not exactly a party animal, if that answers your question.”
It went on like that, and I found myself stupidly thankful that Gavin was here. He not only kept up a sideline conversation with me, but he brought me easily into group conversation without it seeming like intruding, and, with the beer and the smiles and the atmosphere, I felt myself relaxing a little. They were good people.
Feeling the pleasant buzz of being buzzed, there were times when the others were speaking and laughing where I’d let my eyes slide sideways, stealing glances at the side of Ryder’s face. His green eyes looked unfair in the light and when he smiled at his friends, the corners wrinkled a little. And his laugh… It melted through me. How could a laugh be loud and obnoxious and sexy all at once?
I looked away quickly when I heard Gavin laughing beside me, his eyes knowing.
Fuck.
I knew it by Gavin’s smile: I was caught.
Maybe it was the heat in my face or maybe my panic had shown in my eyes, but Gavin put a hand on my shoulder to calm me before I could run out of the bar, voice low enough so the others wouldn’t hear.
“It’s nothing—”
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, man.”
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t, but that would have been a lie.
“Every gay man in Harlan’s looked at Ryder that way, one time or another.”
My mouth opened, wanting to tell him I wasn’t gay either, but that, too, was a lie.
It was with a small rush that I realized I didn’t need to lie.
Neither confirming nor denying, I nodded. Gavin’s hand fell away and he pushed my beer towards me with a laugh. I took a long sip, draining the glass, because, as nice as this was, the sudden revelation that being gay in this company was fine and that Gavin had picked up on it was enough fun for one night. I was starting to feel uncomfortable, and, after my explosion today, I didn’t want to repeat it with these nice people.
“I’m gonna head out,” I said at the lull in conversation.
“Oh,” Ty almost whined. He was definitely drunker than the rest of us, looking up at m
e cutely, his hand tangled with Eli’s on the table. “Are you sure?”
I shot him a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry. It was a long day.”
Ryder’s eye met mine, sharp because he knew just how long it had been.
“Here,” he said, popping up out of the booth unexpectedly. “I’ll walk you out.”
I made a move to tell him no, it wasn’t necessary.
But he flashed that boxer-melting smile.
With a small huff and a heat in my stomach, I let him follow me out.
The world was quieter outside of O’Neill’s without all the music and chatter and glasses clinking together.
I could hear each of our steps, out of sync, as he followed me to my car. In the cool night air, I could see my breath in little puffs of white. Despite the temperature, I wasn’t cold; I felt… mostly good. Warm and ready to crawl into bed now that the night’s earlier buzz had completely worn off.
Unlocking my car, I turned to say goodnight to Ryder, feeling the energy of him standing behind me, but before I could say a word, his arms came up on either side of me—a move that made my back hit my car.
His body was close and I was caged in like I’d been in the conference room.
But it was different this time.
There was no arguing.
There was just Ryder’s mouth, brushing close enough to mine that I felt his breath, warm and wintergreen like fingers grazing down my spine and making me shiver. Whatever confusion there was about what was happening was overturned by my instant attraction, desire pulsing through me with each heavy heartbeat.
“I—”
“If you don’t stop looking at me like you want to eat me,” Ryder said, voice husky and eyes dark, “I won’t be held responsible for what I do next.”
My breath hitched as his lips moved over my cheek.
The light skimming was doing more to me than a fight ever could. I was trembling against him, body wound up tight, years of wanting something I could never have suddenly rising to the surface, cock hard in my pants and pressed against Ryder’s thigh.
