by Darien Cox
Murphy stopped just before reaching him. “I’m not stalking you. I just had a few more questions.”
Christian closed the distance between them. “This is private property.”
“Would you rather go down to the station?”
Chuckling, Christian nodded. “Ah. It’s like that, is it? Official business? What more could you possibly have to ask me? I told you everything I know about the lake incident.”
“Did you?”
Christian stared into his eyes. Damn, he really liked the guy’s looks. He wished he could see him smile, the way he did at other people. But despite the casual attire and the silly ball-cap, Murphy’s expression held no warmth. “You.” Christian pointed at him. “Need to stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
It was dark, but Christian swore the sheriff’s fair complexion flushed. “What are you referring to?”
“I think you know.”
He shrugged, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Why are you here, Sheriff?”
“Call me Myles.”
Christian’s brows rose. Okay, that’s new. “All right. Myles. Why are you here?”
“I have public safety concerns. Regarding the debris that crashed into the lake. And...regarding your part in it.”
“My part in it? I had no part in it.”
“But you are involved. Somehow. Am I right?”
“You ever hear that curiosity killed the cat, Myles?”
Myles stepped closer. “I’m not a cat.”
Christian suddenly found it hard to breathe. The sheriff...Myles...was standing very close to him. They were about the same height, but Myles had broader shoulders, big, muscular thighs in those jeans, nice biceps visible below the sleeves of his tee shirt. Christian could see the dark stubble where he’d shaved, and the pretty, gray-blue color of his eyes. He wanted to taste his mouth, run his hands up under his shirt to see if his skin was a soft as it appeared.
“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Christian. I just have some concerns. For the village. Can’t we just hang out for a bit? Talk?”
Christian laughed. “Well, aren’t you uncharacteristically polite. When you thought I was just the annoying boat guy it was all ‘Call me Sheriff Murphy’ and ‘Don’t be disrespectful’. But now that you’ve gone poking around into my past, suddenly you want me to call you Myles and hang out.”
Myles’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m not sure if I’m pleased you’re being honest about that, or if I’m disturbed you found out so quickly.”
“Found out what? That you had some CIA prick try to stalk me?”
Murphy took his cap off, scrubbing his dark hair with his fingers. He looked hot with his normally perfect hair a bit mussed up, and Christian had to remind himself that he was pissed at the guy. And that Myles Murphy was a threat, and he had to tread carefully. “What do you want, really, Myles? What are hoping to gain here?”
“Who are you, Christian?”
“You know who I am. I’m Christian Boucher. It’s my real name. On my birth certificate.”
Myles’ eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean. Who are you really?”
“Can I be completely honest with you?”
Myles nodded. “Yes.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
Grinning, Christian leaned in close. “I’m Batman.”
Myles scowled. “Well. Whoever you are, you’re still an asshole.”
Something burst up from the water to their right—a duck, doing some late night fishing. And while Christian was relieved it was only a duck, it had startled Myles, and he jumped so violently he lost his footing on the dock. As he fell, Christian tried to grab him, and Myles took hold of Christian’s arm, taking him along as they both went over, plunging into the lake.
“Fuck!” Christian shouted as his head surfaced, spitting water out.
Myles’ head popped up, hair slicked back. He coughed, treading water. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Christian splashed water at him. “You’re sorry? I’m wearing leather fucking pants!”
Myles chewed his lip. “Sorry.”
“Leather pants!” he said again. “They’re ruined. Clumsy fuck!”
Myles climbed back onto the dock and held out his hand, helping Christian up. His eyes danced with humor as he looked down at Christian’s soaking wet pants, and his cheeks dimpled.
“What?” Christian said. “You think this is funny?”
Myles laughed hard. It was that loud, booming laugh Christian had heard from him so many times, though it had never been directed at him before. Once he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop, holding a hand up as he backed away. “I’m sorry,” Myles said between laughs. “I’ll pay for you to get them cleaned.”
“Cleaned? They’re leather! They’re not supposed to get wet.”
That set Myles off again, and he lowered himself, sitting on the dock as the laughter trailed out of him. The dark blue tee shirt clung to his body, and his face was even more appealing now that it was fully visible with his dark hair wet and slicked back from his forehead.
“Then I’ll buy you a new pair.”
Christian sat down beside him. “I doubt you can afford them on your sheriff’s salary.”
“I’m sorry. The duck startled me.”
“Hey,” Christian said, turning his head to look directly at Myles. “I win.”
Myles met his eyes, wiping water droplets from his mouth. “You win what?”
“I made you a bet that I’d end up making you laugh one day. I win.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “But was it at you or with you?”
Christian pointed at him. “You didn’t specify.”
Myles shrugged. “Okay. You win. You made me laugh.”
“And now you’re scowling again,” Christian said.
“I’m not scowling.”
“Oh my God. You don’t even know you’re doing it.”
“Maybe,” Myles stood, “I’m scowling because I’m soaking wet and it’s breezy. Do you have any towels around here?”
Christian tried to stand, struggling. “Fuck, I think my pants are shrinking!”
“They’re not shrinking. They’re probably just sticking to your skin because of the water.” Myles chuckled and helped him stand. For a moment his arm lingered where it wrapped around Christian’s waist. When Christian met his gaze, Myles abruptly stepped back. “Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Christian said. “That you touched me?”
Myles shrugged.
“Because I don’t mind if you touch me.”
Myles definitely flushed that time, rubbing the back of his head, avoiding Christian’s eyes. “Do you have towels or not?”
“I have towels in the office, but...” Christian glanced back at the storage facility.
“But what?”
“Nothing, I’m just...not sure I should invite you up to my office after you CIA stalked me.”
Myles looked over Christian’s shoulder. “Who are those people?”
“They work for me.”
“All of them? And at this hour?”
“Okay, how’s this for a better answer. None of your damn business, Sheriff.”
“I told you to call me Myles.”
Christian studied the sheriff’s eyes. Something was different, and it wasn’t just that he was soaking wet. He’d lost that look, the one that used to make Christian feel like a cockroach. And it wasn’t simply a lack of disdain. Something new had been added. Interest?
“Are you being nice to me now because you pulled me into the lake, or because you found out I might be Batman?”
Myles’s shoulders stiffened. “Is Batman code for spy?”
Christian barked out a laugh. “You think I’m a spy?”
“Are you?”
“Give me a break.”
He shrugged. “What am I supposed to think? Y
ou’ve got some top secret, redacted file.”
“You could get in serious shit nosing around like that. I’m not joking or trying to sound mysterious. You could get in trouble, Myles. Is that what you want? You want trouble?”
“Is that what you are?” A slight grin curved Myles’ lips. “Trouble?”
Christian’s eyebrows rose. “Are you flirting with me?”
“No!” Myles’ response was immediate, and he took a step back.
“Well shit, I guess not.” Christian raised his hands. “My mistake.”
Myles’ lip trembled. He was shivering. “I’ll get out of your hair. Bye, Christian.” Myles turned away and started down the dock.
“Wait. I’ll give you a towel. Because contrary to your opinion of me, I’m actually a nice guy.”
Myles turned around. “Thank you.”
“Follow me.”
Christian cursed under his breath as he made his way up the stairs. The wet pants were squeaking, uncomfortable, even more so since he had half a boner just from speaking closely with hot, wet Myles Murphy. The sheriff was confusing him. The man didn’t seem to know what he wanted. He’d said he’d come for answers. But Christian got the distinct feeling he wanted something else. Something more personal.
But he couldn’t be sure if it was his own crush prompting the thought, wishful thinking.
Once inside the office, he got two towels, handing one to Myles.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Christian tried not to stare as Myles rubbed himself down.
Christian tried drying himself off, but the shirt was as soaked as the pants. He hesitated before taking it off, but then decided fuck it. This was his place, he could do as he pleased. Besides, Myles had seen Christian shirtless before and it hadn’t sent him into a sex frenzy...unfortunately.
Peeling his shirt off, Christian squeezed it out over the small sink in the kitchenette. When he set it down and grabbed the towel, Myles was staring at him, gaze trailing over Christian’s body. His eyes met Christian’s, and he quickly looked away, drying his hair. “You can look,” Christian said.
“What?”
Christian smiled. Myles’ eyes widened, his expression alarmed. “My tattoos. That’s what you were looking at, right?”
“Oh.” Myles set the towel down on the sofa, then sat on it, taking his shoes and socks off. His gaze flicked up to Christian. “You have a lot of them. I like the tree.”
“Thanks. I spend a lot of time in the woods.”
“What’s that one?” Myles pointed.
“Which one?”
Myles stayed seated, seeming too wary to come closer. So Christian walked over and stood directly before him. Tentatively, Myles reached up and pointed to the eye with the double iris. Great. He would have to point out that one.
Oh nothing, Myles. Just represents the eyes of the white aliens that live in the mountains over yonder there.
“It’s just a design I liked. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Myles’ eyes openly examined Christian’s flesh now, his breathing somewhat shallow. “Who’s James?”
Christian ran a finger over the tattoo on his ribcage. “My ex-boyfriend.”
“Huh. Surprised you haven’t had it removed. Or covered up. They can do that now, right? I don’t know much about tattoos.”
Chuckling, Christian said, “No. That tattoo isn’t going anywhere.”
Myles looked like he wanted to ask a question, but just let out a soft breath. “You ah...you sure have a lot of them.”
“You said that already.”
Myles grinned, then nodded. “Well, I like the ones on your back a lot.”
“Oh, you want to look?” When Christian turned around, his pants squeaked, and felt stiff around his thighs. “Shit! I need to get these off before they dry.”
When he turned back, Myles looked terrified again. He stood. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Relax, Myles, I’m not coming onto you.”
Christian opened his fly and tugged. The damn things were fused to his body. “I assure you,” he said, working to slide the leather over his hips. “If I wanted to seduce you...” He hopped up and down. “This would not be my ideal scenario. Can you help me with these?”
“Ah...” Myles chuckled. “I’d better not.”
“Myles I’m serious. I can’t get them off.”
“It’s just water making them stick to your skin. Peel them down slowly, stop tugging.”
Christian tried to follow Myles’ advice, but it felt like the pants had become two sizes too small, and suddenly he felt claustrophobic in them. “Shit. I’m not being flirty, Myles, I swear, these are seriously stuck. Please help me?”
The sheriff’s fair skin flushed pink. “What...” Myles rubbed his chin. “What do you want me to do?”
“Here.” Christian leaned his back against the wall. “Just use all your strength and tug them down.”
The sheriff stayed where he was.
“Myles, come on! I am not sleeping in wet leather pants! This is your fault, so help me.”
“Fine.” Myles shook his head and walked over, kneeling before Christian. “This is what I do, right?” He got hold of the pants and started pulling. “Help people.”
“Your public service is appreciated. Now pull harder, they’re not moving.”
“Damn, you weren’t kidding, Boucher. These things are fused to your body.”
“I told you!”
Using more strength, Myles tugged, and Christian’s body jerked. Myles’ face ended up bumping Christian’s lower belly, and he let go of the pants, holding his hands up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t have leprosy. Come on, Myles, do it harder.” Christ, did I just say that to Myles Murphy?
Gently placing his palm on Christian’s belly, Myles gripped the pants in the back and tugged one side, then moved over and tugged the other. They slid over the top of his ass. Myles gaped up. “You’re not wearing any underwear!”
“So what? You’ve never seen a cock before? It’s not gonna bite you.”
Myles rolled his eyes, and grabbed the pants at the sides. Christian held the desk for support. Three hard tugs, and the pants were down, over his hips, around his knees. And his now fully erect boner was in Myles’ face.
Myles looked stunned, staring at Christian’s cock. He hadn’t risen from his knees yet, and Christian’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Looking up, Myles met Christian’s eyes. “I assume you can take it from here?”
Christian couldn’t speak, so he simply nodded.
And that’s when the door opened and JT stepped into the office. Myles jumped to his feet and sprang away from Christian like he was on fire, as JT cried out, “Christian! Jesus!” He covered his eyes and turned away.
“This isn’t what it looks like.” Christian grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out of the pants.
“Really, Christian?” JT said, still with his eyes covered. “Guess you’re not upset anymore.”
“We weren’t doing...that,” Christian said. “He got me all wet so I needed him to get my pants off.”
“Not making it better,” Myles mumbled as he grabbed his shoes and socks off the floor.
JT thumped his head against the wall. “Sorry for the intrusion. I need to talk to you urgently, but I guess I’ll wait outside.”
“No, stay,” Myles said. “I was just leaving.”
Myles was out the door in seconds, closing it behind him.
“You can turn around, I’m decent. Not that you haven’t seen it all before.”
JT turned, a grimace on his handsome face. “Nice towel.”
Christian went to the couch and sat, hanging his head in his hands. “Well. Wasn’t that just humiliating.”
“More so for me, I assure you. You’ve been awful damn busy since you left the club. I thought you were gonna stay away from Murphy?”
Christian looked up. “I didn’t fool around wi
th the sheriff. I know it sounds nuts but he followed me here then we fell in the water and...” He laughed. “Then my cock was in his face.”
JT smirked. “And what would you have done if he’d decided to lick it or something?”
Holding JT’s gaze, Christian shrugged. “Honestly? I would have let him.”
“That’s what I thought.”
When JT said nothing further, Christian asked, “Aren’t you gonna lecture me?”
Sighing, JT crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not really the person to be lecturing others on making dangerous choices in love interests. You like this guy?”
Christian nodded. “He drives me fucking crazy.”
“Just be careful. He shouldn’t be at the marina, Christian.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” He looked up. “Are we good, JT?”
“I don’t know. Are we?”
“I’m sorry I flipped out on you at the club. I was freaking out over Myles looking into my background. I just had a lot on my mind.”
“Oh it’s Myles now?”
“Shut up.”
“So you’re really good with Rudy? With Rudy and me?”
“I am, I swear. I’m so happy for you. And I do want to take him out. He’s back tomorrow, right? Oh, wait. You’ll probably want him to yourself tomorrow night.”
“Nah, he’s coming back in the morning. I can fuck him all day. You can take him out tomorrow night.”
Christian rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t really need that image in my mind, but thanks.”
“Well, you’ll forget it soon enough. I have something to show you. Come down to my car.”
“I don’t have any pants.”
“So what, come in the towel, this is important.”
“Fine. What is it?” Christian got up and followed JT down the stairs.
“I think our half-White, half-human friend has been spying on us again.”
“Baz? Cut the shit! What happened?”
They reached JT’s car and he opened the rear hatch. “I didn’t just come here to make nice with you. After you left, I was in a bad mood so I went home. And I found this, out on my back lawn, next to the can of red paint we used to write that note to the Whites a few months back.”
JT pulled back a blanket and Christian stared at the piece of slate. In large, crude letters, were the words, NOT THEY.
