“Does he know you were a whore? Not that it matters, ’cause you were like twelve. Really. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Fuck. Jules. Come on, trying to carry things here.” He stumbled on the same broken cabinet he’d been stepping around for about a week—or at least that was the lie Forest told himself when he pitched forward into a lurching stop. Sliding away from Jules’s penetrating gaze, he sat down and mumbled, “I was thinking I wanted to eat.”
His phone rang, a roll of music from a band he’d once loved and whose remains were smeared all over a blacktop in Los Angeles following an accident. Forest almost slid it over to voice mail, not wanting to deal with any of Sound’s crap, but a quick glance at the number heated up the simmering want he’d started for Connor Morgan.
“Shit, I—um—I’ve gotta take this,” Forest mumbled and pushed his chair back quickly. He heard it fall but didn’t care. All he wanted was to find someplace quiet so he could listen to the roll of Irish coming through the phone or maybe even spit back a few where-the-fuck-have-you-beens he’d been storing up since he’d last seen Connor Morgan.
Forest hit the button to answer the phone, and one damned word undid him.
“Hey,” Connor rasped.
Any bitching out he had planned was shot. A single drop of Irish cop whiskey growl, and Forest had to prop himself up against the remains of the back counter, or he’d have been on his knees begging for more. It was back to heart-dotted i’s and wondering how the man’s long, thick fingers would feel stretching him apart. He didn’t even like getting his ass played with, and Forest found himself fantasizing about Connor holding him down and peeling him open with those rough, graceful hands.
“What are you doing?” Connor’s voice broke through Forest’s thoughts. “Tell me you’ve at least eaten some lunch.”
“No, working on coffee shop shit. Jules is here. I’ve decided I know crap about retail, so I’m kind of handing things over to her to fuck up.”
“Good to have a partner in the fucking… up.” That last word came too late, barely on the heels of the one Forest focused on.
“Hey, you should come by and take a look at what the designers came up with… and um, Jules too. You drink a lot of coffee. Maybe from a customer’s point of view.” He saw a bread knife pinned to the wall by a blade magnet when he glanced at the kitchen cut-through and wondered if he could somehow hold the knife up long enough to fall on it. “Shit, you’re probably doing family things, right? Sunday stuff? No worries. We can—”
“Nah, it sounds like something fun. I like doing stuff like that. I’m restoring a Victorian I bought. That kind of stuff interests me.” Connor’s deep purr made Forest rethink the whole fall-on-his-sword thing. “Give me a little bit. I’ve got to talk to my da, and I’ll be right there. So I’ll see you soon.”
“Sure, won’t be soon enough,” Forest murmured back. Hearing himself, he curled into the edge of the wall, hoping its hard edge would lend him its strength, considering he’d lost his spine somehow. “Not soon enough, you know? Jules might be gone. Um… but I’ll be here. I’ll wait.”
He hung up, then contemplated the espresso machine’s power cord, debating if it could make a good loop to hang himself with. Sighing, Forest settled for hitting his head with the edge of his phone and grumbled to himself, “Jesus. What the fuck, dude? You’ve made out with rock stars, did all-nighters with hard-core musicians, and you’ve come to this? Spooging over a fucking cop? Jesus H. Christ.”
“You talking to yourself over there? Or are you having phone sex?” Jules called out, startling him. “’Cause if you are, I want to listen! Maybe even record it. You’re hot. I could make some bucks on the video.”
“No, no phone sex, but shit, I need help. I act like I’m an idiot around him. I can’t wait for him to lose interest in whatever the fuck he thinks he can save me from and go away. Then everything will go back to normal.” He again meandered back to the shot-up dining area. “Come on. Let’s go over this stuff so I can give it to the designers this week. Sooner I get this place fixed up the sooner customers can come back.”
“Customers like Lt. Connor Morgan?” Jules wiggled her eyebrows at him, grinning when he flicked a bit of her curls away from her shoulder. “Because you know, if I had to worry about one customer coming, it would be him.”
“God, why do I want you back here?” Forest grimaced.
“Because I’m your friend.” She winked. “And who else is going to tease you about crushing on a straight cop? Teasing you about it is just a perk—kind of like taking vacation days. I don’t always do it, but when I do, it’s sublime.”