by Sue Brown
This afternoon Keenan was not enjoying his job. He pasted a smile on his face as he handed a young man his beer rather than tipping it over his head, which was what he deserved. He took the bill and handed the guy his change, and the guy made a big deal about checking it with a sideways comment to his friend about, “Can’t trust these idiots to get it right. They’re only bartenders. Probably didn’t even finish high school.” All in front of Keenan, who gritted his teeth but kept silent. The other guy looked embarrassed, but he didn’t call his friend out. Keenan was relieved when they moved away from the bar. He had a thick skin after years in security, but the question of his intelligence was a sore point.
“What did that glass ever do to you?” Dan said five minutes later.
Keenan looked up to see his boss grinning at him. He realized he’d been scowling at the glass he was wiping. He huffed. “The glass is fine. Some of the assholes in here, not so much.”
“Has someone been giving you a hard time?” Dan didn’t appreciate customers giving his staff trouble and would eject anyone being an asshole, regular or not.
“Just questioning my integrity. Bartenders are stupid. You know the type.” Keenan exhaled, trying to calm down. “It gets to me.”
Dan nodded in understanding. “I’ll serve them next time.”
“I’m okay,” Keenan said. “There’ll always be another idiot. I should be used to it by now. I’ve listened to every security and wannabe-cop joke under the sun.”
“Same with the bartending jokes. My patience got real thin really quickly.” Dan gave a wry smile. “Especially when I was putting myself through school to get that damn piece of paper.”
“Me too. I want to wave my degree in front of their faces, but what’s the point? It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
“It means something to you,” Dan said quietly. “There’s no point letting them get to you, my friend. Just smile, serve them their beer, and forget about them. Ah, here’s my favorite stripper.”
Keenan nearly choked, but then he saw a red-headed guy entering the bar. He weaved through the students who came in the afternoon to drink pitchers of cheap beer and take advantage of happy hour. Keenan frowned as he studied the guy. He was sure he knew him from somewhere, but he couldn’t think where they’d met.
“Hi Dan, is Gideon here?” The man sat on one of the tall stools by the bar.
“Hey, Cris. Not today. He’s been called into a meeting. He’ll be back this evening. Problem?”
“No. Well, not really. The contractors he promised me haven’t turned up today, and when I called them, they muttered something about the end of the week. I need it done before then. Got a big party on Thursday night.”
“Can’t Bennett or Mikey help you?”
Cris ran his hands through his hair, and it stuck up like a mane. “Yeah, but Mikey’s finishing up his project, and Bennett’s working on the second wave of veterans’ housing. They’re both working long hours. I don’t want to bother them. I could do it myself, but I need extra hands.”
Dan turned to Keenan. “What are you like with a screwdriver?”
Keenan blinked in surprise. “No expert, but I can do the basics.”
“That’s all I need,” Cris said and held out his hand. “Cris Peters.”
“Keenan Day. New boy. I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”
“I’m in here all the time. You’ve probably met my boyfriend, Bennett Petrovski, or his brother, Mikey.”
“Ramon’s boyfriend, Mikey?”
“That’s right.”
“Not yet. I know he’s been busy.” Keenan shook his head and then stared at Cris as recognition dawned with horrified certainty. “Lionman. You’re Lionman. I saw you with…. I mean I saw you at the opening night of Mane Event.” Watching Lionman strip for a crowd of screaming women would be imprinted on his brain forever.
“Mane Event is my club. You were there?” Cris eyed him with amusement.
“My sister dragged me along. No offense,” he added hastily.
Cris grinned. “None taken. Listen, can I borrow him now, Dan? I’ll have him back in a couple of hours.”
“Sure,” Dan said, and he glanced at Keenan. “You okay with that? It’ll get you away from Dumb and Dumber.”
Keenan shrugged. “Why not. As long as you tell me what to do.”
Cris’s smile grew broader. “Not a problem.”
“I’ll get my coat.”
It was just Keenan’s luck that before he turned to leave the bar, the student with the loud mouth returned. “Hey you. Refill.”
Keenan looked at Dan, whose expression went from amused and smiling to steely angry in the time it took for the guy to snap his fingers in Keenan’s face.
“Do that again and you’re out of here,” Dan said flatly.
Cris also turned to glare at the student, and Keenan remembered that underneath the flannel shirt and loose jeans was a well-muscled figure.
A sensible man, faced with three men with flat, unamused expressions would have apologized or made his escape. This man, fueled by cheap beer and bravado, snapped his fingers again in Dan’s face.
Keenan thought Dan would break every one of those fingers. Instead Dan said, “Out. You’re barred from Cowboys and Angels.”
The student sneered at him. “Who’s going to make me?”
“We are.”
It was almost funny to see the look on the student’s face when he was confronted by two stony-faced cops standing behind him.
“Are you gonna leave or are we gonna arrest you?” Nate asked as he flashed his badge. Ramon flashed his with a vicious smirk.
The student swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He opened his mouth to protest, but then his friend grabbed him by the arm, saying, “Don’t be so fucking stupid, Ethan. You’ll get kicked out of school if you get arrested again.”
Ethan shook him off, but he seemed to think better of causing more trouble. That didn’t stop him sneering, “I’ll be back.”
Keenan rolled his eyes as Dan said, “No, you won’t. You’re not welcome in my bar.”
As Ramon escorted Ethan and his friend out of the bar, Nate asked, “Everyone okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for the backup.” Dan smiled at Nate. “You’re early.”
Nate flashed a glance Keenan’s way. “Here for a late lunch.”
Great. Nate was here to check up on Keenan again, and Keenan was almost out the door.
“Okay,” Dan said, unaware of his bartender’s annoyance. “Let me just say goodbye to Keenan, and I’ll sort you out.”
“You’re finished for the day?” Nate asked Keenan, who shook his head.
“I’ve been contracted out to Cris for the afternoon.”
“That’s me,” Cris said helpfully as Nate looked confused.
“Cris owns Mane Event,” Keenan added. “Nate and I met outside your club on the opening night. Nate thought I was a stripper.”
“Hey, it was a compliment,” Nate protested, a faint hint of color staining his cheeks.
Cris eyed Keenan thoughtfully. “You could be. You have the right physique.”
Now it was Keenan’s turn to blush. “No way. I couldn’t take my clothes off in front of all those women. Besides, I’ve got two left feet.”
“I could teach you. I’ve got a pole in my apartment.”
Keenan had a mental image of writhing around a pole for an audience of one. From the look on Nate’s face, he’d had the same idea. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said hastily. “I prefer to keep my clothes on. I’ll get my jacket.”
Nate was talking with Cris and Ramon when he returned to the bar. Dan had disappeared down the end to serve two women.
“Are you ready?” Cris asked.
Keenan nodded. “Sure.”
“Great. See you later, guys,” Cris said to Nate and Ramon.
Nate stopped Keenan as he went to follow Cris through the bar. “Keenan, wait up.”
Keenan stopped and faced him, h
ands in his pockets.
“Are you free Sunday?” Nate asked.
“Now you want to talk?”
“Huh?” Nate looked confused.
“Never mind. I am if you don’t mind a late start. I’m working ’til four am.”
“Meet for a late lunch?”
“Sure.” Keenan caught Cris standing by the door and said, “I’ve got to go. See you Sunday.” He didn’t wait for a response but instead strode over to meet Cris. “Sorry about that. I’m ready now.”
“Are you and the broody detective an item?” Cris asked as they walked toward his car.
“N… no.”
“No?” Cris raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Just friends.”
“Oh.”
Keenan chose to ignore the wealth of meaning in that word. “I haven’t got a clue what we are, to be honest.” He heard Cris’s sigh and turned to see the sympathetic expression in his blue eyes.
“Noted,” Cris said.
Keenan shoved his hands in his jacket and followed Cris to his car. It didn’t matter. If Nate didn’t want to hook up with him, Keenan would deal with it. Nate Gordon wasn’t the only single gay guy in the world.
Chapter 9
ALL KEENAN wanted to do was bury his face in his pillows and not move until his next shift on Monday evening. After what seemed like the longest shift in history, he’d arrived home at 5:00 a.m. He hadn’t bothered to do more than strip off his boots and jeans and crawl into bed. He was out like a light.
When his alarm went off at 11:30 a.m., Keenan fumbled for the alarm and resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room to shut it up. He flopped onto his back, stuck one arm under his head, and scowled up at the ceiling.
“This is too damned early,” he muttered.
The restaurant Nate had picked was only open for a couple of hours for Sunday brunch, so Keenan had to shift his butt whether he liked it or not. He’d survived on six hours sleep before, and he was used to working unsocial hours, but it was different from being a security guard. Cris had told him the same. He’d worked for a short while at the bar before he took over ownership of the club. Keenan’s feet hurt, his legs hurt, and his ability to be civil went out the window along with the guys who recognized him from previous construction sites and decided to make him the evening’s entertainment. Dan threw the guys out as soon as he realized, but was it worth it?
Keenan growled again, but more at himself. He didn’t have an option if he wanted to pay his bills every month.
Option one—deal with a few dickheads.
Option two—move in with his parents.
He’d look for another job, but he just needed a breathing space.
When the alarm sounded again, he flung back the covers. “Shower, shave, hunt for clean shirt, call Mom, maybe get lucky.”
Keenan had had worse Sundays. Maybe he wouldn’t think about his mom and sex in the same sentence again.
KEENAN LOOKED up at the outside of the steakhouse near the bridge and shivered, wishing he’d worn a jacket to hide from the drizzle that had just started. Nate had texted him the address earlier in the day. Keenan had blinked when he saw the address and texted back to check Nate had the right place. The steakhouse was insanely expensive and way out of Keenan’s league. But Nate confirmed the address and Keenan wasn’t going to argue. He could beg a loan to cover his bills from his sister if he had to. “Hey.”
Nate’s rumbled greeting sent a shiver up Keenan’s spine. He turned to smile at Nate and noted the sparkle in his eyes. His cop was as pleased to see him as Keenan was.
“Hey,” Keenan replied.
“Are you ready to go in?” Nate asked.
Keenan nodded and pushed open the door of the steakhouse. He was pleased just to get out of the drizzle that was rapidly turning into light rain. “I’m starving.” As though in response, his stomach rumbled audibly, and Nate laughed.
“Let’s feed you before you eat me.” Keenan’s swiftly indrawn gasp must have been as loud as his stomach, because Nate turned to look at him. “You like that idea?”
Keenan looked him in the eye. “Yeah. I like that idea.”
Nate’s smile grew wide. “Me too.”
A waitress came toward them, tablet in hand and a professional smile on her face. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”
“Table for Nate Gordon,” Nate said.
She glanced at her tablet and looked up at them. “Follow me.”
The restaurant was dimly lit, with dark tables and red napkins, but the aroma made Keenan’s stomach rumble. He tried to remember the last time he’d had a meal. It must have been lunchtime yesterday. No wonder he was hungry.
Nate waited until Keenan was seated and then sat down himself. Keenan looked across the table at him and noticed the raindrops caught in his hair and eyelashes.
“Have you been here before?” Nate asked.
“No. I don’t go out to eat much,” Keenan confessed. “My mom’s a great cook, so we all go there to be social. And most of my friends are married with kids now.” He smiled wryly. “I end up babysitting their kids so they can go out, rather than them coming out with me. They like me babysitting because I look after my sister’s kids.”
Nate gave a rumble of laughter. “I know that one. My sisters were always trying to get me to look after my nieces. I don’t mind occasionally, but I usually plead work.”
“Now that I’m working at the bar most evenings, I’ve got the same excuse. Uncle Kee Kee is temporarily out of commission.”
“Uncle Kee Kee?” Nate smirked.
“What do your nieces call you?”
“The bank.” Nate made a face and Keenan laughed. “I love them all, but they’d bleed me dry if they got the chance.”
Any further conversation was interrupted by the waitress. “Hi, guys. What can I get you to drink?”
“Bloody Mary please,” Keenan said. Nate smirked at him and Keenan scowled. “I just woke up, okay?”
Nate held his hands up in surrender. “Okay! Understood. You’re a Grinch in the morning.” He turned to the waitress. “I’ll have the same as my grumpy friend.”
She made a note without cracking a smile. “Are you ready to order?” Without even looking at the menu, Nate ordered the steak and eggs. That sounded good to Keenan, and he ordered the same. He was hungry enough that he would have had the food now and wait for it to be cooked later.
When the waitress had gone, Nate looked around the room. “This is the first place I tried when I arrived in Brooklyn.”
Keenan choked on his drink and fumbled for his napkin. Nate pressed his own into Keenan’s hand. When Keenan stopped spluttering, he managed to gasp out, “Most of us get pizza delivered.”
Nate grinned at him. “I don’t eat here every night.”
He smirked at Keenan’s heartfelt, “Thank God.”
“I like it. It’s kinda old-fashioned, and relaxing and far enough out of the way that I don’t have to worry about meeting anyone I know.”
Keenan leaned back in his seat and studied Nate. “You must have been lonely when you first moved here.”
Nate gave a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, but it would have been the same anywhere.”
Keenan had a feeling he was playing down the loneliness. God forbid Detective Nate Gordon admitted to any sign of weakness. Then he felt ashamed. That was just bitchy of him.
“Your face is very expressive,” Nate said suddenly.
“What?”
“I can tell what you’re thinking just by looking into your eyes.”
Keenan blushed. “You said that before.”
Nate shrugged again. “It’s my job. A lot of people lie with their mouths, but their body language is saying something completely different.”
“I’d never thought about that.”
“You probably don’t have a reason to lie to the police.”
Keenan thought about it for a long moment. “The only cops I know are Karen and Ramon, and you
know what he’s like.”
Nate smirked for a moment. “And now me.”
“And now you,” Keenan agreed.
The waitress returned with their Bloody Marys. He had to give her credit. She was very on the ball.
Something brushed Keenan’s calf. Nate was stretching his legs, but Keenan didn’t move away. There was no tablecloth, so he couldn’t play footsie under the table with Nate, but a brush of their legs was just fine.
They talked for a while, filling in the gap until their food arrived. Nate asked Keenan what he’d done at Mane Event the previous afternoon.
“Keenan?”
Keenan started. He’d been lost in thought, staring at Nate’s hand wrapped around his beer bottle and imagining it wrapped around his cock. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“You were at Mane Event yesterday?”
“Oh. Yeah. Cris needed a hand with some of the new rigging. It wasn’t secured properly. He needed extra hands to do the work. You should have heard the language coming out of his mouth about the contractors.”
“He wasn’t impressed?”
“I get the feeling Cris is a perfectionist.”
Nate gave an approving nod. “Good. You can’t mess with people’s safety.”
“I met a couple of the other strippers.”
And wasn’t that a revelation. They’d been rehearsing routines as he and Cris worked, and Cris barked out suggestions to them. Keenan had watched them perform on stage during a short break and realized Cris was just as exacting on the performers as he was on the equipment. Cris wanted them to shine in the spotlight, and he was going to make sure they gave it their all.
“Cris didn’t persuade you to join them?”
Keenan barked out a laugh. “Hell no. No one would pay to see me strip.”
He’d kept his voice low, but the cough told him his voice hadn’t been low enough. Cheeks flaming, he looked up to see the waitress holding their plates. Her face was as red as his. He made the mistake of looking over at Nate, who was biting back laughter.
“Your steak and eggs,” she managed. “Don’t touch the plates. They’re hot.”