by Lynn Hagen
“He told you he was homeless?” Max’s brows shot up as he glanced from Maltese to Vince. “I’m surprised, considering how stubborn and prideful he is. Not that I know him all that well, but I’ve dealt with him before.”
Homeless? Vince mentally cursed and felt like an idiot for suggesting they go back to his mate’s place. “Are you sure?”
“That he’s stubborn?” Max asked. He slowly nodded. “Yeah, but he’s also sweet, too.”
Vince rubbed his eyebrows. “No, about the homeless part.”
“Well, he told me some things when we were stuck in the demon realm. I’m pretty sure he has nowhere to go.”
“Are you pulling one of Max’s numbers?” Dillon leaned his arm on the door. “Taking in strays?”
Vince gritted his teeth. Even if Maltese hadn’t been his mate, he would’ve found the guy a warm place to spend the night. He was just that type of guy, and that was why he’d joined the police force. Vince couldn’t stand to see anyone suffering hardship and always tried to help out whenever or wherever he could.
“Sorry,” Dillon said. “I guess I’m still a little resentful that he sold Max that masking agent that nearly killed him.”
“And Maltese didn’t know I’d gone cold turkey,” Max argued. He turned to Vince. “We’ll take him in since he doesn’t have anywhere to go.”
Dillon looked as though he wanted to argue but pressed his lips together. Vince wanted to chuckle. Dillon was finally mated, and it looked as though Max was a handful. “Nah, I got this. I’m gonna let him crash at my place.”
Max squeezed Vince’s arm. “You’re a good guy, Vince.”
Dillon took Max’s hand. “Come on. I promised you dinner, and it’s getting late.”
With one last look at Maltese, Max turned and they walked into the diner.
Vince stared at Maltese curled up on the seat. The bangs of his dark hair had fallen to cover his eyes. The guy definitely needed a haircut, but Vince liked the long shabby look on him. He wondered what hardship Maltese had suffered to put him in this situation.
Whatever the case was, Vince wasn’t gonna let Maltese suffer through it. Not if he could help it and not if his mate didn’t fight him on the matter.
Decision made, Vince reversed from his parking spot and headed toward home as he rolled his window back up. The drive took less than ten minutes. Vince parked and cut the motor before getting out and scooping Maltese from the passenger seat.
The guy slept like a rock. He didn’t stir or wake up when Vince carried his mate inside and laid him on the couch. He would’ve put him to bed, but again, he didn’t want the guy to flip out.
Vince took the jacket and replaced it with an afghan blanket, which had been folded and was lying over the back of his overstuffed couch, and then removed Maltese’s shoes and set them aside. Next he lit a fire in the fireplace before wandering to the kitchen to find something to eat.
He might’ve enjoyed his meal with his mate, but he was starving. Grilled cheese and fries hadn’t cut it. Not by a longshot.
Thankfully he had some leftover roast and popped the container into the microwave as Bella, his white Persian cat, rubbed against his leg. Vince hunched down and petted her. “We have a guest, so make him feel welcome.”
Bella licked his hand before trotting off. The microwave beeped. Vince took the plastic container, along with a fork and a bottled water, to the living room. He slid into the recliner that sat to the left of the couch and turned the television on, keeping the volume low.
As he ate, his gaze continually wandered to Maltese’s slim frame stretched out on the couch. He still needed to tell the guy that they were mates, but it seemed that conversation was gonna have to wait.
Even so, Vince was still stunned that he’d found his mate. He’d been trying to process that revelation all day, to find a way to tell Maltese in a gentle way. His mate had already been under a lot of stress to cook up another batch of masking agent under the watchful eyes of Sheriff Werth and Dillon.
That had to have been grueling for him.
With a sigh, Vince set his dish aside and pulled the lever on the side of his chair, letting it back as he settled in and watched some movie on Netflix about escaping dinosaurs. When he fell asleep, the dinosaurs infiltrated his dreams, as did Maltese, as he and his mate tried to outrun them.
Chapter Two
Maltese threw the blanket back and stretched. Why was he so hot? He felt something weighing on his chest, and when he cracked his eyes open, he came face to face with a large ball of white fur. The cat blinked at him as if pissed that Maltese had disturbed it.
The cat jumped down as Maltese sat up and looked around, having no clue where he was. There was a slow-burning flame in the fireplace that had been the cause of his sweating. He gazed around at the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, the large fake tree sitting in one corner, the thick carpet under his feet, and lastly, his gaze landed on Vince, who was asleep in the tan-colored recliner with a bowl of forgotten food sitting next to him on the end table.
Now that he could check the deputy out unhindered, his gaze swept over the guy. He couldn’t understand why Vince was being so helpful, but his thoughts wandered down a different path, a path he needed to wipe from his mind. The guy was tall. His feet dangled over the footrest part of the recliner and his head rested at the very edge at the top. His arms were folded over his chest, making his biceps bulge.
Maltese’s gaze slid from his swollen pecs to his washboard abs. Vince’s shirt had risen slightly, showing off the patch of skin just above his waistband.
And his dark happy trail.
Stop perving on the guy while he’s asleep.
Maltese spotted his shoes on the carpet next to the couch. He slipped them on, folded the blanket and set it aside, and then made for the front door, refusing to drink in one last sight of the gorgeous deputy. He grimaced as he eased the door open and slipped out.
The cool night air slowly robbed him of his warmth as he headed down the walkway and started up the street. He checked his phone to see what time it was and cursed. Too bad he hadn’t charged it while at Vince’s. Then again, the last thing Maltese recalled was sitting in the guy’s truck.
He stopped at the corner and looked left then right, unsure which way he should go. What he really wanted to do was turn around and go back to Vince’s house and snuggle up on the couch again.
Or snuggle up on Vince’s lap in the recliner.
“You looking for a good time?”
Maltese turned and stared at the tan sedan. The guy behind the wheel was bent slightly as he looked across the seat out the passenger window. He had a thick villain mustache but a bald head. He reminded Maltese of Dick Dastardly from the cartoons, but without the hat or dark hair.
“Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
“Because you’re standing on the fucking corner at two in the morning,” the guy snapped. “You look like a bottom out to have some fun.”
Maltese spun and headed back toward Vince’s house. He might’ve gotten snappy with the stranger, but in truth, the guy gave him the creeps and he wanted to put distance between him and that handlebar mustache. Without his powers, he would be helpless to fight the pervert off if Dick Dastardly got out and came after him.
The sedan slowly drove next to him. “I’d pay you a nice amount to suck my—”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Maltese snapped. “Fuck off, you creep.”
The car continued to slowly roll next to him as Maltese picked up his pace. He hadn’t thought he’d walked that far from Vince’s, but it seemed miles away as the guy kept following him. His heart hammered and his chest constricted as the pervert kept pace with him. Where in the fuck was a cop when you needed one?
Maltese wanted to pump his arm in the air and shout for joy when he spotted Vince coming down the street toward him. He wore a deep scowl as his gaze seared Maltese with its intensity. Vince didn’t look the least bit happy that Mal
tese had taken off.
“That’s my boyfriend and he’s a cop, so you better get the fuck outta here,” Maltese said to the stranger.
The guy glared at Vince before he drove off. Maltese had never sold his body to get by, and he wasn’t gonna start now. And even if he’d been a male hooker, he wouldn’t have gotten into that weirdo’s car. The guy’s creep vibe made Maltese want to jump into a shower and scrub his body from head to toe just so he’d feel clean again.
Vince stopped walking and stared at the sedan as it drove past. He furrowed his brows and then looked at Maltese. “What was that about?”
“Some pervert trying to lure me into his car with the promise of candy and cute little lost puppies.” Maltese closed the distance and stood next to Vince, praying the stranger didn’t circle the block to see if he was lying about Vince being his boyfriend.
Vince slung his arm around Maltese’s shoulder as they walked back toward the house, giving Maltese a false sense of safety and security. Vince was a cop. He was just protecting Maltese like he would any other citizen in trouble. It wasn’t like they were actually dating.
“Why’d you take off?” Vince led Maltese up the walkway. “You didn’t have to leave. I told you no funny business.”
Maltese shrugged, not only because he didn’t want to answer Vince but because he wanted the man’s arm off him. There was no use pretending the arm meant more than protecting him. Maltese wasn’t gonna fool himself into thinking Vince wanted him to stay around. He was just giving Maltese a warm place to sleep for the night.
“I’m not a pervert.” Vince opened the door, and the warmth from inside spread over Maltese’s face. He walked in behind Vince, and the cat ran up to him, rubbing itself along his leg.
“Don’t crowd him, Bella,” Vince gently scolded.
“A girl cat?”
Vince nodded and closed the door behind them. “Are you hungry?”
Maltese’s stomach chose that moment to growl. “Maybe a little, but you don’t have to go out of your way for me. A peanut butter sandwich will do.”
“No jelly?” Vince’s green eyes were filled with humor.
“Jelly is slimy and disgusting.” Maltese removed his shoes. The wine-colored carpeting was plush and looked brand-new. He didn’t want to track any dirt on it.
Vince went into the other room, and from where Maltese stood, he saw a fridge. After shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door, he followed and stepped into a brightly decorated kitchen. The walls were white, and the trim was yellow. Even the kitchen table was white. One side held chairs while the other side had a bench. The room wasn’t fancy, but it felt cozy. He took a seat and watched as Vince moved around the kitchen.
He pulled a few plastic containers from the fridge, popped the lids, and tossed them one at a time into the microwave. “I’m not the greatest cook, but I’m pretty sure my food won’t kill you.”
“I said you didn’t have to go out of your way.”
Vince grinned. “Dude, I’m microwaving food. That’s hardly breaking out the pots and pans and cluttering my counter with ingredients. I’m exerting very little effort here, but I might have strained something popping one of those lids.”
Maltese grinned. “I’m sorry you strained yourself.”
The room filled with the smell of spaghetti, and Maltese’s mouth watered. Even though Vince was reheating the food, Maltese couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. Most of the time he stuffed his face with fast food…or no food at all.
The grilled cheese and fries at the diner didn’t count. Maltese didn’t consider that a real meal. Not like the one Vince was heating for him.
Moments later Vince set a steaming plate of pasta in front of him. He set a small bowl of sauce to the side and went back for a fork and a pitcher of what looked like iced tea.
Maltese tried to remember his manners and eat like a civilized human being, but after the first taste of Vince’s cooking, he shoveled the pasta into his mouth like he had seconds to eat before his plate would be snatched away.
“Slow down,” Vince said. “No one’s gonna steal your food, and I don’t want you choking.”
Maltese wiped the sauce from his mouth with the paper towel Vince handed him. “Sorry. I normally don’t eat like a caveman.”
“You just don’t know when your next meal is gonna come.”
Maltese froze with his fork midway to his mouth. How the hell did Vince know his situation? Had he talked in his sleep? He couldn’t think of any other way the guy would know that he was homeless and broke.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As hungry as he still was, Maltese pushed his plate aside and stood. “I really need to get going.”
“Hey.” Vince jumped up and held his hands up. “It’s cool. Okay. I’m not judging you. I promise.” He waved a hand at the table. “Please, sit down and finish your food, or I’ll start to think you hate my cooking.”
Maltese honestly didn’t want to leave. He was still exhausted and wasn’t looking forward to finding either a vacant house to sleep in or some alleyway. The last time he’d been in an alley Taren had kidnapped him.
The demon might be locked away in the underworld, but Taren had had a lot of fanatics willing to rebel with him against the demon warriors, and Maltese didn’t want to run into any of them. They’d probably try and kill him for being involved in Taren’s takedown.
Maltese dropped back into his seat but tucked his hands between his knees. It wasn’t so much pride that was stopping him from finishing his food, but shame. Vince had a cushy life and probably didn’t know the first thing about hardship.
“Do I have to feed you?” One of Vince’s dark brows arched.
“Dude, I wish you would try.” Maltese glared at him. “I’m not a baby.”
“So stop acting as stubborn as one and eat.” Vince reached for Maltese’s fork, but Maltese snatched it up before the guy could get to it.
“Happy?” Maltese asked before taking another bite of the mouthwatering pasta.
“As a kid in a candy store.” Vince grinned. “You have to try my tea. I added some lemon to it.”
Was this guy for real? He seemed eager for Maltese’s praise. With a shrug, Maltese picked his glass up and took a swallow. Fuck, it was the best tea ever. “Mah, it’s okay.”
“You’re such a liar.” Vince stood, and Maltese checked out the guy’s ass when he crossed the room.
He sighed dreamily, wishing someone like Vince would want someone like him. Maltese was nothing more than a street rat, and Vince was a deputy, an upstanding member of his community. There was no way he’d get involved with Maltese except to help out a poor soul in need.
He felt as though he was tarnishing Vince just by being near him.
“And to top off your meal, monsieur.” He set a small plate on the table that held a slice of lemon cake. The artwork on the cake looked so decadent that Maltese’s sweet tooth ached. Vince had a plate for himself, too.
“Don’t get any ideas that I can bake.” Vince took a seat and sliced a piece with his fork. “I bought this at the bakery today. You gotta help me eat it so I don’t look like a pig.”
Why the hell did he find Vince so freaking charming? Vince had an almost boy-like quality about him that Maltese found irresistible. Vince’s smile made Maltese’s heart sigh, his laugh was like gold, and his playfulness refreshing.
Maltese grinned around his forkful of pasta. “I guess I can’t let you look like a pig.”
“That’s the spirit.” Instead of eating the piece on his fork, Vince held it out for Maltese to eat.
Maltese hesitated, unsure why the guy was being so darn nice. He sighed and ate the piece, his eyes rolling back at how good it was.
“Kenway and Ross know how to whip up miracles,” Vince said. “That’s why their bakery stays so packed all the time.”
Maltese watched Vince’s lips slide over the tines when he took a bite of his cake. Maltese g
roaned and then caught himself staring and looked away. Vince was just being nice, and Maltese was repaying his kindness with the dirtiest thoughts imaginable—like how those plump lips would feel sliding over his cock instead of that fork or how Vince’s cock would feel amazing sliding into Maltese’s ass.
He closed his eyes for a brief second to pull himself together.
“You know, I have a spare bedroom that you’re welcome to use.” Vince took another bite, and Maltese forced himself to concentrate on his spaghetti. He didn’t need the guy to catch him ogling him.
“Why would you go out of your way for me?” Maltese finished his pasta and then dove into his cake, his eyes rolling back once again at the heavenly taste.
“It’s good, right?”
Vince was avoiding the question. For now, Maltese let him. He was too busy savoring the slice of cake. Had Vince really offered his guest bedroom? For all he knew Maltese was a thief. Which he wasn’t, but Vince didn’t know that. The guy didn’t know anything about him, yet he was opening his home to a complete stranger.
“Oh my god, that hit the spot.” Vince leaned back in his chair and patted his rigid stomach. From the container Maltese had seen on the end table, he knew Vince had already eaten when he’d come home earlier.
Maltese took his dishes to the sink and rinsed them but was unsure what to do with them after that, so he left them in a neat stack in the sink.
Vince joined him, but when he rinsed his plate, he stuck it in the dishwasher, so Maltese grabbed his stack and did the same. The whole domestic thing was foreign to Maltese. Even when he’d lived at home, he was never forced to do chores, and since he’d been on his own, he hadn’t been in anyone’s home long enough to do the dishes. He borrowed someone’s couch, slept a few hours, and then moved on. If Vince asked him to start the dishwasher, Maltese would be at a total loss.
“Let me show you to the guest bedroom.” Vince walked out of the kitchen with Maltese right behind him. They strolled down a hallway that contained four doors. Vince stopped at the first one to the right and opened it.