by Wendy Qualls
“Guess I’ll take Lumpy out for Scooter and Lito, then,” Dave said. “If y’all are okay with that? We can do Spot and Zeus as a second round and I’ll run Woozy at the end with whoever has the time to stay late.”
Scooter nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Lito didn’t have the first clue how a “two-man find” was supposed to work, other than the fact that it probably involved finding two people, but Scooter gave him an overview as they searched for a good spot. “Nobody’s walking with him?” Lito asked. “I thought we were supposed to always do this in pairs.”
“Eh.” Scooter shrugged. “Dave’s dogs are too old to go on real searches anymore—Lumpy is nearly blind in one eye, and Woozy’s arthritis doesn’t leave her enough stamina for the long stuff these days. He mostly just brings them to practices so they can socialize with the rest of the pack.”
“They don’t act their age, then,” Lito said. The memory of the two Rottweilers chasing each other at top speed around the field before practice was still a vivid one, given that they did it practically every week. “Crap. I didn’t push Dave into running them today, did I? I mean, Rick brought it up—”
“Dude, it’s fine. Chill.” Scooter stepped over a large downed tree trunk without even breaking his stride. Lito had to do a much less graceful straddle-and-hop to clear it. “He does still run practice searches every once in a while, mostly to keep himself sharp. And I’d like to see you try to bully Dave into doing something he didn’t want to do. He’s like twice your size.”
Lito would have been more eager to argue if the damn log they were climbing over—well, that he’d climbed and Scooter had stepped over—hadn’t just reinforced the point. And, okay, maybe Dave wasn’t twice Lito’s size, but he did have a good ten inches and probably eighty pounds on him and those eighty pounds were all muscle. The idea of pushing the guy around a bit had some serious appeal, though. Straddling him in the dark was one thing, but to really do the job right…
“None of us are really in a great position to give him pointers, other than Rick,” Scooter added, oblivious. “He doesn’t need anyone to shadow him and Lumpy, though, so it’s really not a big deal. I’ve got your cell number and I know he does too—text one of us if something goes wrong. Or if it’s after midnight and he hasn’t found you yet.”
“Oh ha ha.” Lito paused next to another fallen tree, this one probably two feet across. It was propped against its neighbors at a low angle but had a huge root ball still stuck to the end. The resulting wall of dirt was big enough to easily hide either of them. “Behind this, maybe?”
Scooter shook his head. “I wanna screw with him,” he said with a grin. “Keep him from getting lazy. How are you at climbing?”
Lito had absolutely zero experience climbing trees so the answer turned out to be “not very good.” They did manage to get him installed about eight feet off the ground, where the top of the tree had gotten tangled up in a larger one when it fell. Eight feet looked a hell of a lot higher from a tree than it did from anywhere else. Christ, he was going to fall if he didn’t keep completely still and hang on tight.
“You’re fine,” Scooter assured him, politely not saying anything snarky about how Lito was clutching one of the larger branches. “High finds are great—your scent comes down in a cone shape like this, see?” He delineated a vague curved line several feet away. “It makes a circle around you and drifts outward as it falls but doesn’t actually go straight down. Confusing as hell for the dog, so it’s the handler’s responsibility to be paying attention and to look up. I think on my last one I did four or five laps of the tree before Sharon laughed out loud and I finally saw her. Really damn embarrassing, but it’s a good reminder to always pay attention because your dog can’t do all the work for you.” He stepped back and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, you good up there?”
Lito nodded. He hadn’t broken his neck yet, at least.
“I’m gonna find me a ground spot a bit further on, then. I’ll text Dave when I’m ready—probably five minutes or so.”
Lito maneuvered gingerly into a fork between two of the still-living tree’s branches and hugged his knees to his chest. Something solid on each side helped quell the I’m-going-to-tip-over-and-crack-my-head-open feeling. He was wearing olive jeans and his favorite dark brown jacket, not the fluorescent green NALSAR team coat, so he’d be camouflaged and hopefully not too cold. And now that he was settled in his makeshift nest, all he could think about was that Dave wanted to get naked with him again.
It was really hard to decide whether that was a surprise or not. Before the call-out, Lito had been confused as hell by Dave’s signals—the dude read “straight-arrow, redneck, macho Army type,” but he hadn’t once pulled a “no homo” even though Lito had literally been wearing a rainbow-shaped earring stud and a tight pink shirt the day they met. Maybe it had just seemed too much like wishful thinking, to imagine Dave being into dudes. Especially dudes like Lito, so much his polar opposite in so many ways. And yet.
And yet.
They’d gotten each other off while lying in the back of Dave’s Jeep, watching the stars together. They’d practically cuddled afterward. How cliché could they get?
Thanks to the uneven terrain and the fact that the trees were only just—now that it was November—thinking about shedding their leaves, Lito couldn’t see the source of the crashing he gradually realized he was hearing. Lumpy wasn’t exactly subtle, though. Being half blind obviously didn’t slow her down much. She was on her third full-speed pass across Lito’s limited field of vision when Dave caught up to her. Lumpy bounced in a circle around him, paused to touch her nose to his hand, then took off at a much more sedate speed to run laps around the base of the tree. As close as she could get, at least—the downed tree plus the underbrush beyond it made for some extremely large and lumpy circles.
Lito held himself very still, trying to not even breathe loudly, but it didn’t matter. Dave watched Lumpy’s confusion for only about a lap and a half before looking up and catching Lito’s eye.
“Nice,” he said, amusement and approval clear on his face. “Give her a sec to catch on.”
Lumpy did, eventually. It was fascinating to watch a fully trained dog work, aging nose or no—she was clearly adjusting her path based on Dave’s body language, even while he was deliberately not “finding” Lito yet. Eventually she looked up, saw him, and screeched to a halt. She then launched herself at Dave’s waist.
“Oof.” Dave doubled over, avoiding what would probably have been a painful two-paw shot to the groin, but stood up again immediately. “Where is he?” he asked in a sing-song voice. “Show me!”
Lumpy ran another, tighter lap of Lito’s tree, then sat and stared at Dave until he came over and reached up to touch Lito’s boot.
“Good girl! You’re such a good girl!” He pulled a treat from his pocket and cooed at her excitedly until she’d had enough. When she shied away from the ear scratches and started wandering off to sniff things all on her own, Dave heaved himself back to his feet and looked up at Lito critically. “I know you and I haven’t covered high finds yet,” he said with an easy hand on his hip, “but you picked a good one.”
“It was Scooter’s idea,” Lito admitted. “And my first tree-climbing experience. City boy, remember.”
“I get to be your first? Aww, that’s sweet,” Dave teased. “Am I wrong in guessing you may need help getting down?”
The angle of the fallen tree didn’t look any more welcoming in reverse than it had on the way up. “Probably not”
“Mmm.” Dave’s grin turned wicked. “What do I get if I volunteer to help?”
That definitely sounded like flirting, and was much more familiar territory than climbing trees would ever be. “I may be stuck up a tree,” Lito countered, “but I can still blow up your phone from here if you walk away and leave me. The signal’s not that terrible.”
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Dave laughed, which drew Lumpy’s attention again. “Was going to hold out for a kiss, but I guess threats work too. How’s your balance?”
They ended up with Lito inching back out onto the angled trunk and dangling his feet over the edge. Dave could just about reach Lito’s knees while standing on tiptoe.
“Come on, jump.”
Lito eyed the drop. “I’m gonna kick you in the face with these big honkin’ hiking boots you made me buy,” he warned.
“I can take it.” Dave adopted an exaggerated leer, spoiled by the fact that he couldn’t quite keep in his laughter. “Always wanted to rescue the damsel in distress. Come on.”
Damsel? “Screw you.”
“Deal.” Dave tugged at Lito’s ankle just as Lito shifted his weight forward, which meant Lito toppled off the tree facedown instead of executing the graceful jump he’d been envisioning in his head. Dave caught him under the armpits and smoothly swung him down to the ground…and then further, so Lito was bent backwards over Dave’s knee like a fainting medieval heroine. “The screwing is for after dinner on Friday, though,” Dave murmured. “In the meantime a kiss would be appropriate, don’t you agree?”
Their faces were only inches apart. Dave’s breath smelled like peppermint. Lito didn’t even bother nodding, just yanked Dave’s mouth down to his own and did his best to kiss the living daylights out of him. It was going pretty well until there was suddenly a warm, wet something directly in his face.
“Blech! Lumpy!” Dave sputtered. He did help Lito back to his feet, though. Lumpy licked Lito again, totally unrepentant—although this time she only slobbered on his hand, which was an improvement.
“Thanks,” Lito said, straightening his shirt. “Could have done without the surprise finish, though.”
“Oh, I’m not finished with you. Not by a long shot.” Dave’s expression promised all sorts of wicked fun. “We’ll have to come back to this later, though, or Scooter will come searching for us. He’s not as good at it when he doesn’t have Cheerio along.”
Chapter 9
It was hell, having to wait for Friday so he didn’t appear too eager. Dave spent the rest of the week zoning out at the most inappropriate times. There was nothing feminine about Lito, but it was still a heady feeling to be able to literally catch the guy and manhandle him a bit. Lito had been just the right combination of surprised, intrigued, and pliant to make Dave’s imagination work overtime. Overtime and nighttime and most of the time when he was on the clock. Just as well he got to stay behind his desk for most of Friday and catch up on paperwork—Mike would tease him until they both retired if he noticed the hard-on straining against Dave’s jeans all day.
We still on for dinner? What time and where?
Like Dave hadn’t been stressing about that too. Black Lake did have some decent restaurants, even some “date” spots, but the more selfish side of Dave didn’t want to share Lito with anyone for even the duration of a meal.
7:00? he wrote back. 1622 Courtland Lane.
Even if Lito wasn’t already comfortable navigating his way around Black Lake—and didn’t have Google street view, for some reason—Dave’s house was hard to miss. Mostly because it was way out in the country and Lumpy and Woozy would probably be falling all over themselves with excitement in the fenced side yard before Lito’s car even made it up the drive. They took their roles as “protector and greeter” seriously.
Dave made himself stay at work through his scheduled 4:30 and not a minute sooner, mostly to set a good example for the other guys in his department, but he was out of there at breakneck speed afterward. A quick trip to Publix for some cooking essentials and he was home and showered by 5:30. It left him plenty of time to figure out if there was anything difficult about making shrimp Alfredo. He’d never be a great cook, by any standard—definitely not compared to how his mother could magically transform just about anything into deliciousness—but any idiot was capable of pasta. In theory.
At 6:58, Dave had to admit his confidence had maybe been a bit misplaced. The fettuccine came out fine, and the sauce was from a jar so “cooking” that was merely a question of heating it up, but the shrimp were proving a bit difficult. As in, “forgot to check at the store if they were already peeled instead of still in the shells” difficult. He was halfway through massacring both the bowl of defrosted shrimp and his favorite list of Army endearments, when Lumpy and Woozy took up their chorus of “A car is here! A car is here!” from their run outside.
“Sorry,” Dave said as he let Lito in. “It’s taken me a bit longer to get dinner ready than I’d planned.”
Lito waved his apology away. “You never told me you cooked. Or that you had such a great place. You’re really way out here, aren’t you? I bet your pups love all the room.”
“Ten acres.” Dave took Lito’s jacket and ushered him toward the kitchen. “I lease the field to my neighbor who’s an actual farmer, but I’ve got a nice stocked pond out back for fishing and nobody so close they’re looking in my bedroom windows. I’m not claiming to be a cook, though.” His kitchen was original to the farmhouse, dated seventies cabinets and all, and it was probably obvious he didn’t spend more time in it than he had to. It was functional and not much more. “Drink? I’ve got water, Coke, beer, orange juice, and whatever kind of wine cooler my mother stocked me up on when she was here last.”
Lito laughed. “Water’s fine. And good cook or not, dinner smells delicious. Anything I can do to help?”
Dave eyed the small pile of pink shells on the kitchen island. “How do you feel about peeling shrimp?”
Between the two of them they made short work of the rest of the bowl. Dave sautéed them just long enough they wouldn’t be cold anymore, then dished up two plates of thankfully not-rubbery-yet fettuccine and handed over Lito’s so he could portion his own shrimp and sauce. They settled in at the little table in the breakfast nook overlooking the backyard.
“This looks fantastic,” Lito said with sincerity. “I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight, but—in case you’re worried—I’m enjoying myself already.”
He did seem thoroughly at ease, which in turn helped Dave relax a bit. “I haven’t had anyone new over in ages,” he admitted. “Nobody except Rick and Sharon or my family, anyway. This may shock you, but I’m not usually a big socializer. I don’t object to large groups of people, necessarily, but that doesn’t mean I seek them out.”
Lito nodded, which Dave took to mean he understood. “Not everyone is,” he said. “Is your family nearby?”
“Near enough. My parents are about half an hour away and my brothers ended up another hour or two beyond that, in separate directions.”
“How many siblings?”
“One older brother and one younger. I’d call them my big brother and my little brother, but they’re both bigger than me. Unlikely as that may be.”
The conversation about his family carried them through the rest of the meal. Lito contributed a few anecdotes about his own childhood as an only kid surrounded by cousins, but reciprocal stories about his parents were noticeably absent. Dave didn’t mention that he’d noticed.
“So.” Lito leaned back in his seat and put his fork down with a clink on his empty plate. “Can I help with dishes, or…”
“Leave them,” Dave decided. “Or rather, let’s just stick our plates in the sink on our way to the den and I’ll sort them out later.” Suddenly his plan of dinner, then sex seemed to have a glaring gap in the middle. Namely the need for a smooth transition, in the sense that he didn’t have one. “There’s, um. I’ve got some movies, if you want to look?”
“Netflix and chill? Not what I expected from you.” Lito grinned. “I’m in no hurry to rush home, though, so sure. Pick something you don’t mind missing the end of.” He winked and wandered out of the kitchen to go plop down on the sofa. “Although I’ll give you a heads-up—you really don’t need
to wine and dine me to get me out of my pants. However much you think you’ve been reminiscing about this past weekend, I can guarantee you I’ve been doing the same thing. And I am one hundred percent looking forward to playing around some more if that’s on the table. Figuratively, anyway—we’d probably have to do dishes first for that.”
Dave wasn’t usually one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Something about Lito’s carefully easygoing tone sounded odd, though. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Since he was hoping for sex, or at least something in that general direction, it would have been stupid to suddenly drag his feet now. Still… “I’m going to let Lumpy and Woozy in before it gets too cold outside, if that won’t bother you? They’ve got a heated shelter in their run but usually they’d both rather sack out on the sofa in here. Or,” he amended, “they’d sack out on my bed if I didn’t close the bedroom door. They’re not supposed to get up there unless I specifically invite them, but Lumpy thinks I don’t notice.”
“Spot does the same—I’ve given up trying to keep her from hogging the whole lower part of the mattress. It’s just as well I’m short and don’t need much leg room.” Lito cocked his head to one side and shot Dave a calculating look from across the length of the den. “I guess the question is, then,” he said, “would you rather we keep them off the sofa, or off the bed?”
Bed. Definitely bed. If Lito was so determined to get down to the sexy part of the evening as fast as possible, it was much better to have space to enjoy it. “Give me a sec,” Dave said, and quickly went to let Lumpy and Woozy in through the garage. They snuffled around in the kitchen for a minute, no doubt picking up on all the lovely particles of Lito’s scent wafting around. In the end, though, the sofa proved adequate to catch their attention. So much for the half hour he’d spent with a lint roller, trying to get all the fur off. By the time Dave got their water bowl topped up and came back to the den, the sofa was empty of anyone except dogs and Lito had migrated to the bedroom. He was sprawled out over Dave’s quilt, still clothed in all except his shoes, but he looked playful. And adorable. Dave had a sudden urge to tickle him and see how he’d react. Not that he wasn’t sexy as hell too—some primitive instinct Dave hadn’t even realized he possessed was crowing at the sight of Lito in his territory—but it really would be nice if Lito were willing to stick around afterward. Maybe they could watch a movie, snuggle on the couch, throw a ball for Lumpy and Woozy, and laugh at how the pair acted like puppies who couldn’t control their own limbs when a game of fetch came into play. If Lito stayed the night, they could enjoy sleepy morning sex and Dave could attempt eggs and bacon for breakfast. (Although would Lito even eat bacon? It probably counted as red meat…maybe toast, then. Or pancakes. If he was feeling brave enough to try and Lito was brave enough to eat his cooking again.)