by Lynn Hagen
“What about your food?”
Mason shrugged. “Can you have Halo box it up for me? I’ll stop by later and pick it up.”
Jordan nodded. “I can have him do that.”
“Thanks.” Mason hesitated. “Hope you don’t mind me saying so, but damn if I don’t want to kiss you right now.”
Heat scorched Jordan’s cheeks. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen from the counter and scribbled his number down. “Call me after you handle whatever’s wrong. Maybe we can still have a bite to eat.”
Mason grinned and tucked the napkin into his shirt pocket. “I’ll do that.”
Jordan still felt flushed as Mason strode from the bar. Max took Mason’s stool. “Wow, that blush is red-hot.”
“Shut up.” Jordan turned back around. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Nope.” Max looked back at the table where their crew sat. “Was about to head out. There’s a lake off Pond Road. Wanna go swimming?”
Jordan wrinkled his nose. “Are you trying to ask if I wanna go skinny-dipping with you?”
Max laughed. “Hell no. Keep your damn underwear on. It’s just hot as hell and I could use the cooling off.”
Jordan was just teasing. They’d been good friends for six years and not once in all that time had Max ever indicated he was sexually interested in Jordan.
In fact, Jordan had suspected for a while now that Max’s heart belonged to Cory. Why Max had never made a move on him was anyone’s guess.
“Sure. Let’s go.” Jordan made sure to tell Halo about boxing up his and Mason’s food before he hurried out the door to catch up with Max.
Chapter Two
Mason was tired by the time he left the disturbance call. A teenage boy and his girlfriend had gotten into a heated argument. Sabrina Morris had called, pissed that her boyfriend had cheated on her and in hope that Mason would arrest Jackson Malloy. They were both eighteen and didn’t have a lick of sense between them.
He’d made Jackson take a walk while he tried to calm Sabrina down. Unfortunately, they lived together, so Mason couldn’t send Jackson home, but Jackson did gather some things before he left, saying he would stay with his uncle.
As if realizing he would really leave, Sabrina begged him not to go, and Mason had been at his wits’ end. He was pretty sure she’d called Jackson before Mason had even pulled from the driveway.
But he’d take dramatic young love any day over what he’d done before coming to Wildfire. Putting his life in jeopardy on a constant basis, then dealing with the adrenaline dump afterward had worn Mason down. He felt older than his thirty-five years.
Mason pulled to the side of the road and grabbed the napkin from his pocket, debating whether to call Jordan or just pick up his food and go home. No doubt Jordan needed to rest up for an early start at his job tomorrow, but Mason couldn’t resist.
He dialed and listened to the phone ring as he scanned the open fields just beyond the town limits.
“Jordan Dalton.”
Mason grinned at the professional way Jordan answered his phone. “You in for the night?”
Mason heard laughter in the background and then a big splash.
“Just decompressing,” Jordan said. “But no, I’m not at home.”
The laugh had been masculine and deep.
“Get off the phone, Jordan,” someone said. “We’re supposed to be having fun.”
Mason curled his fingers around his phone at the thought of Jordan being with another man not long after he and the electrician had spent time together at Gallagher’s.
“I see I’ve caught you at a bad time.”
“Just cooling off at the lake with a friend,” Jordan explained. “It’s not a bad time.”
The tension in Mason’s chest uncoiled. Unless Jordan was into having sex with his friends, this situation wasn’t what he’d thought. “I finished that call. I was heading to Gallagher’s to pick up my food and wondered if you were available.”
“Is everything all right?” Jordan asked. “With that call?”
“Yeah, just a spat.”
“I can meet you there.”
“No way. I’m not going back right now,” the friend said in the background.
“I can pick you up,” Mason offered. He really wanted to see Jordan again. He’d felt a spark between them right down to his toes, and he’d seen the attraction in Jordan’s light brown eyes, too. Heart-pounding attraction and chemistry.
“Do you know where the lake is?” Jordan made a noise that sounded like a short laugh. “I suppose you don’t since you’re new here.”
Mason grinned as he listened to Jordan’s instructions. “Be there in a minute.”
“Okay.” Jordan hung up.
Mason had to put the directions into the GPS on his dash, but he found the lake without a hitch. When he pulled up, Jordan was pulling his shirt down over his head, but not before Mason saw the spattering of dark hair on his chest.
His gaze fixated on Jordan’s dark Italian looks. He had short black hair and was a wet dream on two legs. Mason had had his fair share of lovers over the years, but none interested him the way Jordan did.
Jordan jogged to the car with his boots in his hands and got into the front seat.
“Or would you prefer I sit in the back?”
Mason wasn’t sure if he was teasing. “Not unless being gorgeous is illegal.”
He gave one last look at Jordan’s friend and recognized him from Gallagher’s.
“I’m kinda glad you called. I had Halo hold both our dinners, and now I’m starving.” Jordan stuck his feet into his boots and laced them.
He smelled like water, crisp and clean. “I’m glad I called, too. Couldn’t stop thinking about you after I left.”
Jordan’s hands stilled. He looked up at Mason. “I think I should make this clear up front. I’m not looking for anything more than friendship.”
The statement disappointed Mason but made him curious, as well. He knew Jordan felt that zing between them. Why was he backing down? “Friendship’s fine.”
Jordan smiled and Mason felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. He wanted to kiss Jordan so badly that the ache was physical.
“Good. Now I don’t feel so much pressure.”
“You felt pressured?” Mason didn’t understand why. “Did I come on too strong or something?”
Normally Mason new what he wanted and went for it. But with Jordan, he hadn’t done that. Mason had lived on the edge for so many years that pussyfooting around with men wasn’t his style. He’d learned working ops that he could die at any time, so he should live for the moment.
That philosophy had run off a hell of a lot of men. Men who might’ve been good for him. Now that he wasn’t traveling the globe chasing down the government’s most wanted, he wanted something more permanent.
And Jordan was that something. He’d just have to take things slow, ease Jordan into whatever was sparking between them.
“No, you didn’t come on strong,” Jordan said. “I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself when meeting new people. It’s a quirk I have. It sometimes makes me seem like an asshole.”
“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” Mason pulled in front of Gallagher’s and cut the motor. “So far you seem like a nice guy.”
“That’s because you don’t know me,” Jordan mumbled as he got out.
Now what in the hell did that mean?
The following morning Mason was at the station early. The deputy Dagger had spoken of had arrived. Drake Winslow had worked as a bodyguard for one of the town’s investors until recently. He’d gone back to Virginia to square away his life there before returning to Wildfire.
Drake had a background in law enforcement and had served in the marines. Mason was just glad to have some help. Having an entire department quit because the town would be known as an LGBTQ community still pissed him off, but he’d made do.
Well, not everyone had quit. Lindsey Morse, the receptionist, had sta
yed on. She was the sweetest person, with big brown eyes and a winning smile. Lindsey had told Blade that she was a lesbian, and was excited about the changes to Wildfire, hoping someday to find her perfect someone.
She wasn’t the only one.
“You must be Sheriff Camden.” Drake shook his hand.
“The one and only,” Mason said. “You excited to start work?”
Drake chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t exactly call it excited, but I’m ready to get started.”
Lindsey handed Mason a Post-it note. “Mr. Gardener wants to you to stop by city hall when you have a minute.”
“Thanks, Linds.” Mason stuffed the paper into his pocket without looking at it.
“I’m told my uniforms are already here?”
Mason nodded, thankful the uniforms were dark blue instead of the traditional brown most small-town law enforcement personnel wore. He looked horrible in brown and always felt as if he should be delivering packages when he wore it instead of shooting someone.
“They’re hanging in the locker room.”
“Then I guess I better get dressed.”
“He seems nice,” Lindsey said when Drake headed toward the back of the station. “He’s cute, too.”
“I thought you liked girls?” Mason teased.
She slapped his arm. “I’m not blind. I know a good-looking man when I see one.” Lindsey winked at him. “You’re a stud muffin, too, but don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Mason slid his thumb and index finger across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.”
He spent the remainder of the morning going over paperwork with Drake. By the time lunch rolled around, Mason was starving.
Mason was tempted to call Jordan, but he decided against it. He didn’t want Jordan to think he was coming on too strong.
Even though Jordan had put on the brakes, Mason still planned on finding out just where that spark led.
“Is it that bad?” Jordan stood on the sidewalk in front of the bungalow he was still working on, his phone pressed to his ear.
“I’ve tried talking to Michael, but he isn’t hearing me,” his mom said. “He swears there’s a dog chasing him around the house, Jordan. You know we don’t have a dog.”
Jordan’s brother had been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. He was a lot older than Jordan, in his late forties. Their parents had had Jordan late in life, and although he and his brother were twenty years apart, he had once been close to Michael.
“He hasn’t been taking his medications. I’ve tried giving them to him, but he refuses. He said they make his head too foggy and he feels like a zombie, plus he gains too much weight when he takes them.”
Jordan cursed. Michael had been a happy man until about seven years ago. A divorce and the loss of his job had sent him spiraling, and over the years, his bipolar had slowly gotten worse, sending Michael into a deep depression.
Michael only got the help he needed after he’d tried to take his own life. Refusing to take his medications would only send him back down that dark road.
It didn’t help that his ex-wife was a total bitch who manipulated Michael at every turn. They had a son together, which meant Michael couldn’t completely cut her out of his life, and she used the boy against him every chance she could get.
“I’m not even in Virginia,” Jordan said. “Where’s Dad?”
“You know his heart isn’t strong enough to deal with Michael when he’s like this. The stress only makes his heart condition worse when Michael is off his medications.”
“I can’t do anything, Mom. Unless he does something that puts you or Dad in harm’s way, all you can do is encourage him to get back on his meds.” Jordan wished he were there, but was glad he wasn’t. Seeing Michael this way wasn’t a pretty sight, and he sometimes got violent.
More than once Jordan had been hurt trying to help with his brother. Still, Michael lived with their elderly parents, and Jordan was worried about them. Although he’d never touched their parents, if Michael flew into one of his rages, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves.
“He gets so mad when I talk to him about taking his pills,” she said.
“He gets mad regardless, Mom. Call his therapist, please. He needs to see her.”
“Okay, I’ll call Dr. Brown.”
“Call me back and let me know what she says.” Jordan hung up and paced up and down the sidewalk, his stomach tied in knots.
“Everything okay?” Darien asked as he approached.
“Michael.” That was all Jordan had to say. Darien knew the situation with his brother. Hell, Darien and the other guys had rushed to Jordan’s parents’ house on more than one occasion to help when Michael had lost control.
Jordan knew the illness wasn’t Michael’s fault, but it had worn him down over the years, and that was one of the reasons he’d jumped at the chance to work in Ohio. He’d needed the break.
Still, he felt guilty for leaving his parents to deal with their eldest son. His mother insisted on taking care of Michael herself, and that was the crux of the problem. Jordan had told her years ago to put him someplace where he could have full-time care, but she’d insisted on taking care of Michael herself.
Darien shook his head. “Sorry, man. If you need to take off, I understand.”
If Jordan took off every time Michael had a meltdown, he wouldn’t have a job. “My mom’s gonna call his therapist to get her to talk to him.”
“Good,” Darien said. “I hope the hospital keeps him. You know I like Michael, but he doesn’t need to be living at home with your parents.”
Jordan already knew that. He tucked his phone into his pocket and got back to work, waiting for his mom to call back.
Mason had gone to the house to see if Jordan wanted to have lunch. He’d tried to talk himself out of going, but he found himself weaving through the streets to where he knew Jordan would be.
He parked at the curb and watched Jordan pace the sidewalk. Something was wrong. His body held too much tension as he talked on the phone. When he hung up, Darien came over and started to speak to Jordan.
When Darien walked away, Mason got out and approached Jordan. Jordan’s shoulders were tight and his movements were jerky. When Jordan turned and looked at him, Mason saw tears ready to spill.
“Are you okay?” Mason knew he wasn’t, but it was a knee-jerk question.
Jordan had to clear his throat a few times before he could speak. “Just some trouble at home. Why are you here?”
Mason felt foolish now, like he was disturbing a private moment. A lie formed in his head, but he decided to go with the truth. “Wanted to see if you were interested in lunch.”
Jordan shook his head. “I don’t have an appetite.”
Darien came over and Mason thought he would say something about Mason disturbing Jordan’s work. Mason had met Darien briefly when he’d stopped at city hall earlier. Darien had been in Matthew Honeywell’s office, and from the flushed look on both men’s faces, Mason could easily tell what they’d been doing behind closed doors.
Darien shook Mason’s hand. “Is there a problem, Sheriff Camden?”
“Just stopping by to see if Jordan wanted to have lunch.”
“They’ve already taken their lunch.” Darien looked from Mason to Jordan. “But I can give him some time if you two need to talk.”
Mason picked up on the silent message there. Darien thought hanging with Mason might help Jordan with whatever was bothering him. Mason wasn’t so sure about that. He hardly knew Jordan, and wasn’t sure the guy would open up to him.
“I have too much to do,” Jordan said.
“I’ll pick up the slack,” Darien said. “Go for a ride and clear your head.”
Jordan threw his hammer down and stormed off in the opposite direction of Mason’s patrol car.
“I know we don’t know each other,” Darien said to Mason. “But I’ve heard from the guys that you and Jordan have spent some time together. I’m hoping you can help, though I
might be overstepping my boundaries.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Darien shook his head. “That’s not my story to tell.”
Mason stared incredulously at him. “You want me to help, but you’re sending me in blind?”
Darien chuckled. His smile made him ten times more handsome. “Sorry. I’ve been on the receiving end of blindly helping someone. I don’t mean to do that to you, but I’d rather you talk to Jordan about his problems.”
“Just as long as he doesn’t try to shoot me for sticking my nose in his business.” Mason wasn’t so sure he wanted to. He’d had enough stress in the past, and all he wanted now was to enjoy his slow-paced life. He glanced down the street to see Jordan walking with angry strides.
Mason cursed and took off after him. When he caught up to him, he pulled Jordan to a stop by grabbing his upper arm.
“Don’t.” He jerked from Mason’s touch. “I’m not very good company right now.”
Mason dropped his hand. “Then take a ride with me. We don’t even have to talk. The fresh air on a country road will do you some good.”
Jordan headed into the street, walking straight toward Mason’s cruiser.
Chapter Three
They ended up back at Mason’s place. That hadn’t been his intention, but when Jordan had gotten into his car, Mason’s stomach had rumbled. He really had been hungry when he’d stopped by to see if Jordan had wanted to go to lunch. Because he knew Jordan wasn’t much for company, Mason decided against Gallagher’s.
“You need a dog,” Jordan said as he stepped into Mason’s house. “For some reason, it feels like a dog should be greeting me right now.”
Mason smiled at the fact that Jordan was slowly climbing out of his funk, although he had yet to tell Mason what put him there in the first place. “What breed?”
Jordan’s gaze started at the top of Mason’s head and slid down his body. He knew Jordan was simply studying him to figure out what breed would fit him best, but that look had Mason’s cock perking right up and taking notice. “Definitely a big one. Not an ankle-bitter. Maybe a German shepherd or Rottweiler.”