Wranglers: Discovery

by Vivien Dean

  Nothing until that kiss.

  Perhaps what bothered Derek more were the accusations Sam had leveled at him before walking away. Chemistry Derek denied. Derek's inability to hear what was being said to him. It bothered him because it was partially true. The lack of attention part, anyway. He always assumed the worst with Sam, because frankly, the worst was what he usually got. They had been opponents for two months. Sam had pulled more than one fast one throughout the course of the trial. It made perfect sense for Derek to suspect the worst.

  Yet, Sam hadn't contacted him since. He'd honored his promise not to bother Derek again, though he'd probably expected not to have to after their drink. He'd likely seen it as a kind of date, which Derek didn't understand. He'd never encouraged Sam. He'd never intimated wanting anything more. He hadn't wanted anything more, but what Sam's final words had forced him to consider was why he had reacted so strongly to Sam in the first place. Derek's personal life had always been simple. He didn't have long-term relationships. Most people didn't want driven workaholics as a partner, and the fact that he refused to wear some gay pride banner every time he went out turned off a lot of men in the Bay Area. It didn't stop them from sex, but beyond that, Derek was on his own. It was a status quo he'd come to accept over the years. Derek was fine with that. Simple and unencumbered was good.

  Sam Kimball was anything but simple. He was brash and bold, argumentative and arrogant. He was the antithesis of everything Derek had always professed to admire, at least superficially, and yet, he'd preoccupied Derek's thoughts from the first moment they met like nobody else he had ever known. With a week's distance from the kiss, he could admit now he found Sam attractive. Perhaps that had fueled his frustrations from the beginning, perhaps not. Either way, Sam wasn't entirely wrong about his suppositions.

  And now he'd added even more fodder to Derek's confusion with this referral.

  Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Sam's private line. He'd programmed both the cell and Sam's office when it had become clear the builder case would be a dirty one, and the irony that he hadn't erased them yet didn't escape him as he hit send. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes while he waited for Sam to pick up.

  "Well, this is a surprise," came Sam's pleased drawl.

  "Really? Even after you referred Zoe Barragan to me?"

  "Did she finally see you? I told her two weeks ago she needed to get you on her team."

  Low murmurs of conversation came through the background, along with the occasional tinkle of glass. Sam was in a late lunch meeting. He'd picked up anyway. And...

  He'd referred Barragan two weeks ago?

  "That was before the judgment came down," Derek said, incredulous.

  "Yeah? So? Just because that one came back in my favor doesn't mean you're not still the best man for her case."

  "Some would disagree."

  "I'm not some."

  "What are you playing at here, Sam?"

  A long drawn-out sigh. "Are we back to this song and dance? Because I'm in the middle of something here, and if you're just going to waste my time with more threats and deliberate misunderstandings, I'm going to hang up and get back to my salmon before it gets any colder."

  Further proof he intended to honor their agreement.

  The only problem with that was Derek wanted to talk about this.

  "What about if we meet tonight? I'm free at seven."

  Sam's silence made him want to take back the offer. Especially when it dragged from a few seconds into nearly a minute.

  "Look--"

  "Are you serious, Derek?"

  He recognized that sound in Sam's voice. It was called hope. Small and fragile, but hope nonetheless. If he wanted this to be truly over, the best way was to rescind the offer and laugh in the face of Sam's optimism.

  He ground his teeth before saying, "Yeah, I'm serious. Seven at Luna Park. You in or out?"

  "I'm in. I'll see you at seven."

  Derek disconnected and tossed the phone onto his desk. Maybe he should've suggested a drink instead of dinner. It would be shorter, but Luna Park was more conducive to a private conversation. Mostly comfort food on the menu kept it from being anything resembling a date--which it wasn't--and he could write it off as a business expense if it turned into another disaster like Satori.

  He glanced at his watch. One-fifty.

  It was going to be a long day.

  * * * *

  Parking in the Mission was always a bitch, so Derek took a cab that dropped him off right in front of the restaurant. Luna Park wasn't the biggest or the best in the area, but it had a dark ambience that often appealed to Derek when he wanted to escape for a little while. He'd once brought a date here who'd teased him unmercifully for thinking someplace so busy and so cramped--his word, not Derek's--could be an escape. He'd never asked the guy out again.

  The night was starting to get chilly, so even though he was a few minutes early, Derek walked in and let the hostess know he was there for his seven o'clock reservation.

  "I can seat you now, if you'd like," she said.

  "No, I'll just..." His voice faded. He'd intended on waiting at the bar for Sam to show up, but lo and behold, there was the man in question, smiling away, blue eyes dancing as he nodded toward Derek. "The rest of my party seems to be here already," he amended. "So, yes, sitting now would be great."

  In the time it took her to grab a couple menus, Sam came to his side, his drink in his hand. "You're early."

  "You're earlier."

  He had the overwhelming urge to hold out his hand to shake Sam's. Habit from all those meetings, he guessed. Instead, he stuffed it into his coat pocket and followed the hostess to the rear of the room, with Sam right on his heels.

  "I was a little surprised to hear from you today," Sam said when they were alone.

  Derek didn't bother with the menu. He already knew what he was going to order. "Not as surprised as I was to hear you were the one who referred Dr. Barragan."

  "I told you why I did that. I'm sure she told you why."

  "It still doesn't make sense to me."

  Sam sighed and put his menu down. "Why do you have this block when it comes to believing me? We're not on a case. I've got nothing to gain by referring a friend to you. Why does there have to be an ulterior motive?"

  "Because that's the way we work."

  "When we're working for a client, sure. But that's not the way I play when I'm a free agent."

  "You had an ulterior motive to asking me out for a drink last week."

  Sam grimaced. "No, I didn't. I told you up front I was hoping we could be friends. You just chose to forget about that once things went all cockeyed."

  He wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy. "But that's not all you wanted."

  "No, it's not, but I was willing to start at the ground and climb my way up. Done it my whole life, after all. No reason to mess with something that works."

  Sam's tone remained easy, his smile staying firmly in place. But when he reached for his water, his grip was almost white-knuckled on the glass, his fingertips not smearing a path in the condensation but instead creating definitive oblong marks. All talk, all nerves. That wasn't the Sam Kimball he knew.

  The waitress showed up before Derek could figure out how to respond. When he placed his order, Sam guffawed and said, "Macaroni and cheese? Really?"

  "Single best reason to come here," Derek replied.

  "If I wanted mac and cheese, I wouldn't waste fifteen bucks on it. I'd pull it off the shelf at home."

  "Suit yourself. But you'll never know what you're missing if you don't try it."

  Sam regarded him warily. Then, without looking at the waitress, he said, "I'll have the same. Thanks."

  An awkward silence settled between them once they were left alone. Derek wasn't sure what to say at this point. If this was a date, he'd start pressing for personal information, exploring common interests, all the regular bullshit that happened when
he was getting to know someone. If this was a business meeting, he'd be talking about the case, and the client, and all the stuff that went hand in hand with that. But this wasn't a date, and their case was resolved, so Derek didn't know what to label it. Friends hanging out? Except they weren't friends.

  So what else was left?

  "Look." Derek took a deep breath. He'd had a feeling things would come to this after spending the bulk of the afternoon playing baseball on his Wii and wondering what was going through Sam's head. "About what happened at Satori. I...might have overreacted a little bit. My head really wasn't in a good place after we got out of court, so...I'm sorry about that. I know you wouldn't have done what you did if I hadn't made you feel you couldn't get through to me any other way."

  His heart was in his throat while he waited for Sam to respond. Somehow. Make a joke. Say I told you so. Get angry that it took him a week to apologize. The wait was made even worse by the laser gaze resting on him, and Derek struggled not to squirm beneath it. Sam was the one who was supposed to be squirming. He always was in every possible scenario Derek imagined.

  "Sometimes I'm surprised I managed to wait as long as I did," Sam commented. "That was something I wanted to do for months now."

  "I think Judge Tavares might have had a few choice words if you'd tried that in court."

  "But you gotta admit, it might've made some of those testimonies a little more entertaining."

  Derek chuckled. "There were a few times I thought I might be able to base an appeal on the fact that Tavares slept through more than a couple."

  "Tavares? Hell, I was dozing there, and half of them were my witnesses."

  The common ground in their case came as a pleasant turn. Both men relaxed, though Derek wondered if Sam had even been aware of how tense he held himself. Sometimes, he thought he was the only one who noticed these things about Sam.

  "You did get some doozies. Did you put in overtime to make sure you had the one up on me?"

  "Nah. I love this city, but if I don't see some green every once in a while, I start climbing up the walls."

  "You must head north, then."

  "Sometimes. But most of the time, I go out to Mount Diablo."

  Mount Diablo was one of the most familiar landmarks in the Bay Area. Though it looked like it had double peaks from many angles, the second was actually North Peak, nearly as tall as its mate. It took a little drive to get out there, but the views were spectacular and more than worth it.

  "You hike?" That would explain the calluses on Sam's hands.

  "With these stubby legs?" Sam laughed. "No, depending on the weather, I'll either ride or cycle. I was thinking of signing up this year for the Challenge, but I'm not sure I've got the stamina to cycle all the way to the top."

  "Have you ever done it?"

  "Not on the bike. On Flossie, sure, but then she's doing all the hard work."

  "Flossie. Please tell me that's a horse."

  Another chuckle. "Prettiest little palomino you'll ever see. I bought her when I won my very first case."

  "That's better than what I got."

  "What was that?"

  "A Nintendo 64."

  "You waited until you won a case for that? Hell, I wouldn't have gotten through law school without Duke Nukem."

  "Do you still play?"

  "Not like I used to. But I like what you did, putting the Wii in your office. I'm going to have to try that."

  And though his comment reminded Derek of how he'd been boxing the day of the judgment and pretending he was pummeling Sam to a bloody pulp, their conversation continued at an amiable pace that took him completely by surprise. They chatted about video games and Sam's horse all the way until their appetizer arrived.

  "Your arteries must hate you," Sam joked. He snatched one of the pieces of grilled bread and dipped it into the warm goat cheese fondue. "You eat like this, you play video games when you're not in court, how do you not weigh four hundred pounds?"

  "I have my ways." He was stopped from elaborating by the sight of Sam popping the sticky bread into his mouth, a soft string of cheese clinging to his fingers. Sam sucked it away unconsciously, but the simple motion riveted Derek's gaze on his lips and the way they pursed. Had he never noticed the slight cupid's bow in the upper lip before? He couldn't have. He would've remembered a detail like that. He remembered everything else, after all. He watched the second bite, and the third, hardly aware of the nibbles he took himself. What he was aware of, though, was the hardening of his cock. With a mouth like that, he'd bet Sam sucked like a pro.

  "I can't believe I haven't been here before," Sam was saying.

  "They do a good weekend brunch, too." He needed to steer the topic back to something safe. "I recommend the French toast."

  "I'll remember that."

  Conversation lapsed as they worked at the fondue. It wasn't the awkward silence of before. Rather, Derek felt more at ease with Sam than he'd ever been.

  Except for the fact that he kept watching the man's mouth now, wondering how he would taste if Derek decided to try another kiss.

  When the macaroni-and-cheese arrived, he grinned when Sam leaned over and breathed in the delicious aroma. "Glad you ordered it now?"

  "If it tastes half as good as it smells, I just might've died and gone to heaven."

  They both dug into their food. "The first time I came here," Derek said between bites, "my parents brought me. It had only been open a couple months, and they saw a write-up in the paper about it. So they decided they were going to spend time bonding with me, over what they thought I would like."

  Sam stopped in mid-chew, frowned, then swallowed. "Even I don't think this place is your normal style, and I've only known you for a couple months."

  "Yeah, well, that puts you one step ahead of my parents. The Mission got yuppified a lot when the dot com biz boomed, so they had this really weird idea about what it was actually like here."

  "I thought you said you grew up in San Francisco."

  "No, I said I grew up in the area. Palo Alto, actually. My parents only ever make it into the city for shows, food, and the occasional shopping."

  "You lived in Palo Alto, and you went to Berkeley instead of Stanford? Why?"

  Derek's mouth tipped. "Because it's got a better law program, of course. Not to mention it gave me a reason to move out. My parents can't stand Berkeley. They voted for Reagan twice, and every single Bush when one was running."

  Sam grimaced. "That makes my ears hurt, just hearing it." He speared another bite, but hesitated before eating it, his features shifting into something a tad more cautious. "So...do they know?"

  Derek waited for the punch line for several chews before realizing what Sam meant. "About being gay? Yeah."

  "And they're okay with it."

  His smile returned. "They're Republicans, but they're still my parents. They're fine with it. Probably because I have a sister who's been popping out babies like clockwork for the last ten years. They don't need me to satisfy whatever grandchildren quota they're hoping to meet."

  "Lucky you."

  "No sibs squeezing 'em out?"

  Sam ducked his eyes, stirring around his food. His long lashes were dark against his cheeks, his mouth unexpectedly solemn. In soft repose, it was even more tempting, but Derek found he missed the cheeky smile.

  "Things aren't quite so easy back in Texas," he said. "My family doesn't know."

  "Why not?"

  A shoulder lifted, fell. "Don't want to fight about it, I guess."

  "Since when don't you like a good fight?"

  "Since I know there's zero chance of me winning." Some of the bravado came back with a flash of blue eyes. "You think I'm a holy terror? You've never seen my old man on one of his tirades. He can scare your balls into the next state with just a look."

  Derek had a sneaky feeling only the man's progeny would get that full effect, but refrained from saying so. "Don't flatter yourself into thinking I was scared of you, cowboy." But he said it with a
smile.

  The nickname that had just slipped out brought a rush of color to Sam's face. When he dove into his food, Derek let him, content to eat at his own slower pace. It gave him the time to watch Sam without interruption, wondering how it had happened that he wasn't hating every minute of this meal. Sam wasn't being nearly as snide or obnoxious as he usually was. Derek had forgotten the enmity once they'd actually started talking. Talking. That shouldn't even be possible. He could even deal with being attracted to Sam more than he could enjoying his company. There was no denying Sam was good-looking--pretty, almost to a fault. Facts were facts.

  Some of them just weren't living up to his usual definitions or expectations, that was all.

  He was more than a little surprised when the end of the meal came. They both passed on dessert, even though Derek had mentioned the build-your-own-s'mores that Luna Park was famous for. Even if he wasn't hungry himself, Derek was a little disappointed Sam hadn't tried it. He would've wanted to sit back and watch Sam's mouth wrap around the dipped cracker, and hear again the soft moans Sam hadn't been able to contain while he finished off his entrée.

  Sam tossed his napkin onto the table and sat back, stretching his legs. "I am so glad I'm parked blocks away. I need to walk this food off."

  Derek frowned. "You drove? You have to kill for a spot around here."

  "I almost did. You could've warned me, you know."

  "I could've. But it was more fun thinking of you circling the block."

  "Still thinking of me, huh?"

  Scribbling his signature across the bottom of the credit card receipt, Derek shook his head. "Only to have a laugh."

  "Better than not at all." He nodded toward the door. "You could make it up to me by keeping me company. I might even be willing to give you a ride home, if you asked real nice."

  "I've never asked you anything nice." Dinner, notwithstanding.

  "Then ask not so nice. I've been known to bend over backward for that more than once."

  His erection had finally started to ease. The innuendo in Sam's voice brought it back with a roaring vengeance.

  "You just don't give up, do you?" Derek slid out of his seat and headed for the door, not bothering to check if Sam was following. He didn't need to. He knew Sam would. "I'll walk you back. But only because you're going to save me thirty bucks for a cab."