Chances Are

by Lee Brazil

  Chapter Five

  There were signs.

  Everyone was gone for the night…the last of the drinkers, the cops, Gerry, and Darrin looking grim and defeated. The bar was dimly lit by neon beer signs, but I discovered long ago that if you leave a single light on to mop by some idiot will try to convince you to sell him a drink. So I was mopping in the dark and thinking about the night…about Gerry and his brother and having someone to call, about Darrin and his drinking and who the hell was he going to call? He was probably going to get written up, maybe suspended from the force because I saw those two uniforms noticing the alcohol on his breath. But mostly I was thinking about Rory. How hot he was…the things I'd like to do with him…the arrogance…I liked him. I realized that, and while it scared me, I thought I was ready for more than backroom sex. Besides, I owed him.

  In retrospect, there were signs all along that I was getting over what Cannon and I had shared. I've given you the impression I'm a bitter man, and that's true, but this little incident showed me that I’m letting go, and moving on. Rory interested me more than I thought he would…I began to think that I wouldn't have any trouble remembering the color of his eyes or hair. After all, I remembered his name just fine.

  I was mopping up the floor, thinking about calling him, when I remembered that I threw his card in the wastebasket of the office after he left. "Fuck."

  My heart tripped as I headed for my office, leaving the dirty mop water in the middle of floor, casting the mop aside like so many of the faceless men I'd had encounters with. All because I couldn't remember if I'd emptied that trash can or not. What if I threw out his card?

  I slowed my pace toward the door. Keep calm, dumbass. You're capable of finding a cop in this town. More than likely he'd come back in to get a drink with his buddies. But I didn't want to drag him off into the backroom in front of the whole bar so they'd all know what we were doing next time.

  My hand was on the doorknob to the office when a rap on the glass window beside the entrance caught my attention. Seemed like it wasn't even necessary to have a light on…they see a shadow move and assume you'll get them a drink. "We're closed!" I yelled, opening my office.

  The rap was repeated louder, more insistently. I scowled. Fucking drunks. Stalking across the wet floor, I unlatched the door and stuck my head out. "It's after hours, dickhead. I can't sell to you or I'll lose my liquor license."

  He stepped out of the shadows so I could tell, even though his face was pink from the light of a neon beer sign, that it was Rory. I needed to go get my heart checked out, because that fucker started to race and skip along like I'd done a line of coke or something. "Rory." My voice was husky, and he liked it, the grim line of his jaw softened and his lips parted a little.

  I was doing okay, getting myself under control when his tongue peeped out and slid over his lips leaving a shiny trail…and maybe it was the neon lights, or maybe I just missed kissing, but suddenly I had to kiss him.

  I yanked him into the bar, letting the door swing shut behind him. I used the excuse of locking the door to push him against it and take his mouth.

  He was surprised, but willing, his mouth opened immediately, and I felt his frustration when I ignored that invitation. A lighter feeling flowed through me. Kissing Rory was fun; his lips were soft skin over firm muscle, plump, resilient. I licked and sucked his bottom lip while he tried to capture my tongue and lure it into his mouth. He could do what he wanted, I was going to enjoy the first kiss I'd shared with anyone since…he who shall not be named.

  Some day, Cannon won't even cross my mind. Tonight, he was there, but he wasn't the center of my focus. Rory was alive, squirming and pushing against me, making enticing little sounds of frustration.

  His hands closed on my hips; he ground his cock against me, and I remembered that I never got to see him earlier. I nipped his lower lip and leaned away from him. That pushed our groins closer and his breath whooshed out in alcoholic fumes. "You been drinking in someone else's bar?" I teased.

  He pouted, and with his lips damp and swollen, I nearly blew off looking and dove back into kissing.

  "I didn't want to come back here, Chance. You treated me like shit, and I didn't like it. I just came to say screw you, you don't know what you're missing."

  His belligerence might have turned me off, if his eyes didn't flash with hurt, and his cock wasn't rubbing so frantically against me. I felt a little thrill that he still wanted me…a little regret that he'd taken my actions so much to heart.

  "I’m sorry. I’m not used to this."

  His cheeks flushed and his grip on my hips tightened. I cupped his jaw in my palm and the blond stubble I could barely see abraded my skin. It felt good…

  "I want to touch you." Wanted to feel him all over, let his body burn away the memories of blue eyes and black hair. Build new memories.

  His Adam's apple bobbed and he looked frantically around. "Here? Now?" His hurt feelings were apparently forgotten easily, and I was glad because I didn't want to hurt him.

  Couldn't help laughing though. "Not unless you want every perv who walks by to see your naked ass." The whole front of the bar was glass windows, and anyone who came by could see right in. Rory was blushing but not protesting and I made a note of the fact that he wasn't ruling out public sex. Interesting, but not for this time.

  "We can go up to the apartment."

  "Yes." I watched the muscles in his ass flex as he headed for the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder when he realized I wasn't following him yet. "Aren't you coming?"

  "Not yet. I was admiring the view. And you'll be coming first…I owe you."

  I realized how careless those words were, how they might have been interpreted when he froze with one hand on the stair rail. "Is that what this was about? Paybacks? I'm not a debt collector, Chance. I don't want you like that."

  I’m not used to caring how people hear my words. I'm not used to caring how people look at me. "I’m not used to this." I grumbled. "Making an effort. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I want you, Rory. In my bed. No debts."

  "I don't do one night stands," he asserted. It was kind of a moot point, because hadn't I already decided that I wanted more from him? But he didn't know that.

  He stared at me now, earnest and so damn young looking I had to chase second thoughts out of my head. "I need this, Rory. Need you."