by Webster, K
Maybe less straight than I thought.
There’s definitely history between these two.
Based on Jax’s possessive vibe and Kian’s pink cheeks, it’s more than obvious. For some reason, that really makes my dick hard. I still, for the life of me, can’t get the image of Jax and his handcuffs out of my mind.
I’m not into testy tops.
Give me a bubbly bottom I can bend like a pretzel any day of the week.
Not aggressive, pissy, alpha males who might turn the tables on me. Fucking pass. Though, I would pay good money right about now to see Sheriff Bell naked as the day he was born.
“I’ve only been begging you for years to go with me,” Cato says with a pout. “Finally. We are going to have so much fun, Jax. I’m getting you drunk tonight so you can dust off that pretty dick of yours—”
“Cato,” Jax grinds out, his entire body tensing as his cheeks redden. “Enough.”
Cato huffs at being shushed, but he can’t hide his grin of excitement.
“It’s settled then,” Kian says, his voice tight. “Everyone come visit tonight. Drinks on me.” He gives me a polite smile. “Good seeing you again, but I’m afraid I need to leave. Cato and I have lunch plans.”
He pauses, as if to wait for Jax to respond, but the sheriff’s mean stare is back on me. Kian sighs heavily before dragging Cato out of the conference room, leaving just the two of us. The moment they’re gone and their voices can be heard outside, Jax comes unglued.
“Stay away from him,” he growls, poking me in the center of my chest hard enough it’ll bruise.
Anger surges up inside of me and I swat his strong hand away. “I’ll do as I please.”
Brown eyes flash with fury as all the muscles in his neck tighten. Despite this guy being a total asshole, he sure is nice to look at. I keep drifting my gaze to the top of his shirt where a few chest hairs peek out. My mouth waters for a taste.
Calm your dick, Dante. You’re not sexually compatible with guys like him.
Gritting my teeth, I straighten my spine, pinning Jax with a hard stare. “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but it’s getting old really fucking quick.”
His eyes narrow and he lets loose a dark chuckle. “We won’t have any problems at all, big city man, if you stay away from my Kian.” He winces and amends, “My friend, Kian.”
I let my gaze roam down his solid chest to the front of his jeans. Then, slowly, I make my way back up to his eyes. The anger has faded and his brows furl in confusion.
“I’m here to make friends, too, Sheriff. With Kian,” I taunt, enjoying the way his nostrils flare. “Hell, maybe even Cato as well.”
The motherfucker makes a harsh sound and shoves me. The goddamn sheriff of this town shoves me. I’m not some pussy city boy, though, and hold my ground, stalking back up to him until my chest brushes his.
“Are you always so unprofessional?” I demand, trying not to grow drunk on the pine and salty ocean scent emanating from him.
His eyes darken. “Only with you.”
“I feel so special,” I tease, my lips quirking into a smirk. “Special treatment for the new guy, hmm?”
For a brief moment, his gaze falls to my lips, his entire body softening as he does it. To test my theory about his sexuality, I run my tongue across my bottom lip to wet it. He sucks in a sharp breath and nearly stumbles over his own feet to escape my nearness.
Closet fucking gay.
If I had to guess, he hooked up with Kian, most likely in secret, and now is a jealous asshole anytime anyone looks at the beautiful boy. But if my intuition serves me well like usual, I’d say Sheriff isn’t ballsy enough to admit to himself, much less this town, that he’s gay.
“He’s been hurt enough,” Jax says, his attention falling to his scuffed boots. “Don’t toy with him just to fuck with me. I beg of you.”
Jesus. This guy must think I’m a real dick.
“Don’t worry, Sheriff.” I give him a teasing grin. “I only toy with the ones I’m fucking.”
He yanks his coat up from the chair and points a finger at me, his face and neck turning crimson. “Watch your back, big city man.”
As he storms out of the conference room, I stare at his ass that’s firm and muscular in his jeans. A probably virgin as fuck ass if I had to guess. One I’d love to stick my slick cock into and make the tough cop whine from the stretch of it.
I shake away my lust-filled thoughts. Salivating over a secretly gay, grumpy cop is only asking for trouble. I’ll stick to my usual. Pretty boys who wear pretty clothes and make pretty sounds when in my bed.
I’ll stay far, far away from the likes of Sheriff Bell.
Something tells me that’ll be more difficult than I realize.
I’m trying to focus on the construction draws spreadsheet, but someone’s playing their music so goddamn loud, I want to rip my ears off.
Callan.
That damn kid is going to be the death of me.
Before Dad passed away, he made sure to put his affairs into order. Mainly, he had to make sure Callan would be taken care of. That meant setting up guardianship over my fifteen-year-old brother at the time. Dad spent far too much time explaining how to father the moody kid. Child rearing isn’t rocket science. Besides, I was already seventeen when Mom gave birth to Callan—practically a man myself. It was expected from day one for me to be an adult and look after him whenever the situation called for it. Callan has always been more of a responsibility than a little sibling.
“Turn it down!” I holler, tilting my head up to the ceiling.
I’m going to kill Shelly for putting him in the room above my office. It’s one of the first few finished guestrooms so far, so it’s not like she had much choice, but I’m only a few weeks in of he and I living here, and I’m ready to kill him. When the music continues, I let out a huff and rise to my feet.
Stalking out of my office, I walk down the hallway, nodding to at the workers laying tile in the grand entryway of the stately building. I’m glad I missed the drywall dust phase of construction. If I had to deal with dust all over my things, I wouldn’t have been able to office here during the build. Thankfully, all I have to deal with is noise. The sounds of drills or hammers or workers talking is manageable, but whatever teenage bullshit is blaring from the speakers is not.
I take the steps two at a time on the winding staircase, eager to shut off the noise. By the time I reach the guestroom, I’m practically itching with irritation.
“You have to be gentle with him, Dante. He’s just like Mom and Shelly. Not hard edges like us.”
Dad’s words ring loud in my head as I take a calming breath. Once I’ve exhaled my anger, I knock on the door. “Callan.”
The music stops and he flings open the door. As soon as I take in his outfit, I realize today is a black day. I can always tell his moods by the color of his clothes. Holey skinny jeans, black boots with a bunch of strange buckles, and a tight black T-shirt with a giant middle finger on the front. His hair is nearly black, much like Mom’s was, and his hazel eyes are lined in black eyeliner.
Sometimes, I really, really miss Dad. I’m not cut out for parenthood.
“Everything okay?” I ask, studying his expression for any indicator of his mood.
He shrugs, turning to walk back into his room. His desk is messy with all his art shit—sketches of high-rise buildings and the Statue of Liberty. Guilt tugs at my heart because I know he’s not handling this move well. Everything he knew and loved was back in New York. All his friends. His school. The architectural design degree he wanted to pursue once he graduated high school.
And, because Dad died, he was forced to move out here with Shelly and me.
“How was school?” I walk into his room, stepping over discarded shirts and shoes, where he no doubt tried on everything he owns before deciding on his morbid ensemble. “Better than the last two days?”
He snaps his head my way, anger flashing in his eyes. “Worse.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“About how you moved me into this hick town full of fucking homophobic assholes?” he grinds out. “Yeah, big brother, let’s chat.”
Kill me now.
Where the fuck is Shelly when I need her?
Taking a seat on his bed, I let out a heavy sigh. “Someone picking on you because you’re gay?”
He scowls, once again offering me his back. With exaggerated movements, he sketches on his pad.
“I can’t help you unless you talk to me.” I grab a pillow and toss it at him. “Stop ignoring me, Callan.”
Spinning around to face me, he pins me with his fiery glare. With all the makeup shit around his eyes, he’s kind of fucking scary. Like some goth metal band misfit who’s considering a hobby in vampirism.
“You can let me move back,” he throws at me. “Let me go back home.”
“There is no home to return to,” I remind him. “We sold everything to come here.”
“A decision I had no say in!”
His hazel eyes sparkle with unshed tears, gutting me. I hate that he’s having a hard time, but in the long run, this move will be better for him. In New York, everything was a reminder of the fact we lost our parents. Here, we can make new memories while experiencing a new side of life. It’s an incredible opportunity for him—for all of us.
Of course nothing I say will be right in this moment.
Before I can open my mouth, his devastated expression morphs into a bratty little brother one as he looks past me. I follow his stare to our sister. As different as night and day compared to earlier today when she was slumming it in her painting clothes. My sister looks adorable in a dark gray sweater dress, black leggings, and gray fuzzy boots. Her red infinity scarf polishes off the look. Not a hair is out of place on her brunette head and her makeup is flawless. She’s in “find a husband mode” if I ever saw it.
“I’m too young to be an uncle,” Callan teases. “You’ll be pregnant by the time the check arrives after dinner.”
I scowl at him. “It’s just dinner.”
“Just dinner,” Shelly says, prancing into the room to preen in front of us, “with the town sheriff.”
My blood grows cold. “No fucking way.”
“Way,” she sasses. “I haven’t seen him yet, but his mom was pretty. Though, from what everyone says, he’s superhot.”
Superhot, indeed.
And gay.
Sorry, sis.
“Shelly Belly…” I want to tell her to drop this asshole and find someone straight, but the excitement on her face has me faltering. “Have fun. Remember, it’s just dinner. It’s okay to be friends with someone and nothing more.”
Callan laughs. “Since when is Dante such a cockblock?”
“Don’t say cockblock,” Shelly chides, though we both know we can’t control this kid’s mouth. “And I plan on being more than friends.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, making me shake my head and fight a smile.
“Be careful and call me if he’s too…” I trail off.
Her lips part and she gasps, her hazel eyes wide with realization. “Wait. You’ve met him. You think he’s hot too!” She cackles, smacking Callan on the shoulder. “It’s been a long time since Dante and I’ve gone to war over a boy. Oooh, this is going to be so much fun.”
“Maybe I’ll go to war too,” Callan offers. “Join in on the family fun. I like ’em older—”
“No!” Shelly and I shout at the same time.
Callan shrugs. “You guys are assholes.”
“Assholes who have to keep you out of trouble and your young ass from drooling over the mean-ass sheriff,” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest so he knows I’m serious.
Shelly shoots me a strange look before shaking her head. “You two can duke it out while I’m gone. Love you. Bye!”
We wave to our sister and I then make a beeline for my own room, happy that Callan’s sullen mood has faded. I have to get ready for tonight. If I’m going to flirt with some sassy bottoms at Kian’s club, then I need to look hot.
And not because I might be seeing the surly sheriff later either.
Nope. Not at all.
Jaxson
I can’t believe Mom set me up on a date. Furthermore, I can’t believe I agreed. I’d rather be at Blur staring at Kian’s perfectly plump lips, imagining pulling him into my lap and kissing him dizzy. Instead of doing just that, I’m pacing outside of Comida’s Diner, letting the icy night air penetrate the burning parts of my body in hopes they’ll cool.
Because of him.
Each time I think of that beautiful, villainous face, I want to kick the damn wall. I don’t need a man like Dante Kincaid in my life, stirring up trouble. I need him to take his fancy ass back to New York in his sleek black Range Rover. Far away from me and Kian. Earlier, after the Chamber meeting, I wanted to throttle him. Hell, I’d been seconds from doing just that.
But then, my body betrayed me.
His mouth smirked in a maddening way that shot fire straight to my dick. I’d been horrified and disgusted. All I wanted was to protect Kian from the predatory man and ended up wondering what Dante’s lips would feel like pressed against mine.
It was the ultimate betrayal to me and also to Kian.
I let out a huff of frustration, clouding the air around me as my warm breath hits the chilled air. I’m early for my date, so I decide to distract myself and take a trip across the street to Granger Home Décor to scope it out since Jarrett’s being such a bitch about these ladies. As soon as the street clears, I jaywalk my ass across—because I’m the damn sheriff and there are perks to that shit.
Granger’s is lit up bright and inviting. The windows are huge, revealing an artfully decorated dining room table, showcasing many festive wintery items. There aren’t any customers inside, which makes me feel kind of bad. Jarrett’s is always buzzing with activity. It’s clear to see Granger’s offers newer, more sophisticated items that are still charming. I smirk when I notice the “smile, you’re on camera” sign. The people in this town are more likely to steal your roll at dinner than a fancy-ass picture frame or whatever the hell this place sells. When a blond woman spies me through the glass, she waves and smiles broadly at me, motioning for me to come inside.
Goddammit.
I still have a half hour until my date, so I give the woman a nod before opening the glass door. Bells jangle from against the glass, making me warm immediately to them. Since my last name is Bell, hearing them always makes me smile and has ever since I was a child.
“Welcome to Granger Home Décor,” the small, energetic woman exclaims. “You’re our first customer of the day. We’re so happy to have you visit our shop!”
Now I really do feel like shit.
This woman’s not a bitch. I’m going to have to tell Jarrett to lay off.
“I, uh, am just checking it out.” I extend my hand. “Sheriff Jaxson Bell.”
“Oh!” She shakes my hand, grinning. “I’m Addison Granger. My sister Adeline isn’t feeling well, so it’s just me running the shop today. Thanks for coming to check us out. Are you in the market for something new for the house?”
Images of my sparse home have me cringing. “I’m not exactly good at decorating.”
“Which is where we come in,” she tosses back with a conspiratorial smile. “What’s your favorite color?”
Hazel.
Like his eyes…
Dante or Kian?
I mentally punch myself for even questioning that shit.
“Blue,” I say instead. “Cop and all.”
She smirks. “Blue is a lovely color. Are you looking for a particular room?”
“Ehhh, living room?”
Addison laughs and shakes her head. “You’re hating every second of being here. That’s okay. I’m glad you popped in anyway. Maybe you know of someone in the market of adding some unique pieces to their space. A girlfriend perhaps?”
“Actually, I’m about to meet a yo
ung woman for a date.” I glance around the fancy shop. “Any first date gifts?”
She rubs her hands together, a determined smile on her face. “Right this way. I know the perfect thing!”
I follow the spritely woman through the shop over to a basket of handcrafted flowers. Each one is delicate and beautiful.
“A local woman who lives near Red Hake Mountain made these. She sells them from a little roadside shop for next to nothing. I begged her to let me sell them in my shop. In New York, these would sell for over a hundred dollars each,” she explains, her voice squeaking with excitement. “I’ll sell one to you, Sheriff, at cost. Perfect for a first date.”
Addison is a nice woman. Makes me feel like a super dick for giving her business the cold shoulder, along with everyone else in this town.
“Thanks, Addison,” I say as I pull out my wallet. “I’ll take the pink tulip.”
She flashes me a bright smile. “Ahh, the tulip. You mean to declare your love?”
“W-What? Uh, no,” I choke out. “Which flower says, ‘You seem nice?’”
“The gerbera symbolizes cheerfulness, though it’s a strange one for a date.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Why do I get the idea you’re not excited about your date?”
I sigh and shrug. “My mother put me up to it.”
“Oh,” she says with a laugh. “Then the gerbera should do the trick. That’ll be sixteen dollars.”
Fishing out a twenty, I set it on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“You’re a sweetheart. Now, if you could just convince the rest of Brigs Ferry Bay to come buy gifts, I think we’ll get along just fine.”
I give her a nod as I take the wooden flower. “I’ll do my best.”
As soon as I exit the shop, I trot back across the street to find a woman standing near the door of the diner. Her dark hair keeps blowing into her face, hiding her features from me. But based on Mom’s description and the fact she’s waiting outside Comida’s, I’d say this must be my date.
I clear my throat once I reach her. “Are you waiting for me?”
Finally, she manages to push her dark strands from her face and regards me. I’m met with brilliant hazel eyes. Familiar ones. Goddammit, Mom. What did you do?