Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (130 page)

ducked away automatically, keeping his eyes on Jurgen.

“C’mon in, Trooper Dammerung. I’ll make your iced coffee.” Her

voice was much harder than it had been.
No more ‘Jurgen’, then.

“Thanks, Jenny. That’d be great.” Nik thought there might be the

tiniest bit of a sigh in Trooper Dammerung’s voice.

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****

Dammerung and his ass dimples disappeared through the store’s

screen door. He turned and grabbed Nik’s arm with both hands.

“Thank you so much for making me come home with you for

vacation.
Thank you.
” He was yanking on Nik’s arm for emphasis.

Nik blew an amused breath through his nose. “You need to get out

more. So a hot guy came to my parents’ store.”

“Yeah, and had some incredibly
fraught
conversation with you,

full of sexual tension.”

“‘Fraught?’” Nik raised an eyebrow. He knew what Sam meant, he

was just playing dumb.

“I cannot believe you.” Suddenly Sam was accusatory. He

dropped his hands and pulled back. “You told me I couldn’t do that,

here.”

“Do what?” More of the dumb.

Sam snorted. “Flirt, jackass. You said the locals didn’t ‘take well to

our kind’.”

“They don’t,” Nik shrugged, pretending interest in his book. “He’s

not local. I’ve never seen him before.”

He could feel Sam boring a hole in the side of his head. Nik

sighed. “He was annoying.”

“He was annoying, so you flirted with him?”

“I was
baiting
him. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure it had nothing to do with how hot he was.”

“I hate it when you use that tone of voice with me.”

“What tone of voice?”

“Like you know something I don’t want you to know when you

don’t.
”

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“So, you aren’t attracted to him?”

“Sheesh!” Nik finally looked up from the book and over at Sam.

“C’mon. Did you see how tightly that guy was wound?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I saw how tight he was.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Nik added, not shutting up when he

should. “He isn’t gay.”
Riiiight.

Sam raised the other eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. Pretty sure he is.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yes, he is,” Sam sang. Then he added in his normal voice, “And

you know it.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. Nik went back to his book. For

a couple of seconds. “You saw his face. He never cracked a smile.”

“What? You have to smile to be gay?”

“It’s in the definition. Look it up.”

Sam snorted and gave up, going back to his magazine.

“Besides, he’s probably a leather daddy.”

Sam didn’t reply.

“I mean, seriously; walking testosterone factory,” Nik started

ticking his points off on his fingers, “cop, carries weapons, arrogant,

aggressive—”

“I’ll give you arrogant, but how do you know he’s aggressive?”

“I covered that under ‘cop’.”

“Not all cops are aggro. It’s a stereo-type. Like all gay men being

queens.”

Nik looked at Sam again. Sam sighed and turned away.

“Did you see if he was carrying a riding crop?”

Sam fought the smile, looking at his magazine. He didn’t say

anything.

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“He’d look so much better with no shirt on, huh? You think he’s

got a farmer’s tan or he’s that color all over?” Nik put his legs on the

porch rail, slumping in his chair, dropping his book over his lap. “I bet

he has chest hair, and he gets all sweaty and slick under that vest and

jacket, riding all day.” Nik gave a stage-shudder. He smiled, slowly,

getting into the fantasy. “Yeah, no shirt, sitting on that bike showing

off those hard muscles you know he’s gotta have under there. Those

pants… he could keep those.” Nik watched Sam fight the urge to say

anything.

“Have to keep the gun, too.” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Mmmmm-
hmmmmm
. And the shades,” Nik purred.

“Oh, yeah. And the boots.” Sam sighed. “I’m so glad you made me

come. To your parents’. You know.”

* * * *

“Why didn’t we turn on the AC earlier?” Sam was whining.

“I’m only here a few weeks out of the year anymore. I forgot.” Nik

was as cranky as Sam. He flopped across the floor.

It was almost dark, and they’d forgone the AC. It was pointless,

now. The high desert got cold quickly at night so they had opened the

windows instead. Through them Nik could see the pink-tinged horizon

and the dark blue mountains silhouetted under it. Stars were starting to

appear in the sky. He loved this time of day. It always seemed

promising.

“Your Dad can really cook, Nik. Where’d he learn to make curry

like that?”

“After the accident he had to find hobbies. He took a bunch of

classes.”

“Don’t see a lot of one-armed chefs,” Sam mused drowsily. Nik

snorted in amusement. He’d have to remember to tell Dad that. He’d

think it was funny.

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Nik lifted his head up and turned it away from the windows,

toward Sam who was sprawling on the couch. Sam was a big guy, and

a kinda dorky one. He was cute, though. Nik didn’t think he’d ever had

a better friend. He catalogued Sam’s long body impersonally. In spite

of being in his mid-twenties, Sam still looked underfed. Six feet three

and underfed.

“Sam, how much do you weigh?”

“Shut up.”

“What? Tell me.”

“No. I’ll tell you and then you’re gonna say that thing people

always say and I’ll have to hit you.”

“What’ll I say?”

“‘You still have plenty of time to grow into your body.’” He

mimicked. Nik didn’t know who he was mimicking, but it wasn’t very

flattering.

Oh. “Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought. It’s easy for people like you to say shit like

that.”

“People like me, who?” Nik lifted his head and tried to see Sam’s

face. No luck. It was hidden by a couch pillow and a bony elbow. He

dropped his head again, facing the couch.

“Cute, sexy guys like you. With big eyes and soft dick-lips who

move like dancers and are, like, unconsciously graceful.”

Nik felt just the slightest sense of alarm. He didn’t
think
Sam had a

thing for him. Sam went on.

“Guys who other guys, and sometimes even girls, fall all over

themselves for. Shit, you don’t even work out.”

“I dance. I mean, I take all that dance at school. That’s working

out.”

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“Yeah, but you don’t do it for the muscles, or to look good. You

do it because it feels good, right?”

Nik shrugged uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Like, take today.” Sam sounded like he’d settled into his rant.

“That cop, the hot one—”

“As opposed to the ugly cop that stopped by.” The snark just

slipped out.

“Shut up,” Sam said without heat, then went on. “He was looking

only at you. He didn’t even see me. All that pelvic thrust action? All

for you.”

Pelvic thrust action
? Nik mouthed to himself silently. Not that he

hadn’t noticed.

“And it should be all for you, you know? You’re all flirty and hot

and, I don’t know,
provoking
and shit.”

Nik was silent a few minutes. Sam seemed to have wound down.

Nik cleared his throat. “Um, Sam?”

Sam lifted his head and looked at Nik curiously. “Yeah?”

“I’m getting the feeling that you…. I mean. You don’t have some

kind of feeli—”

Sam groaned. “Oh, please. No, Nik. I don’t have a crush on you. I

think you’re hot, but I don’t picture your face when I beat it at night.

Chill.” He flopped back.

Phew. “That cop was probably so deep in the closet he has to flog

the guys he fucks just to make himself feel alright about wanting

dick.”

Sam lifted his head again. “Where’d that come from?” He stared at

Nik.

“Don’t know.” Nik shrugged. “He just looked like the kind of guy

who needs to be called ‘Sir’ to get off.”

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Sam lay back down. “Would that be so bad? Might be kinda fun to

try once.”

“I’ve tried it,” Nik said dryly. “Fun was not had by all.” He turned

his face back to the window.

“Oh.” Silence. “Maybe he’s not that kind of guy.”

Nik shrugged into the pillow he was laying on. “Doesn’t matter.

He’s not coming back here looking for any candy.”

“Think he’s a top?” Sam asked. Then he started laughing. Nik

snorted and rolled his eyes. Sam fell silent after a while. Nik let

himself sink into the floor and enjoy the evening.

He could hear a motor coming up the old highway that ran past the

store. The highway tended to get pretty lonesome at night. Whitetail

Rock wasn’t exactly a thriving business center. He and Sam listened to

it through the open window. He could tell Sam heard it by the quality

of his silence.

“Sounds like that guy needs a muffler.” Nik’s heart thudded, once,

in his chest. Then again. Then it started to pick up speed. Like the

beginning of that Violent Femmes song. What the hell was it called?

“Maybe it’s supposed to sound like that,” Sam said slowly.

They listened for a bit, hearing it get closer.

Nik swallowed. His muscles froze up. He wasn’t moving off this

floor. No matter what.

“Sounds like a motorcycle,” Sam observed.

Nik grunted.

The motor started gearing down. Sam sat up on the couch behind

him, and Nik just knew he was looking intently at the windows. As if

it would make him hear better. Like he was a bird dog or something.

“How late do you guys stay open for candy, anyway?” Sam asked

when they heard wheels crunching across the gravel of the drive. He

started laughing again.

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Nik hit the stairs running, trying to get there before the bike’s

motor shut off.

No such luck. He could hear crickets and night when he slammed

out the screen door, and the rapid ticking of a motor cooling down.

Nik didn’t stop. He felt the old boards, still warm and polished

from years of use, under his bare feet as he hit the porch.

Damn. Forgot shoes. Eh, he didn’t like shoes anyway.

Nik didn’t quite run around to the front of the store. It was more of

a canter. The porch light was on over that door, but the store was

closed up tight for the night. The light was annoying. It wasn’t dark

enough for him to need it, and he preferred the shadows at twilight.

Some stupid moth was trying to beat itself to death on the round

globe. Nik waved away a persistent crane fly and started down the

steps, on the balls of his feet. There tended to be splinters on the front

steps.

Damn.
Trooper Tight-ass was already getting off the bike. It was a

different motorcycle than this morning, of course. They probably

didn’t want him driving a department issue vehicle around when he

went on a booty-call.

This was more a booty-drop-by.

Actually, it was an I-hope-I-get-some-booty-drop-by.
Good luck

with that.

But jeez. Those ass dimples. They looked just as good in tight,

worn-out denim as they had in uniform pants. Better. Yum. Nik

started to pick his way across the sharp gravel while he watched the

trooper take off his helmet and stow whatever it was he was stowing.

Maybe it was from the motorcycle seat, but the butt of Trooper

Tight-ass’s jeans were nearly white with wear. What kind of action

must that ass see to wear jeans out that way? You probably had to do

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a lot of clenching and tensing of the glutes to ride a motorcycle, huh?

That’s probably what made his ass so fine. Maybe some scooting

forward and back, rubbing tensed muscles against the leather to keep