Faith and Fidelity (28 page)

“Hey,” she said in her friendly way. “There a cop convention around here today?”

Aha
, thought Matt.
I was right. I could be a bartender.

The man laughed, the sound low and scratchy. Apparently there was something in the man's smile, because Halter Top almost oozed into a puddle. Matt tried not to stare.

“Good eye. I'll take a Corona.”

“Sure,” she purred, her demeanor quickly switching gears. “I'll start you a tab. You new here? I haven't seen you before.”

Hey
, Matt thought.
Am I chopped liver? I didn't get a questionnaire when I sat down.

“Just visiting,” the man replied. “I'm from the West Coast.”

“LA?” She gave him the Corona and lounged in front of him, showing off her bared skin to the best advantage.

“Washington State.”

“Oooo. Great music, man! Do you go to a lot of clubs?” Matt almost rolled his eyes. He reached the bottom of his bottle and put it down on the bar.

“S'cuse me, honey, but I'll take another.” He motioned with the bottle.

Halter Top gave him a “can't you see I'm busy, loser” look, but he didn't care. He wanted a drink. As she walked away, working on a good “huff,” the man next to Matt turned his way.

“Thanks. I was afraid I was going to have to have a discussion about Seattle music or the brilliance of Kurt Cobain.”

“Who?”

“Exactly.”

Matt laughed quietly. He swiveled a bit on his seat to get a better look. The guy was his age, maybe a little younger, and no stranger to a gym. Matt guessed he was still on the force, probably a detective.

“Matt.”

“James. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand and they shook.

“Mind if I stick around for a bit? I don't feel like being holed up in my hotel room, and it's too cold to walk around.”

Matt shrugged. “Not a problem. I could use the company. All the youthful exuberance in this place is starting to piss me off.”

“When did people in their thirties become youthful? Better yet, when did I get so goddamn old?”

Halter Top slid the Corona to Matt and didn't bother to try and engage James in a conversation again. She gave them both a strange look, then smiled and walked away.

Well, what the fuck was that
, Matt thought.

“Old? I'm practically dead. I'm the same age my father was when I realized he wasn't indestructible. That's a bad place to be.”

James laughed. “I hear you, brother.”

Matt sipped his beer. Okay, this was nice. This was cool. Nice guy, conversation, beer. Not too shabby.

If he knew he were going to get laid tonight, it would be a perfect evening.

They talked until the thirty-somethings gave up the ghost and went home to their overpriced and underfurnished apartments.

They talked until the next crowd of bar hoppers wandered in; a smaller group, subdued because they were already drunk. They started playing darts on the other side of the bar, ordering pitcher after pitcher from Halter Top.

They talked until Matt realized he hadn't had a seventh beer but he needed one because his throat was dry.

“So Matt, what the hell are you doing at this bar with me instead of being out on a date?”

The question, on the surface seemed pretty innocuous, but Matt Haight, former detective, heard the leading edge of it clear as a bell.

And he wasn't sure how he wanted to play it.

“Nobody on the radar right now to call. Truth is, I came there hoping to meet someone,” he said carefully, trying to subtly get Halter Top's attention.

“A hookup?”

Matt laughed. “No, a meaningful relationship forged out of sharing a couple of beers in a bar.”

“Ah. Definitely a hookup.” James took a swig of his beer, turning slightly to face Matt. “That's not usually my thing, but it can work.”

He sounded thoughtful.

“Yeah. It can. When both people know the score.” Where the fuck did that come from, thought Matt. No more watching
Sex & the City
reruns on Sunday nights— it was starting to influence his mind.

“So do you have someone waiting for you back in Washington?”

It slipped out easily and Matt swore he no longer had control over his voice.

There was such a long silence that Matt turned his head to look at James's face. He looked like Matt had shot his dog.

“Hey, man, I'm sorry... ”

“No, no,” James said, recovering. “I don't date much... ” He was stammering a bit, and Matt was bewildered by the sudden change.

James sighed. “The fucking truth of the matter is I'm crazy about... someone but they aren't interested in me like that. In fact, tomorrow I get to fly home and start planning a bachelor party.”

As soon as he said “bachelor party,” James stiffened up. He pulled subtly away from Matt and faced the opposite side of the bar again.

Matt felt bad for him.

“It's okay.”

“I'm sorry. I... this was stupid... I have no idea if you're... I just thought you might be interested.” His voice was low, as if he were afraid that someone would overhear him. “I came here because I'm lonely and tired and I don't know what to do to make it go away.”

Well shit
, Matt thought.
Thank you for verbalizing exactly how I feel.

“Does he know?” Matt asked softly.

James shook his head. “No. He's straight. Up until about a year ago, he thought I was too. I was afraid... I was afraid to tell him about the men in my past. It's just always easier to mention the women.”

Matt nodded. Would this be his plan going forward?

“How about you?”

“Me?” said Matt. “I uh... in a stroke of ‘it could only happen in NY,’ you sat down on a barstool next to an ex-cop going through the same shit you are.”

“No shit. Straight guy break your heart?”

Matt laughed uproariously. “Something like that. I fell for someone who couldn't handle it. Not that I could— I mean... he was the first... you know. I didn't even know I was capable of feeling that way... ”

James whistled. “You just figured this out recently?”

“Ever been hit by a garbage truck?”

“Um... almost.”

“
That
is what I feel like. I meet this guy, I start feeling shit I had no idea was programmed into my fucking brain, we start... you know... trying to make something happen, and then boom! I start to feel comfortable and he bails.” Matt almost cried out in relief when Halter Top graced them with her presence and two more beers. Matt sighed heavily.

“That's some serious shit you have to handle there, Matthew. I don't envy you. But if it helps any, I understand.”

Matt heard all the pain in James's last statement. He sighed again.

“Yeah. It helps.”

They sat in silence for a long time, drinking their beers and staring straight ahead.

Then Matt felt James's shoulder touch his.

Followed by his thigh.

And whoosh— there went racing heat from the top of his head down to his freaking shoes. Jesus, when did it get so hot in here?

But Matt didn't pull away. Without even consciously thinking about it, he leaned into the touch.

Neither man said a thing.

Finally, Matt felt compelled to speak.

“I think you're hitting on me.”

“Score one for a cop's instincts,” James said drily.

Matt snorted.

“It has nothing to do with being a cop and everything to do with what's nudging my leg.”

He quickly drank his beer, feeling his face burning with embarrassment. Or something.

James looked down at his lap, then back up at Matt. “Thanks for the compliment, but that's just my knee.”

A thinly veiled snicker exploded into hearty laughter when Matt saw the “innocent” look on James's face.

In a second, James joined in and it was a few minutes before either could speak or even take a proper breath. In the companionable quiet afterward— punctuated only by the moans of defeat from across the room, near the dartboard— neither man made eye contact.

Halter Top made another pass to their end of the bar, grabbing tips and cleaning up spills. She smirked a bit in Matt's direction, and he felt his ears singe with embarrassment. James seemed to pick up on it because when she walked away, he leaned close to Matt and spoke softly.

“Let's get out of here.”

A rush of emotion and a tangle of thoughts swirled around Matt in a brief second. Evan was no small part of it all.

Without having any idea of what he was going to say, Matt opened his mouth and heard someone say,

“Good idea. Where are you staying?”

James smiled, keeping his body near Matt's.

“Lafayette Street. A quick cab ride.”

Matt nodded because his voice had gotten stuck behind a mile of dry throat. He could smell James's aftershave and the smoke from the bar that had seeped into his black shirt. And there was no mistaking the flare of heat that their close proximity was creating. There was a moment of sheer panic when the reality of it all slammed into him— they were going back to James's hotel room to have sex, there was no mistake about it. And no virginal fumbling either; James had experience and know-how, and he was looking at Matt like he already knew the first ten things that were going to happen once they reached the room.

It was frightening.

It was sexy.

James seemed to read Matt's mind, because with a practiced hand, he touched the inside of the other man's thigh, gently. In invitation. In comfort.

“Let's go,” he murmured again. “No pressure. We'll just talk unless you want something... else.” His voice was low, gruff. Matt felt it seeping into his bones.

He stared at James's mouth. Yeah. Fuck yeah. He wanted more. He wanted to know what it was like— all of it, now that he had had a taste. And maybe it couldn't be compared. This wasn't love but it was comfort and that's what he wanted.

“We'll talk in the cab,” Matt answered suddenly, finding his voice and a full reserve of Haight courage. “Let's get out of here.” Nothing more was said as they gathered up their jackets. Halter Top slid over the credit card receipt for Matt to sign, so he scribbled something he hoped would pass muster. In less than three minutes they were standing on the sidewalk, feeling the biting cold press up from the concrete. Matt felt a rush of déjà vu so strong he could actually taste it but before he could process it, James was calling him and then he was in the cab.

And they were on their way.

The richly accented voice of Placido Domingo welcomed Matt and James into the cab and reminded them to buckle up for safety. Matt didn't bother since he was wedged in so tightly between James and the Plexiglas divider there was little chance of him going anywhere. James's body seemed to have grown since they got into the cab; his legs were tangled up in Matt's, his arm resting on the seat behind Matt's head.

James gave the address of the Holiday Inn off Canal Street and leaned even closer to Matt.

Jesus, was it hot in here or what?

“You okay?” James murmured in his ear.

Matt nodded dumbly. “Yeah. It's just a tight fit... ”

James snorted politely.

Ah yes
, Matt thought,
another double entendre. It was hard enough... shit!

He snickered at his own joke.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Matt turned his head.

“How are you doing?”

Matt had a pithy reply on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the concern on James's face, it died a quick death. This wasn't a faceless bar pickup— this was a nice guy. A nice, lonely guy. Someone who Matt would easily buddy up with if they worked together. A guy who's heart was just as kicked around as his own... This wasn't what he was looking for. This was what he had been trying to forget.

“Okay. A little surprised. But okay,” he finally said, trying to be honest.

“I didn't expect to meet you tonight.”

James seemed taken aback by the comment. He turned to stare out the window as they made their way downtown.

“Maybe this wasn't a good idea,” James murmured, still facing away. “I didn't mean for this to be complicated.”

Matt gave a short laugh. “As opposed to being uncomplicated? Sorry that word doesn't have any place in my life. Everything is a shit storm with me, man— don't worry about it.” Feeling a little brave, he reached out and ran his hand along James's outer thigh.

That got James's attention pretty quickly.

“I wouldn't have come with you if I wasn't interested.” He spoke softly now, just for James's ears.

“I know you're interested,” James sighed. “I just want to make sure this doesn't make things... worse for you.”

“Thanks.” Matt smiled at him gently. “You don't have to worry. Really. This is... good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Emboldened, he deepened his touch. It was nice. It was sexy. He felt a little drunk on the hormones, way too comfortable with this big, strong man who seemed to understand exactly what he was saying. What he was not was afraid— afraid that this would grow into something, afraid he would get his insides shredded. James wasn't a threat.

He was... a comfort.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when he felt gentle fingers graze the nape of his neck, ruffling his hair. He didn't have time to prepare for the kiss, the warm dry lips, and the subtle hint of tongue. They kissed for a long minute, taking their time getting to know one another. As Matt had suspected, James was firmly in control, moving his hand slowly against the back of Matt's head, deepening their kiss, then pulling back to keep thing civilized.

No need to rut like animals in the cab.

When they came up for air, Matt kept his eyes closed. He needed a moment to get used to the idea that he, Matthew Haight, had just kissed yet another man. Maybe this was getting easier.

He looked over, saw James staring at him with weirdly pale blue eyes— filled with worry and lust and anxiousness. Then James licked his lips— dragged his tongue across and down and over— and Matt's brain barely stayed secured in his skull. Perhaps restraint from rutting in cabs was overrated.