Toronto Tales 1 - Cop Out (9 page)

“I can’t do it, I just can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Davy was scaring him again. He never would have forgiven himself if Davy had harmed himself in those early days, and now—what if Davy slid back to his early despondency?

“This. Ben loved this stupid garden, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with it.” The venom in Davy’s voice was a shock, as was the swearing. Davy didn’t swear often. “I ignored it. I didn’t want to look. Ben planted these the weekend before… before….”

Kurt nodded. He didn’t need Davy to spell it out. “And? Can’t you just pick them?”

“Ben picks… picked them. I’d make tomato sauce and cabbage rolls, according to his mom’s recipe, and freeze all the leftovers. How can I do that this year? I didn’t even want to come out here. But I left it too late. Can’t you smell it?”

Sniffing, Kurt was able to smell a sweet, almost sickly scent. Rotten tomatoes. Kurt’s head swiveled, taking in the sheer number of tomato plants, many of them drooping and trailing along the ground with the weight of the fruit. Shit. Ben must have really liked tomatoes… or cabbage rolls. Christ.

“I tried picking them, but I can’t even lift the fucking basket. How the fuck am I going to get rid of them?” Davy’s voice rose, almost shrill in his distress.

“Hey, calm down.”
“That’s all you ever say!” Davy flung a soft, squishy tomato at him, and it broke open on his shirt with a wet splat. Not rotten, but very, very ripe. Still… Kurt raised a brow and reached out slowly for another super-ripe tomato. Davy’s mouth rounded in an “O” of surprise

before Kurt threw a tomato in retaliation. He snorted. Davy glared at him, and he scrambled away, arming himself with a tomato in each fist. Standing, Kurt made himself a target before he bent and grabbed several tomatoes, lobbing them at Davy’s ducking and weaving form.

After several minutes of chasing and, well, food fighting, they collapsed to the ground, panting. Davy was more relaxed, his entire face and body were covered in tomato juice and seeds, and Kurt’s clothes were in a similar state of disaster.

“Do you want any of these tomatoes? Because I know my mom could use the ripe ones at Finn’s.” He didn’t want to upset Davy again, but the initial problem remained. It wouldn’t be healthy to leave the crop to rot on the vine.

“Do you like cabbage rolls?” Davy asked shyly.

 

“Yep, love them.” Kurt liked all kinds of food, including cabbage rolls, but he would have said yes to anything at that moment. “Then maybe I could keep some.”

Kurt dragged the half-full bushel basket to the kitchen door. “Okay, I’ll work on the rest. You shower and make cabbage rolls.”
“Deal.” Davy gave him that almost-smile. One day, Kurt was going to see a real smile from the man, and he’d fall over in surprise.

Kurt spent hours picking tomatoes. The ripe ones went into the bushel baskets, the over-ripe and rotting ones went into the composting bin. He loaded up the car with the bushels and dragged the bin to the curb. It was a couple days early for organic waste pick-up, but with his work schedule he couldn’t guarantee he’d be back on garbage day. The bin was fucking heavy, and he didn’t want Davy to hurt himself.

Letting himself into the house, the fragrant scent of cooked meat, cabbage, and tomato overpowered the sweetish smell on his clothes.
“Smells great, Davy. You mind if I borrow your shower?”

Davy wandered out of the kitchen, oven mitts on both hands, and glanced at the bag Kurt gripped. “You brought spare clothes?”

He shrugged. “I learned early on at a particularly messy crime scene never to go anywhere without at least a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in the car.” Oh, that had been miserable. He thought he’d never get the smell of rotted flesh out of his car—even the relatively short ride to the station wearing those clothes had been enough to transfer the stench to the upholstery. He’d had to drive with the windows wide open all winter.

Davy opened his mouth as though he were going to ask a question, but thought better of it and closed his mouth again. Which was good. The description wasn’t pleasant, and he didn’t want anything to detract from the fantastic smells emanating from Davy’s kitchen. “Shower?” he asked again.
“Oh, yes, sure. There’s towels in the hall closet, and the shower’s

in the master bath.”

K
URT
grabbed the towels and passed through the bedroom to the master bath. He’d showered at places besides his own apartment, and when he’d asked, he’d forgotten the only shower was through Davy’s bedroom.

He stripped and made sure his splattered, sweat-soaked clothes touched only tile and not the white bath mat or rug. What the hell was with the white in this place? The kitchen and the bathrooms were like hospitals, and the rest of the house was aggressively neutral.

He stepped under the spray, soaking himself. The water pressure was fantastic. Kurt hadn’t had a shower this good since… how long had it been since he’d had a vacation? Two years? Three years? The last time he’d been in a hotel, at any rate. The pressure at his parents’ house had always been for shit, and it was only marginally better in his apartment, as long as he didn’t shower when everyone else was getting ready for work.

Hopefully, Davy had a big water heater. Kurt looked around for a bar of soap but didn’t see any. Instead, Davy had body gel of some sort, a brand he didn’t recognize, not that he was likely to. Soap was soap as far as he was concerned.

A clean, almost citrusy scent spilled out when he flipped open the lid. He lathered himself up, almost surprised at how good it smelled. Not girly like he’d expected, and he should be ashamed for even thinking that for a minute. Davy was gay, not girly. Kurt used the same stuff to wash his hair, not caring if Davy had something different. His hair was short enough that it didn’t matter.

Still, something about the smell got to him, because his cock twitched. Maybe it was just a conditioned response because he frequently jacked off in the shower—but never in someone else’s. Not even some of the girls he dated. He grabbed the bottle of shower gel and read the label. Lemongrass. Well, he did love him some Thai food, but he’d never got an erection over it. Must be just habit. He made quick work of cleaning, because he sure as shit wasn’t rubbing one off in Davy’s shower.

He finished the rest of his shower quickly and dried off. He looked around the bathroom.

 

Shit.

 

After wrapping a hotel-quality white towel around his waist, he opened the bathroom door and poked his head out.

Shit and damn. He’d left his clothes by the linen closet. And there was no way in hell he was going to let those other ones anywhere near his clean skin.

He strode out into the hall and grabbed his duffle bag. “Are you done?” Davy called.
Kurt whirled, clutching the duffle, as Davy stepped out of the

kitchen.
Davy’s eyes widened. “Uh, I guess not quite,” he said.

“Forgot my clothes out here. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” Back straight, Kurt walked back through the bedroom to the bathroom without looking at Davy again, the tips of his ears heating.

He shut the door firmly behind him. Catching a glance at himself in the mirror, he groaned. The towel clung obscenely to his package, and his bare chest was slicked with moisture. He’d showered in many locker rooms, been naked in front of men before, but parading around half-naked at a gay man’s house just wasn’t right, especially since his cock hadn’t fully deflated from the shower. Then again, Davy hadn’t taken it as a come-on or anything. Maybe there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. Probably Davy hadn’t thought anything odd about it at all.

Dressed, he stuffed his dirty clothes in a plastic grocery bag before he zipped them away in the duffle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his embarrassment aside and went to join Davy for dinner.

K
URT
pushed back from the kitchen table, belly full of cabbage rolls. “Davy, that was fantastic. I know you’ve got your fancy chemistry degree and all that, but you ever thought of becoming a chef?”

Color blossomed on Davy’s cheeks. He must have hit a bull’s-eye with that one. “I’ve thought about it. But I don’t know if I’d like it as much, cooking for lots of people I didn’t know. Besides, the hours are terrible.”

True. Might even be worse than a cop’s. “Well, I hate to eat and run, but those tomatoes aren’t going to improve by sitting in my car in the heat. I’ve got to get them into the cold storage.”

Davy followed him to the door. “I’m sorry about the game. Games.”

“No worries. This had to be done.” Kurt stretched, his muscles creaking. Maybe not all in one day, though. “There will be other games.” And it was nice to take care of someone else, rather than everyone thinking he was so fucking fragile because he’d almost died in the explosion with Ben.

“Bye, Davy.” Kurt leaned in a fraction, almost like he was going to kiss Davy. Whoa. He backed out of the house, quick as he could. Davy didn’t look surprised or shocked or anything, so maybe the miniscule movement hadn’t been obvious. He hoped.

Sliding behind the wheel, he cranked the A/C and sat there for a moment while the car cooled down. What the fuck was that? Why the hell had he almost kissed Davy? Not
kissed
, kissed, like with tongue, but a simple good-bye peck. Even still, he’d never thought about kissing Davy—or any man—before, but something about the moment made him think of his parents and he’d been going to give Davy a good-bye kiss like his dad gave his mom all the time. Fucking weird. But if Davy didn’t notice anything, Kurt wasn’t going to bring it up. Had to be some sort of mental aberration due to exhaustion.

He really was tired. Picking up his phone, he pressed his quick dial for Finn’s. “Hey, mom,” he said when she picked up.

“Hey, baby. How are you? We haven’t seen you for a few days. Are you coming by? Do you need some food?”
Oh my God, he so didn’t need any more food. Not right now, and maybe not for days. He’d eaten far more cabbage rolls than was wise, but they’d been so damned good. How come Ben hadn’t been a fat, slovenly cop with Davy cooking for him all the time?

“No, mom, I’m fine. But I’ve got....” Kurt glanced in the rearview and did a quick count. He’d even had to put the seats down. “Eight bushel baskets of tomatoes. Think you can use them up? They’re pretty ripe.”

Even if she couldn’t, he’d find a dumpster somewhere. He wasn’t leaving them for Davy to deal with.

 

“How on earth did you end up with that many tomatoes?” “I was helping a friend of mine with his garden, and he didn’t know what to do with them.”

 

“They’re good, then?”

 

In the right hands, they sure were. “Yep. I think I ate half a bushel myself just now.”

 

His mom laughed. “Sure, I can change up some of the specials for next week. Bring them by.”

 

Kurt put the car into gear, and with a last look at Davy’s house, he pulled away.

 

Chapter Seven

 

“
H
EY
, man, I’m glad you’re here.” Simon opened the door and let Kurt step inside. Ever since Simon had told him Jen had invited a lot of people, including a few single girls from work, Kurt had considered cancelling. Simon wouldn’t have held it against him, but he didn’t want Jen to feel bad. After almost three months as partners, Simon stopped asking if he wanted to bring anyone special to their quiet, weekly dinners. But he didn’t think Jen stopped wishing he was dating someone.

The swell of jumbled feminine voices broke, and Kurt’s heart sped up. He could have used a wingman, and he wished he’d thought to ask Ian or Davy to come with him. Which was stupid. He’d never needed a wingman before, but the disturbing little incident at Davy’s front door a couple of weeks ago convinced him he needed to get laid. Dating still sucked, but he needed to spend some time with a girl.

Standing by the snack table, Jen beckoned to him. Kurt smiled and joined her. After a quick hug, Jen turned to a perfectly groomed blonde woman.

“Kurt, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine from work. Tiffany, this is Kurt.”
Tiffany’s smile was full of nice white teeth, but Kurt couldn’t help being reminded of a documentary he’d seen about lions. A chill of dread settled in the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to smile back. Tiffany was pretty, shapely, and Jen liked her. And he’d already decided he needed to get laid. With a deep breath, he groped for a conversational opening as Jen disappeared.

“S
O
,
HOW
’
D
it go with Tiffany?” Simon said with a grin as he slid

into the desk across from Kurt on Monday morning. Kurt slid a furtive glance over to Christa, thankful she hadn’t noticed. After Ian had pointed it out, he noticed she paid a lot more attention than she should to any conversation revolving around his dating habits, or lack thereof. He shrugged and changed the subject. “C’mon. We’ve got a scene to get to.”

“Oh, sure, man. Why didn’t you call me? I could have met you there.”

 

“Just came in a minute or two ago. Figured it could wait until you got here.”

“Right, let’s go.”
As Simon pulled out of the parking lot, he cleared his throat.