Chapter Five

  “So who exactly is Chris Fisher?”

  “I have no idea,” Grayson said. “Before this morning I’d never heard of him.”

  But the case was the last thing on his mind as he gazed at the clock on the diner wall. Grayson’s shift ended in three hours, and the reality of going home with Moose had his stomach twisting into knots.

  Not that Grayson wanted to chicken out. It wasn’t that. Not entirely. The thought of having sex with Moose actually thrilled him. But Grayson had been with only one other guy and…fuck. He felt the pressure bearing down on him.

  But he kept his cool, acting as if he wasn’t quietly freaking out on the inside. Grayson was forty-one years old. He could handle having sex with a guy. He could handle all that muscled skin under the palms of his hands. He could handle the kissing, touching, and stroking. The slid of tongues over moist places, the groaning, the hitching of breath as…

  Fuck. Now he was sitting there in the booth with a boner the size of Texas and there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now. He was aroused and couldn’t stop looking at Moose’s chest, his mouth watering to taste the man’s nipples, to touch his rigid abs, and to…

  Grayson looked over his shoulder when he heard something crash. Heather cursed and bent to pick up the broken glass as the bell behind her rang, letting her know one of her orders was ready.

  There was another guy who worked behind the counter. Fredrick glanced at Heather, rolled his eyes, and served some guy at the counter a cup of coffee.

  What was that about? Why wasn’t Fredrick helping her? Grayson had always thought Heather a real nice girl, so why had her brother looked at her like she was hopeless?

  Grayson spotted Cyril Anson past the order window. The owner looked at Heather and shook his head. He’d met Cyril a few times over the years, and the owner was a real nice guy.

  He was tall, lean, with a long beard that he kept in a braid. He reminded Grayson of someone who should be in a rock band instead of slaving at a stove.

  Cyril was also gorgeous, but Grayson had never had the nerve to flirt with him. He wasn’t even sure Cyril was gay. But now Grayson’s attention was on Moose and the night Moose had promised would happen.

  “We’re gonna have to dig into Chris Fisher’s life in order to find out who would want him dead,” Moose said, pulling Grayson’s attention back to him. “That’s where we need to begin tomorrow.”

  Grayson heard silverware clatter on the table behind Moose, and then the stranger hollered. Craning his neck, Grayson saw the man had spilled his soda.

  “Will you pay attention?” Moose waved a hand in front of Grayson’s face. “Stop getting distracted.”

  If Moose only knew why Grayson was unfocused. He couldn’t stop thinking about later. He felt flushed as if someone had turned on the heat in the diner or if the sun had made a spotlight right on him. He was sweating, and his uniform felt too tight.

  “Sorry,” Grayson said. “I just got a lot of crap to do at work. It feels like this day is never going to end.” No, it felt as though the day was going too damn fast. Three more hours and…Grayson swallowed and grabbed his glass of water to quench his parched throat.

  “Here you go.” Heather set their plates on the table. “Is there anything else you guys need?”

  More time. “No, this is good.”

  All of Grayson’s earlier bravado had gone out the window. He was overreacting, and he knew it, but he was unable to stop thinking about what would happen once they got home.

  “Thanks, Heather,” Moose said. “Can I get some ketchup?”

  “Sure.” She smiled, snagged a bottle from the counter, and handed it to Moose. “Anything else?”

  “Everything looks great,” Moose said.

  “Perfect.” Grayson nodded at her then shot a look at Moose when he felt the guy playing footsie with him under the table. Moose’s feet were rubbing at Grayson’s ankles.

  Grayson pulled his legs back as Heather walked away.

  Moose shoved a fry into his mouth. “I’m finding out that Maple Grove has some very kooky residents.”

  “It’s a small town. What did you expect?” Grayson sliced into his pot roast, loving how tender it was. The meat fell apart as he forked a slice and ate it, chewing it longer than he should have so he didn’t have to talk.

  Moose’s foot slid up Grayson’s leg, making Grayson choke on his meat.

  “You okay?” Moose smirked.

  “I will be when you keep your damn feet to yourself. You’re wearing, what, a size-fourteen boot? That’s too big to ride my leg.”

  Moose leaned forward, crooking his finger so Grayson would lean, too. When he did, Moose said in a low voice, “I’m sure you can handle my size, handsome.”

  Grayson’s hand flung out and knocked his glass of water over. He shouted and picked the glass up then threw some napkins down to stop the water from expanding across the tabletop.

  With a chuckle, Moose got up and snagged extra napkins from the dispenser on the counter. He returned and dropped a stack of them over the traveling water, which was trying to reach the edge.

  Some of the water had already hit the floor. Moose bent right next to Grayson and looked up at him with sultry eyes. His scent invaded Grayson’s lungs, strong, spicy, erotic manliness.

  A tiny groan worked its way up Grayson’s throat and crept past his lips. Realizing the sound he made, Grayson pressed his lips together and looked away.

  Moose’s low chuckle was smoky and deep. He rose to his full height just as Heather came over and took the wet napkins from Moose and the table.

  Thankfully she didn’t say a word. Grayson was incapable of speech at the moment. He craned his head and stared up into Moose’s handsome face. Their gazes locked, and Grayson felt a connection so deep to Moose that his chest squeezed tight.

  Moose’s tongue slid over his bottom lip as he stared down at Grayson, and then he took a seat and shoved another fry into his mouth.

  The moment had been tense, filled with unspoken promises of what was to come later. Grayson was no longer hungry. He wanted to swipe the table clean and bend over the flat surface, offering Moose whatever the man wanted.

  Unfortunately he still had three hours of work to finish.

  “Bathroom,” Moose mouthed and got up, walking away.

  Grayson swallowed roughly as he looked around, his palms sweating like crazy. He felt lightheaded as he slid from his seat. His legs wobbled as he walked, his sole focus on the men’s room.

  Grayson entered the well-lit bathroom, unsure what to expect. Moose grabbed him and pushed the door closed, leaning against it. If someone tried to come in, they would have to force Moose away, and Grayson doubted any mere mortal had that kind of strength.

  Moose’s lips slammed over Grayson’s as he fumbled at the zipper of Grayson’s uniform pants. He slid the zipper down, unbuttoned them, and fished his beefy hand inside.

  Grayson let out a yelp and a moan when Moose curled his hand around his hard dick. His cock twitched then throbbed as Moose started pumping his fist.

  He grabbed Moose’s biceps, hissing so loudly that he felt like a writhing snake or a wanton slut who wanted to be fucked so badly that he was whimpering.

  But he wanted to feel Moose’s dick in his hand. He was desperate for it. Grayson had years of pent-up frustration sitting in his balls and he wanted release, but he also wanted to enjoy this.

  He fumbled as he tried to release Moose’s mighty beast. It took a moment for Grayson to calm down enough that he could shove his hand down Moose’s boxer briefs. The guy’s flesh was hot, hard, and throbbing just as badly as Grayson’s own cock was.

  He backed up a step and wasn’t sure which body part jerked under the hand dryer, but the dryer came to life, drowning out their groans and quick intakes of breath.

  Grayson was oblivious to the world around him, even the hard push of air from the hand dryer. He had Moose’s cock in his hand and could barely close his fist as he jacked the hard flesh up and down, using the pad of this thumb to grab some pre-cum.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Grayson pulled away, and Moose followed as he turned the sink on and wet his hand. Now they were at the counter, eating at each other’s mouth, jerking each other off. It was a frenzied mess, and Grayson didn’t care.

  This was hot as fuck. The act, the kissing, the desperation. His balls were tight, hugged close to his body, ready to spill their bountiful seed. Grayson couldn’t seem to get close enough to Moose. There was a fraction of an inch between them, and that was too much.

  Moose deepened the kiss, and Grayson fought to get even closer. He needed to get closer. He spread his legs so Moose could grab at his balls. The tug made Grayson gasp as he jerked his hips forward, fucking Moose’s hand.

  He tipped his head back, his lips parted, as Moose kissed and sucked his way across Grayson’s jaw, the guy’s hands moving in rhythm with each other as Grayson’s cock and balls were tugged on.

  This had to be a dream. Grayson must have fallen asleep at his desk, because he’d never engaged in anything so risky, so erotic, or anything that made him want to get naked in a public bathroom.

  Pleasure ached through his entire body.

  His heart wouldn’t slow down.

  His breathing wouldn’t return to normal.

  Neither of them was saying anything, yet the bathroom was filled with noises of pleasure and need.

  Grayson let go of Moose’s cock and shoved him backward with brute force. Moose stumbled until his back was against the wall. Dropping to his knees, Grayson took the full-length and width of Moose’s cock into his mouth.

  “Oh fuck,” Moose groaned, keeping his voice down as though a part of his brain still had a few cells left that reminded him that people were just on the other side of the door.

  Grayson had a healthy gag reflex, but he struggled as he coughed and his eyes watered. He fisted Moose’s length, detracting inches so he wouldn’t die by cock-induced asphyxiation.

  He didn’t need the headlines reading that the new sheriff had died in a public bathroom by swallowing a cock two sizes too big.

  Moose’s legs trembled as Grayson stroked his cock, sucked as much of the meat as he could down his throat, and used his tongue to glide over the pronounced veins snaking down the side of thick flesh.

  Hands clamped onto Grayson’s head, stroking his hair as he tugged at Moose’s balls. Did Grayson know what he was doing? Not entirely. He just imagined what he liked when getting a blowjob and did exactly that to Moose’s dick.

  “Shit!” Moose threw his head back as his cock throbbed heavily in Grayson’s mouth. An eruption of cum spurted down Grayson’s throat. He tried to take it all, but the release was too damn much for him.

  He pulled back and moved aside enough that the cum shot to the floor and wall.

  Moose snarled and lifted Grayson up from under his arms, hauling him to the wall.

  This was erotic as fuck. Being dominated, made to take Moose’s pleasure. He squirmed as Moose jacked him off, their lips pressed together, sucking in the other’s exhaled breath.

  Moose licked the inside of Grayson’s mouth like he wanted to taste himself while getting Grayson off. He shoved his hand deeper into Grayson’s underwear, his hand moving steadily back.

  When Grayson felt the tip of Moose’s finger at his hole, he lost it. He just fucking lost it. He threw his head back, crying out his release, uncaring who the hell heard him as his balls emptied and his head swam.

  That had been the hardest orgasm Grayson had ever experienced, and he’d been married for twenty years.

  He collapsed against Moose, sucking in ragged breaths of air. Moose held him, kissing and petting, both enjoying the intimacy until someone tried to walk in.

  Moose’s foot shot out, sufficiently shutting the door.

  “Hey!” someone yelled from the other side.

  Moose and Grayson ran to different stalls and closed the doors just as the bathroom door opened again.

  Grayson emptied his bladder, fixed his pants, and swept a hand through his disheveled hair. He flushed and exited the stall, nodding at the guy who stood there looking curiously at him.

  “Is there a problem?” Grayson asked.

  The guy chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “I think Cyril needs to have that door looked at. It slammed shut in my face.”

  Grayson washed his hands, hiding his smile as his body still buzzed from tiny aftershocks. He left the bathroom before Moose came out of his stall.

  No need rousing any suspicions. Grayson had already been loud enough to wake the dead. He passed his table, his uneaten plate of food still sitting there, and tossed some money down before moving quickly toward the exit.

  When he spilled outside and walked a few steps, he burst out laughing. What he’d done with Moose in the bathroom wasn’t who he was, wasn’t something he’d ever thought about doing, but he felt alive as a tsunami of emotions washed through him.

  His body zinged with excitement as he walked back to work, whistling and filled with anticipation for the night ahead.

  * * * *

  Moose found it hard to concentrate as he talked with Jeremy Longing. All he kept thinking about was his mate, how Grayson had looked on his knees with Moose’s dick shoved down his throat, how his mate made those cute sex noises, how desperate he had seemed to make Moose come.

  “Did you hear me?” Jeremy asked. The blond couldn’t be any taller than five feet six. Moose towered over the guy. The man’s green eyes were bloodshot, and his breath smelled like booze.

  If Moose could get drunk from human alcohol, Jeremy’s breath would have done him in.

  The human had a pint in his hand. Dark liquid sloshed inside as he dropped into a recliner that had seen better days. For a drunkard’s house, it was surprisingly clean.

  Moose sat on the edge of the sofa, his notepad in hand. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat what you just said?”

  Jeremy blinked a few times as he stared down at the bottle in his hand. He stayed that way for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts. Moose wasn’t sure if the unshed tears in his eyes were from the booze or if the guy was about to cry.

  With a sigh, Jeremy got up and walked to the fireplace, removing a picture frame from where it was perched on the mantel. He stared at it as a single tear slid down his cheek.

  “I said I lost my wife two years ago to breast cancer. Lily was my entire world.”

  Moose now knew why the man drank. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  Jeremy gave him a tight-lipped smile and placed the frame back where it had been. He took a drink, swallowed, and hissed as he walked back to his chair and sat. “Thanks.”

  The setting sun created zebra patterns across the carpet from the blinds as Jeremy set the bottle on the table next to him. “What was it you wanted to know?”

  Moose had a job to do, and he needed to meet Grayson at the station in an hour, but damn it, he hated seeing anyone in this much emotional pain. “I wanted to know how you and Lily met.”

  Jeremy was a lanky guy and quite short. Moose glanced at the picture the human had been holding to see a smiling couple. Lily had had a breathtaking smile, and she had been just as short and slim as Jeremy was.

  There was also a spark of unbridled happiness in her pale blue eyes, telling Moose she had been just as in love with her husband as he had been with her.

  “At a carnival,” Jeremy said. He cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes, inhaling deeply and letting his breath out slowly. He was composing himself as he gave a watery smile. “She was there with a few of her girlfriends, and as soon as I laid eyes on her in that yellow summer dress, I knew I was in love.”

  Moose knew how Jeremy felt. Even though Grayson had been beat to hell, as soon as he’d laid eyes on his mate his heart had been stolen.

  Jeremy gave a small laugh. “Lily turned down my advances, refusing to go out with me. But I ran into her again at the coffee shop, without her friends, and we talked for what felt like forever.” He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “She was so amazing, this beautiful creature who was interested in someone like me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but she married me, and I was the happiest man on the planet.”

  Until the cancer took her. That was what Jeremy left unsaid.

  “How long were you two married?” Moose gazed around the room, and he saw her touch everywhere he looked. He had a feeling Jeremy hadn’t changed a thing.

  He was living with her ghost, his memory of happier times. Did the residents of Maple Grove know Jeremy’s story, or did they just judge him by his drinking?

  Now that Moose knew…fuck, he truly felt for the guy.

  “Three years.” Jeremy swallowed roughly, grabbed his bottle, and took a swig. “Three of the best years of my life.”

  Moose wanted to ask why they hadn’t started a family together, but that would’ve unleashed a tidal wave of tears and the guy was already suffering enough.

  If Moose had the time, he would sit there all night and let Jeremy talk about Lily. He looked as though he wanted to talk about her and probably needed to.

  Moose would return tomorrow. The guy needed someone to help him through this, and although Moose wasn’t a qualified person, sometimes just talking helped the soul heal.

  “I wanted to ask you about the vandal,” Moose said. “Did he strike here?”

  Jeremy looked as though he was coming out of a dream. He blinked rapidly and set his bottle aside. “Broken glass.”

  “Huh?”

  The guy waved toward the back of his house. “Someone smashed a bunch of empty booze bottles on my back patio. I cut my foot when I went outside the other night.”

  “How badly were you cut?” Moose automatically looked down at Jeremy’s bare feet. That was when he noticed the bandage wrapped around his left foot. At least Jeremy had had the wherewithal to take care of his wounds.

  “Not deep. I got the glass out, washed out the cuts, and put some bandages on it.” His eyes narrowed. “I went to the station to file a complaint when I heard the vandal struck again.” He scratched at his hair. “To be honest, this morning is a blur. I don’t remember if I filed one.”