Page 9 of Best Friends
The guy scowls and gives a grunt.
I turn back to face the front. “If he’s done this more than once, he should be charged with a third degree felony.”
“I agree.” Cheyenne puts the car into drive and heads toward the station. “But it’s not up to us.”
“I know,” I grumble.
The rest of the calls during the day are more low key. We get some petty thefts, a couple of over doses, and a few prostitution calls. Sometimes the seediness of the job gets to me. I want to make a difference in my town, but days like this I feel like it’s a losing battle. For every scumbag we pull in, two more seem to pop up. It’s like a masochistic game of Whack-a-Mole.
After work Cheyenne and I head to our favorite watering hole called Frankie’s. All the cops meet up there after workwhen they want a drink. The place is old school with dark paneling and vinyl booths. Frankie’s has been around so long there are pictures of Rock Hudson and Errol Flynn on the wall by the door, signed and everything. Granted, the photos are a little worse for wear, but the owner won’t take them down for anything.
Malcolm’s already sitting at the bar when we come in. My stomach clenches with excitement at the sight of him. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off at my house yesterday morning. I’m always happy to see my friend, but the buzzing awareness that jolts through me is new. As I approach, his gaze seems to run down my body, but then he looks away and I assume I imagined it.
Despite how awkward I feel, I stop next to him like I would any other day. I don’t want to start acting weird and ruin our friendship. “Already boozing it up?” I say flippantly, forcing a smile.
“Hey, C.” He sounds breathless as he meets my gaze.
I squeeze his shoulder the way I always do, but the warmth in my gut intensifies at the feel of his hard muscles under the thin material of his T-shirt. I’ve touched him platonically many times without noticing how big his muscles are. Something has definitely changed between us. But I try to ignore the new feelings because they only make things harder.
“Did you just get here?” I ask nonchalantly, taking the seat beside him while trying not to fixate on his mouth. I’ve never been so aware of his scent or his full lips. It’s embarrassing and worrisome. I don’t want to feel sexually attracted to him. That thing between us at the hotel was just supposed to be a one-time thing. Why is it so hard to forget?
“Yeah.” He pushes a frosty glass of beer toward me when the bartender sets it down. “I already ordered yours. Figured you two would show up soon.”
“Thanks.” He often orders my drink before I show up, and I do the same for him. But when our fingers brush as I take my glass, a tingle zips up my arm and I flinch. I keep my face blank, hoping no one noticed the way I reacted to his touch. I feel a little sweaty and overheated. It suddenly occurs to me that I forgot to take my heat suppressant pills the last few days. God, the last thing I need is to go into heat. I dig the small vial of pills from my pocket and wash one down with my beer.
Malcolm looks past me at my partner. “Cheyenne, what can I get you to drink?”
“I’m in a gin and tonic kind of mood.” She slaps his back and sits on the other side of me. “Thanks.”
Malcolm orders her drink, and I sit stiffly beside him, keeping my leg from touching his. When he leans across the bar to pay for Cheyenne’s drink, his leg bumps against mine and our thighs press together. When he sits down again, he doesn’t seem to even notice that his leg is still touching mine. I’m sure that’s happened a million times over the years and I just never noticed. I’m sure he doesn’t even know it’s happening right now. Unfortunately, since we fooled around together, any brush of him against me feels different. Sexual. It’s really beginning to worry me.
I take a sip of my chilled beer to distract myself.
“How’s it taste?” he asks, giving me a hooded look.
Something about his tone and looking straight into his blue eyes brings back the memory of my lips on his cock. That makes me remember swallowing his creamy jizz and heat floods myface. My heart rate kicks up and I swallow wrong, choking on my beer.
I guess some things are easier to swallow than others.
“Shit. You okay?” Malcolm slaps my back repeatedly, and I wince.
I give a choking laugh and wave him off. “Thanks. You can stop hitting me now.”
He grins and switches to rubbing my back. That does nothing to help the situation, and I have to control the shiver of desire that goes through me at his touch. I tell myself I’m the one acting weird. Malcolm is mostly just being how he always is. He’s a touchy feely kind of guy. Sure, his looks are a little more intense than usual, but overall, he’s not doing anything different.
I clear my throat. “How was your shift today?”
“Good. Kind of quiet, but that’s okay.” He glances over. “How was yours?”
“Depressing, as usual.” I poke at the condensation on my glass. “So many people out there are suffering. Some days it bugs me more than others.”
“Yeah.” Malcolm’s gaze is empathetic.
“I keep telling him he should have been a dog groomer,” Cheyenne teases with a smirk. “It would have been less stressful.”
“Dogs don’t like me,” I deadpan. “I’d probably get my face eaten off.”
“Everybody loves you, C.,” Malcolm says. “You’re extremely charming and likeable.”
