Page 11 of Undercover
My phone dinged.
With a sigh, I unclenched my fingers and took a look…and there was Alec’s name on the screen.
With fingers now shaking a little, I poked the message to bring it up.
Hey. Want to meet up this evening? I’m open.
My heart did another of those embarrassing flip-flop things and then settled into the steady beat of disappointment.
What had I expected, a figurative bouquet of roses and bottle of champagne? He’d messaged me. That meant his interest hadn’t disappeared overnight…but a guy who waited until two in the afternoon to check in and then didn’t even bother trying to flirt read more like someone with nothing better to do than someone who hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me.
And oh, fuck, but I didn’t want to go there again. Joey had screwed up my whole life. Well, okay,I’dscrewed up my whole life. But Joey had catalyzed the screw-up, and had also been a large part of the screw-up, and I knew another guy who didn’t care about me and wouldn’t look out for my best interests could only make everything worse.
Well, said the devil on my other shoulder,you’ve already fucked up your doctorate. You’re single. You don’t have any real friends, because all the people you could trust have actual lives and don’t have time to drink and sit around with you. Why not?
Self-respect, possibly? But nah. Not much of that left, honestly.
So what if Alec didn’t care enough to try to entice or seduce me? He’d still be up for fucking me, and as long as he wasn’t actively unkind to me, I’d be into it. Who was I trying to kid? I’d probably be begging for it, based on my pathetic performance the evening before.
I texted back:
Sure, I’m open too. What did you have in mind?
My phone didn’t ping again for ten minutes. Playing it cool, or just really, really not that interested?
Can you meet me at 8? Vino and Veritas? Wine bar side.
I bit my lip, mulling that over. V and V had a super chill vibe, but even so Alec might stand out a little. Eight o’clock. Yeah, probably purposely a little late for dinner, which meant booze and bed. Well, at least that showed me exactly what category Alec had put me in.
I texted him back and got in the shower again, needing to jerk off more than ever.
It wasn’t until after I’d finished up and stepped out that I realized how weird it was that Alec had been texting me in correctly spelled sentences with full punctuation. Everyone thought I was weird for texting that way, but Alec…didn’t seem like the type.
Maybe he’d surprise me. I dressed with my usual careful lack of care, but I hesitated for a minute over my underwear drawer, my face heating. I’d made an impulse purchase a while back, but never had the courage to wear them. I fingered the soft silk and lace of the made-for-men panties I’d bought online after a porn session and a few drinks.
God, the thought of Alec seeing me in them…and then the thought of how he’d probably be totally turned off intervened in my fantasy.
Fine. I’d wear my favorite black briefs, a good compromise. And maybe I’d wear the others for him another time. Maybe he’d surprise me in a good way. My life hadn’t had a lot of those lately. Surely, I was due.
Alec
At a quarter after eight, still waiting for Gabe to show, I ordered a second drink. Getting plastered might not help me solve my case, but it’d definitely help me ignore the feeling sitting heavily in my chest, the feeling that bordered unacceptably on hurt.
The young guy behind the bar set down another beer, nodded, and worked his way back down the bar, greeting the couple of customers who’d just walked up. It wasn’t the same guy who’d given me the books, thank God. I didn’t need this to be any more awkward.
Ugh, I didn’t feel hurt. Fuck that. Disappointed. I was disappointed not to be making any progress on my sort-of lead, and annoyed. And pissed off. That felt more familiar.
I ought to be feeling lucky. Gabe might be the best lead I’d gotten so far.
On the other hand, classifying my encounters with Gabe as good luck might be stretching the point a little. I’d gotten nothing but blue balls and a massive headache so far. Lots of people had connections to companies that did something-or-other with boats.
I looked up as the front door opened, just in time to see Gabe scurry through, his face pink and his hair tousled, like the breezy evening had been having its way with him. He shot a totally insincere smile at me as he spotted me, weaving his way over to the bar as quickly as the knots of people standing around with wineglasses in hand would let him. He turned his head to speak to a guy as he passed. I couldn’t hear what he said over the faint clink of glassware and muted buzz of voices, and the strains of something smoky and saxophony coming from the speakers, but it looked like it might be an apology for jostling the man’s drink.
His profile took my breath away for a second. The curve of his ass, the long, lean lines of his back and shoulders, and the surprisingly stubborn-looking jut of his jaw…yeah, Gabriel John Middleton was worth staring at.
And completely off-limits, despite the fact that I’d been the one to invite him on a date. If it turned out I needed to investigate him, fucking him first couldn’t happen. And if, as seemed more likely, he turned out to be uninvolved in my case, then fucking him in order to find that out would make me the scum of the earth.
Gabe fetched up next to me with a little bounce against the bar. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly. “I—you know, I always run late, and I really should’ve told you that earlier so you wouldn’t be waiting. I know twenty minutes is really kind of unaccept—” He broke off, biting his lip, as I stood from my bar stool. “You’re not leaving, right?”
