Page 2 of Jumping In
Six years in the army, almost all of them deployed to Afghanistan, followed by a two-year stint on the Detroit police force had taken away any romantic notions Clint once might have had. But a man didn’t need a child’s fairytale dream of happily-ever-after to be loyal.
The sound of crinkling paper snapped him to attention. He looked at his hand and saw the previously smooth layers smashed into a ball. Shit. Sally was going to kill him. He set the invitation on her desk and tried straightening it out, getting as far as seeing the distorted words “Ewan Gifford’s” next to “engagement” before muttering, “Fuck it. I’ll buy her flowers,” and tossing the whole mess into the trashcan.
“Nice shot.”
A unique combination of whiskey smooth and gravel rough, sometimes in the same word, Clint didn’t need to see the speaker to identify his voice. Only one man sounded like that: Hawk Black, the new deputy mayor. He’d moved into town shortly after the November election and taken over the post from a man who had decided he couldn’t wait for his boss to retire so instead he ran against him in a remarkably ugly campaign. Clint didn’t know what was more surprising: the fact that elections in Hawthorne could get contentious or the fact that a stranger was appointed such a powerful position. Then again, it was possible he paid more attention to the new arrival than other people. And not because of his job title.
Reminding himself to keep his eyes on the deputy mayor’s face and not leer at his imposing body, especially not his groin, which Clint already knew looked damn enticing in a suit, he took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face, and turned around.
“Thanks. Those four years playing in high school are coming in handy now in trashcan basketball.”
“You have the build for playing ball.” The deputy mayor dragged his gaze from Clint’s shoulders to his feet and back up again, making Clint feel as if he were nude despite his boots, jeans, undershirt, flannel, and jacket. “Guy your size, I bet nobody could penetrate your defense.”
The comment didn’t fully make sense, same for the look he was getting, but Clint chalked it up to his brain working at less than full tilt. He had that problem whenever the deputy mayor was near—a direct effect of giving up a good bit of focus to that tall, muscular body, strong square jaw, bright blue eyes, and midnight black hair, and losing the rest of his focus on trying to hide his physical response.
Even Clint’s ex had noticed his reaction to Black, which was really saying something because Ewan had been terrified to be seen with him. But one afternoon, Ewan had happened to walk into the coffee shop where Clint was sharing a table with Black after unexpectedly running into him. In an uncharacteristic move, Ewan had acknowledged him, just a brief hello and an introduction to the deputy mayor. But for weeks afterward, Ewan had tossed out snide remarks that Clint had rationalized as jealousy. It had made sense at the time, but knowing what he knew now, Clint wondered how a man who had been dating someone else himself had the nerve to be jealous of Clint’s reaction to anyone or anything. Asshole.
“There’s that growl again.” The sides of Black’s mouth turned up in an almost-smile. “I’d ask what you were thinking about that has you so roweled up, but—” Black flicked his gaze to the trashcan. “I don’t think he’s worth another second of your time.”
Once again, Clint was lost in the conversation. He really had to listen to Black instead of fixating on the color of his eyes. They couldn’t be contact lenses; he’d looked closely enough to have noticed the tell-tale lines. But never in his life had Clint seen a blue that deep yet clear. Like his rough but smooth voice, it was a contradiction, one of many.
Two hundred pounds and six and a half feet meant Hawk Black was too huge to pull off a fancy suit, but pull it off he did. The smooth fabric draped his broad shoulders and tight ass so enticingly that Clint often fantasized about ravaging the guy with his clothes on, something that had never been his kink.
And it wasn’t just Black’s appearance. Though Clint didn’t know what a deputy mayor’s duties included, he would have thought it’d be mostly glad-handing, but this man wasn’t the type to kiss up to people or blow smoke up their asses. Hawk Black was more stoic than bubbly but, in yet another contradiction, he was also friendly. As a detective, Clint reported to the sheriff so he didn’t have cause to interact with Black for work, nobody at the station did, and yet, Black was frequently there, making conversation and inspiring hard-ons.
“Sally prefers chocolate.”
“Sally?” Clint had been paying attention that time, just not to the conversation. But, honestly, who could blame him with that bulge on display? He wondered if Black wore underwear.
“Ms. Bouvier,” Black said, arching his eyebrows and grinning. “Your friend. You said you were going to buy her flowers. I thought you might want to know that she’d rather get chocolate.”
“Oh.” Though he wanted to ask how Black knew anything about Sally, Clint couldn’t think of how to phrase the question without being insulting. Aside from which, the answer was none of his business. “Thank you.”
“How was your camping trip?” Black asked as he leaned his left shoulder against the wall, folded his arms, and crossed one ankle over the other.
If he wore underwear, they were loose, like boxers, because the tube snaking down his right thigh couldn’t be anything other than a cock and it looked the furthest thing from restrained.
“Clint?”
After shaking his head to clear the hormonal haze, Clint blinked and cleared his throat. “I, uh …” With the thin fabric of his pants, if he wore boxers, wouldn’t lines be visible along the legs? Clint was a jeans guy through and through. He owned a couple of pairs of Dockers for formal occasions but not a suit so maybe he was wrong.
“From the look of your truck, I’d say you must have gone off-road.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Clint licked his lips. “It was great. I did some hiking, found a lake and fished.” He caught his gaze dropping again, internally smacked himself, and looked the deputy mayor in the face. “Cooked over a fire at night.”
“No phone, no computer, nature surrounding you.” Black nodded. “That sounds like almost the perfect trip.”
“Almost?”
“It’d be even better if you had someone with you.” He paused. “Someone who’d enjoy the surroundings and appreciate the company.”
“I took my dogs.” Even if he hadn’t left town to get away from Ewan, Clint never would have invited his ex to go camping. The man wouldn’t have been willing to walk away from his phone or his computer for that long. And while Clint would have loved to fuck out in the fresh air, having Ewan around for other parts of the day would have been less enjoyable. They didn’t share the same interests and Ewan would have complained the entire time about insects, wildlife, and not having access to a shower. “My girls are good company.”
“Speedy and Fluffy, right?” Black chuckled. “I bet they enjoyed having you all to themselves day and night.”
He didn’t remember telling the deputy mayor his dogs’ names but who knew what he said when his brain was on hiatus and his focus was on his dick. And on Black’s dick. Seriously, if Clint didn’t get this unusual attraction under control, he’d end up embarrassing himself and making Black uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he didn’t have anyone to help him out with that project, so he needed to go home and beat off alone. Again.
“Yeah, they did. Good pups.” Clint knocked both hands against the desktop and straightened. “All right, I better get going.” He cleared his throat. “Sally said I need another shower.”
