Chapter Four
Tyson
As I waited in my cold car for Donovan to come down from visiting Cole Hamilton in the hospital, I went through a series of debates in my mind.
Should I turn on the heat?
Nope—global warming is a thing, and you don’t want to contribute to carbon pollution.
Should I offer Donovan cab fare and head back to the office?
Nope—you offered to take him home, and you want him safe.
Should I offer to see him to the door and go in if he invites me?
Danger. Danger. Danger.
And yeah, of course you should. There…might be a burglar in his house or something.
Or something.
Donovan would be safe. From the outside world, at least. From me was a whole different story.
I wanted to fight the attraction—to deny the urges my body made when I looked at the man.
Over the years, I’d trained myself to never use a description of the body first. I’d say to a woman that she was intelligent, witty, smart…
then compliment her attractiveness. By the same logic, I should find something about Donovan I found attractive other than his hunky body.
Like his quick wit, willingness to sacrifice his own life, or his deep understanding of what made people tick.
His treatment of Dr. Hamish McAllister made that abundantly clear.
At every turn, Donovan had Hamish’s number.
I’d never seen a man blush so often. Or do it in just such a flawless way.
Doc had pale skin that perfectly reflected his every sentiment.
He had no guile. Let everything show. How he survived as a counselor, I had no idea.
I was on the pale side myself—mid-winter, at least—and I ensured my features were always schooled.
Hamish’s blushes had me wanting to delve deeper with him as well.
The men presented a study in contrasts—and I found both attractive.
It’d been a long time since I’d let myself feel attracted to a man.
Being married for all those years had me closing off aspects of my sexuality—I’d had my wife, and that had been enough.
I hadn’t looked at other people that way.
Sure, I could note someone met or exceeded society’s arbitrary definition of beautiful, but I never let myself sink into wanting them physically.
I maintained fidelity in both body and mind.
Truthfully, I’d been okay with that. Death do us part and all that.
I believed then—and still did today—that someone could pick a partner and be devoted for their entire lives.
Twelve years I’d given Tammy—a good chunk of my adult life. For all that, she’d left me anyway.
And Donovan? Hamish? Neither’d come out and said they were gay, but I’d have bet money both were. Donovan seemed like a guy who might swing both ways, but that was just an impression. Maybe because he’d be so clearly attractive to both genders.
Well, so would Hamish. All lean and endearingly awkward. Chicks dug guys like that…and certain men would as well.
I’d never had a type. Yeah, that sounded improbable, but I was just being honest with myself. I could be looking at someone devastatingly beautiful—and if they had a black heart, I wouldn’t give them a moment’s notice.
Glancing over at the hospital, I was just about to turn on the engine when I spotted Donovan sprinting over. I leaned over to open the door, and he caught it, slid in, and had it closed.
He exhaled, then cocked his head at me. “You like icicles?”
As I had earlier today, I secured his seat belt.
This time, he snagged my right elbow with his left hand and held me tight to him.
I could escape. Of course, I could escape. But as I gazed into those deep-brown eyes—mesmerized—I didn’t want to.
“Cole’s going to be okay.”
His words washed over me, a bit like a bucket of ice water. I moved to pull back.
He tugged me closer. “I’m not sure I ever will.”
The vulnerability in those eyes called to me. Spoke of someone stuck in genuine pain—not something made up for sympathy but genuine grief. “You did everything you could.”
“She shot Cole.”
“And you stopped her from shooting him again—or anyone else. Who knows what she might’ve done? Quite possibly, you saved a lot of lives.” I gestured to his right arm. “And got shot yourself.”
He tried to avert his eyes. To deny my words.
I grasped his chin and drew his gaze back to me.
With his strength, even with a bad arm, he could’ve pushed me away.
He didn’t.
“You need to talk to Hamish about this. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need help. Others will see you getting help and will feel okay in reaching out as well. You can continue to lead—”
“Lead?” He scoffed the word.
I held his gaze. “Everyone I’ve spoken to makes it clear that, although Cole’s the star, you’re the one they often look to for leadership. That you make safety a top priority and hold everyone to a high standard. I heard you got a guy fired—”
He rolled his eyes. “Julie nearly took out his eye with her stiletto heel. I couldn’t have that kind of incompetence on my set. Do you know how Julie would’ve felt? And it wouldn’t have been her fault. The guy wasn’t paying attention—”
“And you took care of it. That’s your gift. Just like you took care of the shooter.” I hesitated to use Meggibeth’s name because she’d once been a friend to every one of these people. That betrayal cut deep. Really deep.
Still, Donovan held my elbow. Held me close.
With the hand that’d held his jaw, I slowly stroked his cheek. No screamed my professional side.
Oh yes screamed the man within me. The man desperate for another person’s touch. The man needing to make a connection—no matter how unethical it might be.
His cheek bore a day’s stubble. But of course. He wouldn’t be able to shave. Every photo I’d seen of him, he’d been clean-shaven. Same with Cole.
“You’ll need help to shave.”
“I thought women see scruff as sexy.”
“I can’t speak for most women.” My ex-wife detested facial hair—but I sure as shit wasn’t bringing her up in this moment.
“Some men see it as sexy as well.”
“I don’t have a preference. I mean, clean-shaven like Hamish…or a little scruff like yourself…” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to regret the words.
He trailed his hand up my biceps to my shoulder, along my collarbone, up my neck, and raked his fingernails gently across my cheek. “You shaved this morning.”
I nodded.
“Your beard grows fast.”
I nodded.
“You ever let it grow?”
“For a few days when I’m off, sure. But never more than that.”
“Ah, so scruff. Scruff is sexy to me.”
“I’m glad.” My words came out on an exhalation. I was glad. I wanted him to be attracted to me. Because I sure as fuck was to him.
“Can I convince you to kiss me?”
I liked that he asked—that he acknowledged, in a roundabout way, that this broke all the rules.
There, though, under darkening winter skies—and in the chilly front seat of my car—I realized I could deny him nothing. “Yeah.”
As he leaned toward me, my eyes drifted shut. Our lips touched.
Where I expected a light brushing of lips, Donovan snagged the back of my head and dragged me closer. Using my surprised gasp, he thrust his tongue into my mouth. He dominated, demanded, and brooked no opposition. He took control.
I let him. I grasped his jacket and attempted to bring him even closer. Desperately, I unzipped his coat and reached my hand inside. I yanked up his shirt to touch bare skin.
He sucked in a breath.
Shit. Yeah, my hand was icy. Yet I didn’t relent in my pursuit to touch every inch I could get my hand on.
If I wasn’t worried about getting arrested, I’d thrust my hands down the front of his sweatpants. As it was, I angled my hand so my palm brushed over his crotch.
Over his very firm erection.
Matching my own.
Wildly inappropriate.
And yet I didn’t care.
When he raked his fingernails along my scalp—through my short hair—I nearly lost it right there.
He growled as he pulled back. “Come back to my place.”
I let out a little puff of a laugh. “I’m driving you home.”
“I mean come up.”
“Donovan—”
“We don’t have to do anything. Just…” He looked away. Out toward encroaching night.
I looked as well, relieved to see no one in our corner of the parking lot. An audience would definitely have been a bad thing, but most people hoofed to their cars and dove in to jack up the heat in this cold weather.
“Just…” I prompted.
He gazed back at me. “It sounds stupid.”
“Nothing you say is stupid.” Instinctively, I understood someone in his past had called him stupid and he’d internalized it. Many people did, and I saw it clearly within him.
“I keep thinking how close I came to losing Cole. And how I see him as my best friend, but he already has two best friends. And they’re just words, but…”
“You feel excluded.”
His eyes closed for a moment as if in relief. “Yeah, exactly. He’s got Michael and Caressa. He doesn’t need me. They don’t need me. I mean, I’m not in the way, and they’re happy to see me, and I’m one of the few people allowed, and that should mean something, right?”
“It means everything.” I ran my hand along his shaved head and then cupped his jaw. He needs a hat. “You are as close to Cole as a brother.”
He blinked.
“I can see it. Julie mentioned it.” And I shouldn’t be saying what another witness said, but he needed to hear this. “Just because he has two people who are closer to him doesn’t mean you don’t matter. And besides, they’re all romantically involved, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“So who’s he going to talk to when he needs a break from all that lovey-dovey crap? Sometimes guys just need to shoot the shit, and that can be tough to do with the person you’re sleeping with every night.”
“Your wife?”
I was surprised at his leap. He had me pegged in so many ways.
Yet I hadn’t said anything. The tan line from the ring had disappeared when the sun vanished in late September.
Certainly, I tried to never give any indication to anyone about my relationship status—especially victims and perpetrators.
Yet in this moment, he demanded honesty. “Yeah, my ex-wife.”
He winced.