Sheriff’s Secret Page 3

  He and Cato shed their coats as soon as they arrived, both of them obsessed with fashion and looking amazing always. But I wasn’t interested in Cato’s outfit. No, I’ve been salivating over the way Kian’s white shirt is glued to him like a second skin, tucked into the narrow waist of his plaid pants. The mustard-yellow suspenders are what holds his pants up and fuck if that shit doesn’t get my dick hard. There was a time when I would’ve dragged him by the suspenders into his bedroom and peeled his clothes off with my teeth.

  So. Long. Ago.

  I don’t understand how Kian can be so unaffected. Even after all these years. I’m stuck remembering every sordid, hot moment we spent together learning our way around each other’s bodies. I remember the one and only time we had actual sex. How good it felt to sink into his body and claim him as mine. All the blowjobs in the back of my car. Every stolen kiss in the bathroom at school or behind the bleachers after a football game. Each hand job we traded during sleepovers at each other’s houses, though admittedly less happened at mine for fear of my parents finding out.

  The good old days.

  Our senior year of high school was spent sweaty, naked, and starving for each other. We were best friends who fell in love. The sexual compatibility between us was as natural as breathing. Everything was perfect between us.

  Until it was time to come out of the closet.

  “Why am I not enough for you?”

  Fuck, I cried so hard when I denied him what he wanted. I shook my head at his offered rainbow sash he wanted to wear over his graduation gown, but he looped it around my neck anyway, a heartbroken expression on his handsome face as he asked me those words.

  “Why am I not enough for you?”

  He wanted everyone to know he was gay and in love. For me to step out with him and admit it to our peers and families. But I was horrified of ever telling a soul.

  Kian Abrams made me choose between him and secrecy.

  As soon as he walked away, I shoved that sash into my pocket and watched the man I loved strut across the stage proudly owning who he was. Moments later, when my last name was called, I awkwardly walked in behind him, unable to look at the devastated expression on his beautiful face.

  That was the end of us.

  We never talked about it again. No more kisses. No more intimacy. Our friendship faded to nothing. Both of our hearts were broken and it was my fault. While he went on to party with our friends, celebrating the future, I went home and cried for three days straight.

  As if he knows I’m thinking of that night, Kian’s hazel eyes lock onto mine. At almost thirty, he’s sexier than ever before. In high school he was innocent and young, just learning who he was. Now, he’s confident and proud. It only makes him that much more beautiful.

  I try to convey to him with my eyes that maybe we could try again. In secret, at first, but maybe I’d have the balls to come out this time. But his gaze has moved on, not at all interested in my silent, fragile promises.

  “Yummy,” Cato mutters under his breath. “So much yummy.”

  I follow their stares to the idiot who’s decided to finally grace us with his presence. Dante Kincaid. New York dickhead.

  And…fucking hot.

  Lovely.

  I grind my teeth, trying not to be affected by the man strolling into the conference room as though he doesn’t have a worry in the world. His dark brown hair is styled into a sleek, sophisticated way that doesn’t seem to have been phased by the harsh winds. The coat he wears looks expensive. Out of place in our cozy Chamber of Commerce. As though he needs to hop the next flight out of here so he can get to a meeting in Manhattan by dinner.

  His kind doesn’t fit in well around here.

  Too polished. Too fucking fancy.

  He nods in greeting as he peels off his leather gloves and shoves them into his pockets. “Sorry for my tardiness. A little old woman needed an escort to her beauty appointment.”

  The dark, deep timbre of his voice has my icy blood running hot, flooding straight to my dick. Like Cato and Kian, I shamelessly drink in this man. His jawline is sharp and sprinkled in a shadow of dark hair that has me craving to run my fingertip along it.

  What the hell?

  That irritated thought is squashed once I remember he’s the man wreaking havoc in our town. He’s disrespectful of our time and an outsider. Sure, he’s fucking hot, but that doesn’t matter. Especially not to me.

  I clear my throat and pin him with a hard glare. “Take a seat. We have a full agenda to get through.”

  His eyes finally land on mine. Hazel. Just like Kian’s. Well, same color. Kian’s are soft and dreamy whereas this guy’s are sharp and villainous. The scrutinizing way he rakes his stare over me makes me feel as though he’s inspecting my surface for cracks. Like he’s going to slither his way inside and find all of my dark secrets.

  “You must be Sheriff Bell,” he says, his full lips quirking up on one side in a maddeningly beautiful way. “Dante Kincaid. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Cato sighs like this asshole hangs the moon.

  Gritting my teeth, I stand and offer my hand. “Call me Jax.”

  The second his hand slides into mine, I’m jolted by the cold shock of him. I know he’s just come from outside, but I’m blaming it on the fact he’s secretly a vampire come to suck the life out of our town. Definitely a villain. His grip is tight for a fancy businessman from New York. I shake his hand hard, reminding him I’m the head man in this town, not some lovesick boy like Cato ready to worship at his feet. When I’ve had enough of the pissing match we’re in, I jerk my hand back and take my seat.

  It’s difficult not to let my stare roam over Dante as he sheds his coat and settles into the chair beside me. He’s around my height and we’re evenly built, which is surprising. My body has remained fit through years of outdoor activity and good genes. This city boy has biceps that stretch the material of his suit in an enticing way. And the corded muscles in his neck are strong, popping each time he moves. It makes me wonder what else on his suited body is hard and powerful.

  My dick twitches in my jeans and I stifle a groan, motioning for Cato to go over the meeting agenda outline. I’m an idiot to lust over the enemy. And in front of Kian no less. The guy’s probably straight as an arrow. Hell, maybe Brie will have her little fantasy fulfilled and marry herself the good-looking city boy, popping out lots of beautiful babies.

  While Cato goes down the list, I glance at Dante again. He winks at Kian, which sets my spine on fire with fury. Kian grins like they’re sharing a secret. Or, as if they already know each other.

  Which means…

  If this motherfucker is gay and hooking up with Kian—my goddamn Kian—I will blow a gasket. Unbelievable. I scrub my palm over my face, interrupting Cato to address Dante.

  “This isn’t the time or place,” I bite out, pinning him with a murderous stare. “In fact, there’s a club right down the street for that.”

  “Jax,” Kian bites out, admonishing me for my rudeness.

  Ignoring Kian, I faceoff with Dante, ignoring all the other members in the meeting.

  “What is that exactly, Sheriff?” Dante asks, his easy smile gone and replaced by something sinister.

  Everyone around the table looks at me with confusion, not understanding my sudden hostility toward the new guy. Except Cato, Kian, and Dante. They know exactly what I’m talking about. This asshole wants a piece of Kian, and for fuck all I know, maybe already had some.

  “We’re here to discuss…” I trail off, casting a glance at a wide-eyed Cato.

  “The Lobster Crawl,” he offers. “It’s in August, but it takes the whole year to plan.”

  I wanted to discuss why in the hell Dante and his friends are trying to take over our town, but I let it slide. Cato could talk about the Lobster Crawl until he’s blue in the face. It’s his favorite event despite being mostly vegan. As he starts in on some of his ideas for the festival that takes place on the Boardwalk every year, I try not to
wither under Kian’s furious glare.

  Fuck.

  I have no claim to him. Not anymore. But seeing Dante look at him like he’ll have him naked and beneath him later this evening was enough to have me seeing red.

  Dante, no longer interested in salivating over my Kian, studies me much like a mountain lion watches a fox play in an open meadow, as though he could pounce on me any time he wanted to. With such superiority and smugness, I could scream.

  “By August, the B&B will be open,” Dante says, offering commentary to whatever Cato was saying. “We’d be open to holding some of the festivities there. Maybe I could pair up with Kian and we could do a tasting.”

  Pair up with Kian?

  Tasting?

  Kian, interpreting my fury, cuts in. “A wine tasting would be fabulous, Dante. Something different. With all the new, high-end businesses opening in Brigs Ferry Bay and their clientele, I think it’s a great idea.” He cuts his soft hazel eyes my way, a warning flashing in them. “Don’t you think, Jax?”

  Dante smirks at me. Bastard.

  “I can’t promise it’ll be a success,” I grumble out, “but we can add it to the list of festivities.” I point at Martha Joy Hamlin, the owner of the award-winning seafood restaurant in town, also one of our town’s claims to fame. “What are your thoughts regarding the Lobster Crawl?”

  She chatters on about what she and her husband Ed have planned, but my attention is back on Dante. He’s sprawled out in the leather chair, comfortable and seemingly pleased at my response to him, which is pretty damn stupid considering I’m the sheriff around here. Everyone knows you don’t piss off the sheriff.

  Not this guy, though.

  He’s amused and his evil hazel eyes glitter with promise. A shiver teases down my spine at the look he gives me. I can’t decide what his intentions are, but I know whatever they are, they’re ones I won’t like.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, giving me a reprieve from the stare down with Brigs Ferry Bay’s new supervillain. All too happily, I yank it out, hoping it’s Brie with an official police emergency to rescue me from this shitty encounter.

  Fuck.

  Mom: I set you up on a date.

  My stomach bottoms out at reading her text.

  Me: You shouldn’t have. You really, really shouldn’t have.

  Mom: I keep waiting for you to make a move on that poor girl you work with and you never do. Today, while picking up donuts for your father’s office before work, I ran into the loveliest gem. She’s been here since this summer and a sweetheart.

  She. Not he, she.

  But it’s not like Mom knows my sexual preference. No one but Cato and Kian know that about me, and though I’ve never come out and said it to her, probably Brie as well. And apparently, through villainous observation powers, Dante Kincaid.

  Me: I can’t. Busy night.

  Mom: Too bad. I already set it up. It’d be rude not to show. It’s just dinner at Comida’s. Six sharp. Wear your good jeans and do something about your hair. And shave.

  Me: Anything else, Mother?

  Mom: For the love of God, don’t bring your dog.

  Me: But Ox loves Comida’s…

  Mom: You’re almost thirty years old now. I’m starting to think I’ll die before you finally settle down with a lovely girl. Do as you’re told and fill me in tomorrow. Pops says hi.

  Me: Fine. Hi, Dad.

  I pocket my phone, holding in a sigh. The last thing I want to do is have dinner with a woman and give her the wrong idea, but maybe it’s what I need. It’s not like I haven’t dated since high school, I’ve just dated the wrong sex. Going out with a woman, and occasionally falling into bed with her, to try and convince myself I can get over the whole thing with Kian, has been the only times in the past eleven years I didn’t feel so alone. A gay man can perform sexually with a woman if he’s desperate enough.

  Shameful.

  I’m disgusted with myself that I can’t man up and come out to the whole damn world. I’m gay. I’ve loved Kian Abrams as more than a friend since I was seventeen years old. If I could just bite the bullet and claim him, he might give me a second chance. The string of guys I know he’s dated over the years will prove to be meaningless when he has me back in his arms.

  “Are we going to talk about the Rainbow Vigilante or keep dancing around the fact that our town is being vandalized?” Ned Townsend, president of BFB Bank & Trust, asks, his beady eyes on me. “Hmm, Sheriff?”

  All eyes fall to me and I try not to squirm.

  “Ned,” I grind out. “I told you if you want to make an official report, come down to the station and do it. The Chamber meeting isn’t the time or place for it.”

  “I, personally, think it’s cute,” Cato offers. “They’re rainbows. Who doesn’t love rainbows?”

  Ned scowls. “I don’t. Rainbows are for fagg—”

  “What rainbows?” Dante barks out, cutting off the old man’s hateful remark, saving me from having to do so. “Where are they?”

  Fran, our local coffee shop owner, perks up. “I got one.” She grins at Dante. “It’s about a foot high and two feet wide. Just above my big shop window. Honestly, I’ve gotten nothing but compliments about it.”

  Ned grumbles. “Paul doesn’t share your sentiments.”

  “Paul is an idiot,” Fran throws back, making her best friend Martha Joy giggle.

  “Who’s Paul?” Dante asks, his narrowed hazel eyes bouncing between Fran and Ned.

  “Paul Hayes is the owner of the BFB Daily Herald,” Cato explains. “The Rainbow Vigilante left a rainbow on his window.”

  “And he had to pay to have it scraped off,” Ned exclaims, his face turning red from anger. “Just like Fran will have to do to have her shop repainted!”

  “Oh, no,” Fran argues. “I’m keeping it. Super charming and welcoming.”

  “I agree, honey,” Martha Joy chirps. “Maybe the Rainbow Vigilante will do something about my front window too.”

  Before Ned can argue, I lift a hand, cutting him off. “If you want to make a statement, go see Brie,” I grind out. That’ll get her bratty ass back for giving me the Mr. Clementine call earlier. “If we’ve covered everything, then this meeting is adjourned. Cato will email the meeting minutes and update everyone on the Lobster Crawl suggestions.”

  Everyone stands, dutifully shaking hands before dispersing. I’m left with Cato lingering at my side, Kian scowling at me, and Dante throwing a maddening smirk my way.

  “Kian,” Dante rumbles, his voice smooth and alluring. “Do you have a minute?”

  And like Kian’s caught on a hook, Dante reels him his way with a motion of his hand and a charming smile. All I can do is glare at him.

  Dante

  Welcome to Brigs Ferry Bay…

  My sister failed to mention the adorable twink population. It’s like she doesn’t even know me. Kian is the kind of guy I want to drag into my lap and make purr like a kitten. Hell, I’ll even invite his cute friend, Cato, too. A boy for each thigh. A dick for each of my hands. I can tell I’m going to enjoy the…scenery. That’s for damned sure.

  “What’s up?” Kian asks, his hazel orbs bright and curious.

  Before I reply, I dart my eyes over to the growly, seriously hot sheriff. He doesn’t put off gay vibes, but he’s sure as hell protective over Kian. Too bad he doesn’t swing my way. I’d love to bend his mean ass over the back of a squad car and show him who the real sheriff in this town is. As though the bastard can read my thoughts, his piercing brown eyes pin me in place.

  Fuck, he’s intense.

  Angry. Jaded. Grumpy as hell.

  Sheriff Bell is the poster child for Brigs Ferry Bay. All rugged, masculine beauty from his sexily wind-tousled hair to the lazy scruff growing on his cheeks to the prominent Adam’s apple that’s distracting as fuck each time he swallows. His dark jeans are worn and well-broken in. The large scuffed-up black boots on his feet are a good indicator of what size dick he’s packing. The fitted, navy long-sl
eeved shirt with SHERIFF emblazoned across the front screams manly mountain town cop who’s probably a filthy bastard who’s not afraid to wield the shiny handcuffs hooked to his belt.

  “Mr. Kincaid?” Kian says, dragging my attention back to him. “Don’t mind him. He’s not always like that. Just having a bad day, I think.”

  “Call me Dante,” I rumble. “Please.”

  “Okay, Dante.” Kian smiles as he places his hands on his narrow hips—hips I can imagine bruising with my fingers while he rides my dick. “What do you need?”

  You.

  Keening and sweating while you scream my name.

  His cheeks blush bright pink as though he can hear the words as I think them. Maybe it’s because my dick is at half-mast right about now and about to poke him in the stomach.

  “We met briefly before,” I remind him. “This summer at your establishment.”

  “I remember a pretty face,” he teases, hazel eyes twinkling.

  “Thought you might be up for a drink later or something.” I step closer, trying to scent what brand of soap he uses. “You could give me a welcome tour.” Of your bedroom.

  He laughs and shakes his head as he takes a step back. “I have work to do at Blur tonight. You could stop by, though, and have a drink.”

  Before I can reply, a furious presence approaches, standing so close to Kian and me, it’s almost as if he’s aching to come between us and physically push us a part. I tilt my head to the side and lock eyes with the menacing sheriff. His boy toy, Cato, practically bounces with excitement beside him.

  “We’re having drinks?” Jax asks, his fiery eyes never leaving mine. “What time?”

  Kian chokes on a laugh. “It’s at Blur not Focus. Not exactly your scene, Sheriff.”

  Jax’s jaw clenches and he gently touches Kian’s shoulder, turning his attention on him. “It’s been forever since we shared a drink. May not be my scene, but I’d love catching up with you.”