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“You texted me,” Henri said. “Does that ring a bell?”
“Of course. After I found out you were at the wedding, I wanted to know why you didn’t come and see us.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. You texted me as I was about to go and knock on the door of that hot cop you invited to the wedding. But after that, my dick didn’t want anything to do with anyone.”
Priest processed all of that, then finally said, “You mean Bailey? You and him—”
“Did nothing, thanks to you. But yes, that’s who I mean. Officer Bailey, I believe is what he called himself when he pulled me over yesterday, and I want you to give me his number.”
Priest sized him up for a second, and then rubbed a hand over his beard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t believe I fucking asked you.”
“He’s a cop, Henri. Stop thinking with your dick and use your brain for a minute. This is not smart.”
Henri bristled at the implication that he was stupid. Considering who he was and what he’d done in his life, the last thing he planned to do was get involved with Bailey—he just planned to get laid. “If you won’t give it to me, I’m sure the princess will be more than happy to help.”
Priest walked around his desk and muttered to himself as he scribbled something on a Post-it note. He snatched up the small square of paper, strode across the room to shove it in Henri’s hand, then hauled him in so close that their clothes brushed against one another. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to. I’m not an idiot, Joel. I like my freedom, and I’d never jeopardize yours.”
“Then walk away from this one.”
“Like you walked away from Julien and Robbie? I thought if anyone would understand the rush of having something he wasn’t supposed to, it would be you.”
Priest cursed and then stroked his thumb over the black diamond on Henri’s finger. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do—”
“There’s a first.”
“But be fucking careful, would you?”
Henri ignored the way his heart skipped at those words. “Why, you worried about me?”
Priest’s eyes roved over Henri’s face, his expression softening a fraction as he said, with the utmost seriousness, “I’ll never stop worrying about you.”
Henri swallowed the lump of emotions that got caught in the back of his throat, and decided a switch of topic would be best for the both of them. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
Priest’s lips twitched at the less-than-sincere tone. “Thank you.”
“I hate you. You know that, right?”
Priest nodded and let him go. “Almost as much as I hate you.”
Henri took a step back and looked down at the number, then he gave a quick nod and slipped out the office door.
“SO LET ME see if I have this right.”
Bailey looked over to Xander from where he was sitting on the recliner in his living room. After they’d finished eating, Bailey had grabbed a shirt and met his friend in a more comfortable setting, and as Xander stretched his legs out on the ottoman, he eyed Bailey closely.
“Two weeks ago, at the trio wedding, you met a smoking-hot guy that you thought about hooking up with, and you’re only telling me this now.”
Of course that was the part Xander decided to fixate on, the fact that he had been left out of the loop. Not the part where the hot guy had left Bailey high and dry—and then Bailey pulled him over yesterday morning.
Nah, that wasn’t important at all. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Okay. First off, why didn’t you tell me? And second, since when do we keep things from each other?”
“I’m not keeping things from you,” Bailey said, choosing to ignore the first half of Xander’s question.
“Then what would you call it?”
“You promised not to give me shit.”
“About the guy, not about keeping it from me.”
Bailey brought an arm up to rest it over his eyes and groaned.
“You can bitch and moan all you like, Bay. But you look like shit, which means you haven’t been sleeping, which means you’ve been stressing. Something you wouldn’t have been doing if you had talked to me.”
Damn it. He hated it when Xander was right. He lowered his arm and said, “Sorry, okay?”
“Okay. So start talking. Tell me about this guy.”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Bailey didn’t know anything about Henri.
Xander chuckled. “Do you at least know his name? Or were you planning to be a total slut that night?”
Bailey aimed a glare in his friend’s direction, which made Xander laugh even harder.
“So, total slut, then.”
“No. I know his name. It’s Henri.”
“Hmm, this Henri guy must’ve been something else to make Saint Bailey look twice.”
“I’m hardly a saint.”
“Agreed. In bed, there’s nothing saintly about you. The problem is, you basically require a ring on your finger to take someone there.”
