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A shrug. “You said it. Spoke it aloud and made it real.”
”Ass. You a trained barber, too?”
Ambrose took it for the gentle jab it was. “Just years of experimenting with my own face and hair, honestly. Figuring out the best combinations of oils, finding good combs and soaps. That kind of thing.”
“Do I get a hot towel and a beverage?”
“Of course.” Ambrose wiggled his fingers on the armrests. “Full service.”
Barrett’s mouth went dry. “You flirtin’ with me, Tillifer?”
The laugh and lip bite Barrett got in reply sent a bolt of heat through his entire body. “Maybe.” Then reluctance, a spark going out. “Too much, too soon? I know we’re not..” He turned away and Barrett hated that.
“No, it’s fine. More than, really. Just so we know where we stand, and we’re comfortable.” Barrett leaned back in his chair. “It’s good. Good way for us to work out some things. Set some boundaries. And speaking of, this you and me thing.” Ambrose turned back, gaze expectant but wary. “Are we drawing lines with exclusivity now? Is that something you need or want?”
Ambrose immediately shook his head. “No. I’m not looking around. Never was like that.”
He might as well just ask. “I’ve got a sometimes fuck buddy, just a side thing. You might have seen him around recently, but he doesn’t stay.” Barrett sucked in a deep breath. “Does that bother you at all?”
“Gods no.” Ambrose was back at his side now, grey gaze serious. “I would never get in the way. We’re friendly flirting, figuring each other out. Going slow.”
“All right. Just making sure cause it’s definitely not anything more than that.”
Ambrose nodded. “I understand that. A filling of a physical need.”
“Yeah. Yes. Exactly.” It felt good to air that out. He didn’t take Ambrose for the jealous type but people constantly surprised him. “It won’t be a thing that lasts.”
Ambrose leaned down and brushed the pad of his thumb over Barrett’s cheek. It made him shiver. “We’re just testing waters right now. I appreciate your honesty, Barrett. More than I can convey. But we’re good.” His gaze dropped to Barrett’s mouth. “Needs have to be met. And you and I aren’t there yet.”
He let his gaze scrape over Ambrose. Wanted to let the other man feel it like a hand on his body, in his hair, tracing tendons in finely boned hands. The hands of a painter and a musician and a writer. An artist. Lust flickered on the edges of his mind, swirling with the tequila in his system and making him too warm. Something lingered, unsaid. “Yet?”
“Unless you’re looking totesta few boundaries. Because I’ve always loved doing that.” And as he passed by, he squeezed Barrett’s arm. “Another drink?”
It wasn’t until Ambrose was downstairs, making ice clink and bottles rattle, that Barrett laughed and shook his head. It was, apparently, always the quiet ones.
Chapter fifteen
End of March
“Nothing?”
Oz shrugged. “It’s not nothing.” He pointed to the monitor that he, Meredith, and Barrett were huddled around. “See, cameras two and four go out. Conveniently the ones pointed at the storage shed. And then next…” He hit a couple of keys and a new camera feed popped up. “Fire.”
“That shed was about ten years old and we’d just replaced the roof.” Meredith spun in her chair, boot heels squeaking on the cracked linoleum. “There are five sheds in a ten mile radius, and they picked the one we’d just done a bunch of work on.”
“Not accidental,” Oz agreed. He nudged Barrett with an elbow. As he did, he leaned forward, shirt gaping until Barrett could see the dark edge of a bruise. Fucking tease. The bruise was barely twelve hours old, left at three in the morning when Oz begged for Barrett to fuck him into next week. They hadn’t hooked up in a few weeks, Oz’s county job dragging him back as the sabotage investigation sputtered. With no evidence of the perpetrator and no other incidents since early February, there was nothing for him to do.
But he’d shown up on Barrett’s doorstep with a bottle of bourbon and while he might have minded a quiet Sunday getting interrupted, Barrett knew Oz’s cocky smile promised a fun, sweaty evening.
“Ah, gods, fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”
“Been….been a while.”
“Do you need -”
“No. Keep going. Oz. Fuck.′
Heat zipped down his spine and he pushed back from the table. Out of Oz’s reach. Couldn’t get distracted now, and he was more than a little annoyed seeing their lead investigator - their only investigator - not giving the tapes his full focus. The bridges, the fire tower sabotage, and now arson. People had already gotten hurt and it was by sheer luck that it hadn’t happened again.
