He put a hand on his hip. “One-eyed worm hole, cock sock, love canal, you know what I mean.”
I gaped at him, unsure of what to say, and, if I’m honest, a bit jealous of his creative vocabulary for the female sex.
“You didn’t love Lance,” Jayson continued. “You didn’t even respect him. You allowed the relationship because it was convenient and easy, but you kept it on your terms. You set the pace and defined and enforced the boundaries, just like you do with everything else.”
Okay, so I was a control freak. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. “I assume you have a point?”
“You won’t be able to do that with Link. Honey, you can’t keep that man at an arm’s length. He is intense, the type of man who gets what he wants. Hell, if I wasn’t already gay, I’m tellin’ you, he could turn me.” He picked up a sheet of paper and fanned himself. “I mean it. It’s that not-putting-up-with-any-shit attitude, it’s the tattoos and the muscles, and the… Ohmigod, did you see what he’s packing? That’s not just some average garden snake he’s wielding. He’s gotta be smuggling a python in those jeans.”
Yes, I had definitely noticed Link’s bulge. I mean, how could I not? “None of this matters, Jay, because Link is just a client. It’s a business lunch. Nothing’s going to happen between us.”
Laptop bag slung over my shoulder, I scooted out of my office and headed for the door.
“Right.” Jayson laughed. “Because I’m just a sweet little virgin boy who knows nothing about men.”
Shaking off his crazy, I hurried out of the office.
* * *
I don’t know what I expected the Dead President’s clubhouse to be like—maybe some sort of filthy bachelor pad with a giant orgy in process, stinking up the place (thanks to Jayson’s late-night reading), but the station was a pleasant surprise. Housed in an actual restored old fire station, the floors were clean, there were no funky scents, and the few couples I could see from the entrance had at least most of their clothes on.
Beards, tattoos, and leather cuts, however, did abound.
Link and an adorable shepherd mix greeted me at the front door. I’d always been a sucker for fur babies, and would have rescued my own long ago if not for my busy work schedule. Keeping a dog kenneled for twelve plus hours a day seemed like cruel and unusual punishment to me, so I’d abstained. Since I couldn’t have my own, I always made sure to snuggle everyone else’s.
Careful not to show my business, I smoothed my skirt down as I kneeled to pet him.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Boots.”
“Well, he’s handsome.” Turning to the dog I added, “But you already know that, don’t you?”
He licked my hand and I scratched behind his ears.
Link eyed his watch. “He’s also a service dog that has to get back to work, and we gotta go eat. After lunch I’ll introduce you to my VP, and he’ll show you around. I’ve got a quick meeting next door, but I’ll be back to debrief before you head out.”
Next door? My mind wandered, trying to remember what was on either side of the fire station. A bar and grill to the south, and some sort of outdoor store to the north. Curious about which one would house his meeting, but determined to mind my own damn business, I nodded.
“Sounds great. Lead the way.”
Link led me down a brightly-lit hallway and into an office decorated in all black and white, the focal point of which being a giant MIA flag hanging on the wall above a high-backed chair.
“Depressing, isn’t it?” he asked, stepping into the office behind me.
My gaze drifted around the office, drawn to the dozens of framed news articles hanging randomly. I focused on one… a story about a local soldier committing suicide. The next, statistics about homeless soldiers. Yes, the decor definitely needed a pick-me-up.
“Maybe some fresh daisies or a giant smiley face could brighten the place up,” I noted, sounding awkward even in my own ears.
He smiled. “Yeah. Well, Pops decorated it when he bought the place. Claimed it reminded him why we do what we do; helped him stay focused on the mission. He retired a few years ago, but I don’t have the heart to change it.”
So, Link had a sentimental streak. I filed that little tidbit of information away for later and took a deep breath through my nose. My mouth immediately watered. “Something smells delicious. Is that bar-b-que?”
He led me to the other side of his desk where an impressive spread covered a large coffee table, gesturing for me to have a seat on the black, leather loveseat alongside it. I sat, and he joined me, our knees touching as he passed me a plate.
“Yep. I hope you’re not a vegetarian,” he said, palming his own plate. “They just opened up a new place down the street, and the smell has been killing me. Been dying to try it.”
“Not a vegetarian,” I replied, salivating as I closed in on the food. Ribs, brisket, buns, mac-n-cheese, salad, coleslaw, it was bar-b-que paradise. We both dug in. The food was excellent, and his proximity was strangely companionable. Not weird or uncomfortable at all. It felt like we’d known each other for months, rather than three days. We ate in silence as I surveyed the rest of his office, taking in all the things that made this sexy man tick. The sights didn’t tell me much, so I launched us into an impromptu question and answer session.
