Vahin paused, then stood and smiled down at him. “Great.” He appeared to consider things again. “Tell you what. I don’t wanna pressure you, so I’m gonna get dressed and head out. You take your time, eat the toast, do a coffee refill, and try to not throw up all over my apartment. If you still want to see me tonight, leave me your number on the kitchen counter or something, and I’ll text you about when and where. If you don’t”—he shrugged—“no harm, no foul. I had a great time.” Another smile and he turned and began pulling on the jeans off the floor.
Marlon stared at him, more out of amazement than staring at that perfect body. “Seriously?”
Vahin paused, having just zipped up his jeans.
“You’re going to leave me in your apartment? You don’t even know me.”
He gave a wicked grin and shrugged, then grabbed the T-shirt off a nearby chair. “You’re a cop. If you rob me blind, I’ll find you and have you arrest yourself. And I’ll use the handcuffs on you instead of the other way around.”
“I know this isn’t the best date option Denver has to offer, but it shouldn’t take too long, and there’s some great restaurants to choose from.” Vahin pointed toward the opposite block. “Like that Mexican place there—very good. Their nachos aren’t as great as Mary’s, but the rest is better than decent.”
Marlon followed Vahin’s motion but didn’t really inspect the restaurant. Words seemed too hard to find, partly due to the lingering hangover, but mostly because he was on a date. On an actual date, in public. How long had it been? Much longer than his most recent string of hookups, and even those had grown distant by this point. He’d been nervous pulling up to Vahin’s apartment, still marveling that he’d left his number, but it was nothing compared to when Vahin announced they were going to the First Friday Art Walk on Santa Fe. He should’ve suggested something else, anywhere else, but he hadn’t been able to think of a plausible reason quickly enough.
Vahin either didn’t pick up on Marlon’s nerves or was simply too polite to point them out. Probably the latter. He did a good job of holding up their conversation and not letting it wither and die, even if his topics were growing more forced by the minute. “Pat and I didn’t finish shopping for dishes today. She had to go in for her shift at the hospital. We kinda got carried away with having more fun than actual shopping.” He gave a forced smile. “I can’t say I enjoy shopping all that much, but I thought it might be fun with you. A good way to get to know you better. I mean if looking at tacky, mismatched dishes together doesn’t tell you something about the other person, then something’s wrong.” Vahin flushed slightly, his words tapering off. He angled toward one of the stores. “Let’s check here. If I don’t find any dishes that I want in the next one or two places, we’ll call it and grab dinner.”
The art walk happened once a month. Every one of the antique shops and art galleries opened their doors to the thousands of people wandering around sipping wine and sampling free tapas offered by the restaurants scattered among the stores. In truth, even though they were shopping for Mary’s, Marlon realized Vahin had picked a perfect date. One that was low pressure and had a constantly shifting environment and endless topics for conversation. Perfect if the poor guy weren’t on a date with a cop. The influx of people meant an increase of officers patrolling the area. All Marlon needed were rumors rushing through the police force about him on a date with a man.
Stepping inside the antique shop offered a little relief. Few people, less open. Not perfect but better. Marlon glanced back at the open front door, as if his entire department might come waltzing through. He’d said yes to the date, to his own astonishment. He needed to make an effort before the whole thing imploded and Vahin told him to fuck off.
He followed Vahin through the cluttered store, past statues and mercury glass vases to a row of dishware. Marlon didn’t have the slightest inclinations about decorating. As Vahin shifted through some of the ugliest flower-pattern plates that ever existed, Marlon grabbed the closest thing to him—a wine goblet with a blown-glass giraffe acting as the stem. It was probably supposed to be fancy and maybe had even been expensive at one point. Marlon found it hideous, but what did he know? He held it out toward Vahin and cleared his throat before speaking. “What about this thing? Are you shopping for wineglasses too, or only plates?”
Vahin looked over, probably surprised Marlon had finally found words. He shook his head. “No, we just need plates and some more bowls at the moment.” His gaze drifted down to the glass, and his lips curved into a smile. “Wow. That thing is… something.” He returned the plate he’d been inspecting and moved close to Marlon, taking the wineglass. “That is ridiculous. And perfect. Are there more?”
Marlon checked, but shook his head, then moved aside a couple other glasses near the front. “Actually, yes. There are.” He reached in and withdrew two more wineglasses. He held them up. “A seahorse one and a… is that a penguin?”
Vahin laughed and took the offending glass. “Maybe. It might be a panda. Either way, it’s perfect kitsch.” He placed the glass back on the shelf and motioned for Marlon to follow. “For sure getting those, but help me with these. It seems you’re a magnet for the truly and spectacularly offensive, which is exactly what I need right now. Work your magic on these plates, my man.”
Marlon only hesitated for a second at the wordsmy man, then pushed them aside. It was an expression. Though part of him liked the sound of it coming from Vahin’s lips. Within moments, they were both laughing as they uncovered some of the tackiest plates and bowls that ever existed. It seemed Marlon really did have a superpower for finding low-class dishware. Perfect. Exactly the power every cop needed.
After another fifteen minutes, they were walking out the door, each with a huge bag of bubble-wrapped dishes. The air of levity that had settled over them fell away as they returned to the sidewalk and the crowds. Again Marlon glanced around but saw no one he knew. The sunset had begun to stain the sky. He’d feel more comfortable once it was darker.
Vahin apparently didn’t notice Marlon’s shift in mood. “I don’t know if I would have found those dishes anyway if you’d not been here, but you sure feel like the lucky charm of décor, at least a certain type of décor. I can’t let Pat know how good you are at this. She’ll kidnap you for sure.”
They weaved through the throngs of people, mostly anonymous, save for the frequent looks they received. With each one, Marlon analyzed the meaning. He had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t in uniform. They didn’t know. They were simply noticing two men. Two large, muscular men of color. That was more likely the issue. Though, some of the gazes had more to do with lust than anything else.
Whether Vahin didn’t notice or simply chose not to, Marlon wasn’t sure. He was so busy watching the people around them that he flinched when Vahin slipped his free hand into his. Marlon jerked his hand away without even thinking.
Vahin looked into his eyes, his expression wounded. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
Anger spiked momentarily, then faded just as quickly. Vahin wasn’t a cop. He didn’t know. “No, I’m sorry. I was… startled.”
Vahin raised an eyebrow but didn’t offer any further commentary.
“Really. I’m sorry. This part is….” Marlon couldn’t meet Vahin’s gaze any longer, so he glanced away, his words trailing off as ice seemed to be dumped over his head.Oh shit.Narrowing his eyes, he leaned closer, taking in the patio of the restaurant across the street.
No way. No fucking way. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Andrew sat at one of the tables, holding hands with a woman with dyed platinum-blonde hair. And he was staring in their direction.
Marlon turned, facing away.
“What’s going on?” Vahin twisted around to look in the direction where Andrew was sitting.
“No, don’t turn around!” Shit. He sounded utterly panicked.
He felt Vahin’s gaze on him. “Marlon, what’s going on?”
