Tierney’d kissed him, not in a drunk-and-met-in-a-club way, but in a very this-could-become-a-relationship way. An intimate way. Emotional.
Except . . . did Tierney understand? Maybe it was like one of those hookups that seemed as if they had potential for more, but ended up going wrong once both parties had come.
Tierney may not have been drunk that morning he left, but he was the next thing to it—emotionally strung out and hungover.
He’d thought there was more to them. Convinced himself it could work in the future. Even the fact that Tierney had feelings for Ian hadn’t seemed insurmountable. Even Dalton’s misgivings about repeating his past mistakes hadn’t kept him from hoping Sam’s romance novel logic would hold true.
But he’d led himself astray before. It was possible he couldn’t be trusted to fall in love with anyone suitable.
I sound like one of Sam’s gothic heroines. And this isn’t falling in love.
I want a pizza. He’d brought a couple of Vietnamese salad rolls from home for lunch, but now he was sick at heart and feeling immature and craving a double-cheese pizza. Eating for solace. Ian’s office door opened while Dalton contemplated the merits of having bacon and chicken on his pizza.
“Hey,” Tierney said, coming to stand in front of Dalton. “That went better than it could’ve.” He smiled, lips curling up on one side, hands resting on Dalton’s desk. He’d lost that intent, face-tightening focus he’d had before he met with Ian—now he seemed tired but relieved. As if he’d dealt with the important shit, and now he could deal with the inconsequential things.
Dalton’s anger rushed back, like a wave, drowning out whatever the man was saying. How dare he? Anyone with half a brain would know Dalton’s expectations were realistic, regardless of whether they were gay or straight, and Tierney had fucking ignored him.
Well, that’s just not acceptable. I’ll show him how ignorable I am.
“—was thinking, later, we could like . . .”
Whatever. “Your shirt is kind of—” Dalton waved his finger in circles near his own neck, pretending to explain without actually explaining.
Tierney’s brows drew together. “Huh?” He stared at Dalton, then patted at his throat ineffectively.
“I’ll do it,” Dalton said, standing up and coming around the desk. The closer he got to Tierney, the wider Tierney’s eyes got, and the more frantically he fiddled with his collar. Dalton smiled, but it felt more like baring his teeth. Tierney started backing away.
“Just tell me; I can fix it,” he babbled.
“It’s okay,” Dalton said, holding his palms out nonthreateningly. He feinted to Tierney’s right side, then when Tierney moved to block him, he stepped around the man’s left, inches from Tierney’s back, breathing his scent in—which, yes, smelled like man, and something rich but not quite spicy that was totally unique to Tierney, something other than cologne. And maybe a hint of toothpaste.
This is such a bad idea. What am I trying to prove?
“No, really,” Tierney said. “I don’t need you to—”
Dalton didn’t listen. Instead he touched the man. Faux-accidentally brushing the side of his hand across the skin of Tierney’s neck, and the connection zipped through his fingers, lighting up that old, familiar ache in his chest, feeding it like a drug. Dalton began falling under his own spell.
The touch acted on Tierney too, like an off switch. He froze. Letting Dalton admire him. His skin was darker here, and small hairs bristled at his nape where they’d been clipped off in a neat trim. Well-groomed, unlike the Tierney from before. Kempt rather than unkempt. Masculine. Dalton ignored his urge to finger-comb Tierney’s hair, and started adjusting the shirt collar that didn’t really need it, reaching over Tierney’s shoulder, following it with his fingers as if checking that it was buttoned correctly, pressing against Tierney’s back to do it.
Tierney’s breath sped up.
Dalton smoothed his hand down the front of Tierney’s chest, dangerously close to Tierney’s rapid heartbeat, and where his pectoral muscle swelled out from his sternum. He pulled his hands back slowly, trailing his fingers along Tierney’s lats as he passed over them. They tensed up even further, then relaxed before Dalton continued, having to step away, sliding palms across Tierney’s shoulder blades, as if straightening the fall of fabric down Tierney’s back. Pretending to neaten Tierney.
But it was total shirt porn. Proving to himself he could affect this man. You did it, now stop. Dalton swallowed, bowing his head for a second, still touching him. “You look good. Relaxed.”
Tierney inhaled shakily. “Thanks.”
A door opened down the hallway, and Tierney jerked away from him. Kendra walked out, looking toward Dalton. He smiled automatically, tilting his chin in that welcoming way that people who fixed other’s shit were so adept at.
“Hey . . .” she began.
Tierney shifted next to him, and when Dalton turned, he was already fleeing. “I’ll see you around.” And then he was simply gone, and Dalton was dealing with his coworker, helping her find some random EMS training instructor in Diablo County. All the while thinking the only thing he’d proved by doing that to Tierney was that—like everyone else—he had his petty, childish moments too.
It certainly hadn’t proved that Dalton had any special place in Tierney’s heart, or that Tierney ached for Dalton the way Dalton did for him.
For once Dalton skipped out of work early, but Ian had told him to, so he didn’t feel guilty. Much. He hadn’t been doing his job, anyway; he couldn’t concentrate on work after what he’d done to Tierney. It kept replaying in his head, shaming him. He’d wanted to punish Tierney so he’d used the only tool he had—lust.
It was going to be a long night. He had a heavy load of self-castigation ahead of him.
Now that he lived so close, Dalton tried to walk to and from work, but this morning he’d taken his car because he’d gone to the gym first, which meant that after work, instead of clearing his head with a walk, he had to drive.
The parking structure was still full of cars, but deserted of people when he got to it. Except for one. As soon as he looked up from digging his keys out of his bag, he saw Tierney’s dark-auburn hair and the line of his jaw. Waiting for Dalton—he had to be, why else would he be next to his parking space? Dalton’s heart lifted and bounced gently along, like a carefree balloon at a birthday party.