Then recognition dawned.
“You’re Colt Michaels,” Cody almost yelled the words. The expressions crossing his face had to be comical.
“Come on, we’ll walk you out,” Mitch yelled, grabbing Cody’s hand tightly, tugging him toward the door. They barely cleared the front entrance before all Cody’s youthful hero worship bubbled to the top. Cody let go of the tight hold Mitch had on him and extended a hand to Colt.
“I’m a huge fan. It seems like I’ve followed your career my whole life. I’m from the same area you grew up in.” He shook Colt’s hand.
“Thank you. You’re from central Texas?” Colt asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m from Kylie’s Corner. It’s a small town outside of Buda, where you grew up. I live in Austin now.”
“That area always feels like home. Meet my husband. Jace, this is…” Colt hesitated.
“I’m Cody. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand to Jace, pumping him with the same amount of vigor he had Colt’s.
“Hi, Cody.” Jace smiled that warm, supersexy grin he’d used on Mitch just a few minutes earlier, and he found himself a little transfixed.
“Cody, it was a pleasure to meet you. We’ve got a couple of blocks to walk to get back to our car. Mitch, I’ll leave the laundry room door open for you. Maybe leave a T-shirt down there so you don’t catch a chill,” Colt teased. For the first time since they were outside, everything settled into Cody. He knew why Mitch seemed so familiar to him. He remembered the details of the Colt Michaels accident and investigation. He’d tracked that case closely, especially once he learned that Colt had come out. The puzzle pieces started falling in place, and Cody’s gaze shot toward Mitch. The guy that was already so far outside of his league had to be Mitch Knox, the deputy US marshal that helped Colt in Hawaii. Damn! This night just kept getting better and better.
Mitch winked at Cody.
“Roger that,” Mitch said, staring at Cody, but talking to Colt.
“Goodnight,” Jace replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jace turning Colt away from watching them.
“You’re a deputy marshal, aren’t you?” Cody asked, hoping Colt and Jace were out of ear shot.
“I see you know the case.” Mitch gave him a half-assed, cocky tooth-filled grin before he handed Cody back his ball cap. Cody looked down at the hat in his hands, that being the whole reason he’d followed Mitch out onto the dance floor to begin with. He slid his hat back in place on his head. The move was more a symbolic gesture, designed to create space between them. If that even made any sense. Whatever, to Cody it made perfect sense. He shifted thoughts in his head once the invisible barriers were now set firmly between them.
For Cody, that Colt Michaels incident had kind of changed his life, made him consider things differently. Colt’s case had definitely reaffirmed his lifelong convictions of wanting to make a difference in the hate of this world. Although Mitch was the hottest thing Cody might have ever laid eyes on, and he had a strong, powerful attraction to the guy, this thing they were doing tonight was all wrong. At this point, Cody couldn’t risk his reputation and fucking a high-profile deputy US marshal sure didn’t seem like a good idea.
Damn, how had he let this night get so far out of control? Surely Texas Ranger wannabe’s didn’t sit up in gay bars waiting for the first guy to come along and pick them up. He’d made a bad judgment call coming here tonight.
Chapter 8
Mitch stepped back and fought the pissed off feeling. He was jealous. What? No, surely he wasn’t… Right? Fucking A! He was jealous! He’d been dancing with this Cody for a couple of hours, bought at least fifty dollars’ worth of alcohol trying to loosen him up, and Colt got more out of him in two minutes than he’d gotten so far.
Mitch made a huge effort to mentally shrug these feelings off. To his core, the fundamental parts of Mitch’s personality were the opposite of jealous—whatever that meant. He didn’t do that green-eyed monster thing—ever. As he watched this whole exchange play out in front of him, Mitch did something he never did. He forced himself to act reasonably.
Through his own internal dialog, he followed Cody’s hand slide inside his front jean pocket, and his first thought erased all the others floating through his head. Cody was going to adjust himself. Since Mitch always found that move sexy, he lost focus as he watched the bulge become more defined as the material stretched across that impressive cock. His mouth actually watered. Mitch had already felt the evidence showing Cody wasn’t a small man. He’d ground enough against him tonight to know his dick was large and in charge, but to see the proof so clearly outlined in Cody’s jeans turned his shit on. It took a second, but he kicked back in gear when he saw car keys pulled out.
“Where are you going?” Mitch asked. Something told him this was a sudden goodbye, not an invitation to ride along back to his hotel.
“Thanks for the dance and the drinks,” Cody started and stepped back. The move was definitely designed to put both literal and figurative distance between them. Panic seemed to show across Cody’s face as he said the words out loud. Why panic? That made no sense. Mitch was certain the guy had been just as into him as he’d been into Cody.
“Why’re you freezing up on me? I’m not gonna attack you.” Mitch cut to the chase. There wasn’t much time to do anything more than confront this head on before Cody bolted. He certainly couldn’t run after the guy, right?
“I’m not.” Cody bit his lip. Right then, Mitch wondered if Cody had done those subtle moves on purpose. Coy, shy blushes and inviting lip bites… Sex on a stick came to mind, and Mitch’s dick begged him to make this right.