His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

Hart scratched at his beard. “Hope you don’t mind if I share.”

Her cheeks were flushed. “Of course. I just want to make sure you get a plate, Captain. I know how crafty that Fox is. He’ll eat half of it by himself.”

When she was in the elevator he let out a long sigh. The far one opened and Carlos stepped out with a concerned scowl on his face, “What’s going on? And, why aren’t you in the showers yet? Your boss will be here within the hour.”

Hart put his hand on Carlos’ shoulder, stopping him. Without his Energizer-bunny-like assistant he’d be lost. The people of importance in his world went from Fox, God, Dinah, then Carlos. He needed a daily dose of those people to help him manage and get through his hectic day-to-day life. However, he was not in the mood for Carlos’ motor mouth. He hadn’t been sure he and the five-foot-six, quick-witted man-boy would click when he’d interviewed for the position. But from the moment he’d walked into Hart’s office, he’d owned him. That had been two years ago. And just like he had on day one, Carlos could anticipate Hart’s needs without him having to voice it.

Hart rubbed his palm up to the pulsing at his temple. “I’m going now. I got sidetracked.”

“Here take this.” Carlos held out his hand.

Hart automatically reached out and took the small, white folded packet. Carlos always knew what he needed. Bless you, little man. He opened the packet and dumped the bitter BC powder on his tongue and accepted the already opened bottle of orange juice from Carlos’ other hand.

“Thanks.” Hart grimaced.

“I sent for two steak bagels, they should be here in time for you to scarf them down before Lark gets here.” Carlos’s voice elevated, his hands flailing as he shoved at Hart’s chest, “But not if you don’t go and get your big ass in the damn showers! My gosh. Hurry up. You got a fresh uniform in your locker.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Hart knew his own voice sounded like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, but he was dragging ass and quickly running out of steam. The thought of steak bagels put a little more pep in his steps as he headed down to the locker room, trying his best not to get stopped again.

Free

Free poured himself another cup of hot water for his tea. It was past two o’clock, he probably needed to chill on the caffeine, because he was already buzzing from head to toe. The moment he’d seen those precinct doors open and Hart lead his team inside and through the bullpen, all ’tac’d up and weighted down with artillery, he hadn’t been able to settle down. The man looked too damn dangerous and fine at the same time. Free had always been attracted to large men. Men who could hold him down and control him. But since his father had betrayed his trust all those years ago, he had a hard time surrendering his body to someone who could potentially hurt him.

After being around Hart for a couple of months and hearing all the wonderful stories of his kindness and gentility, he was sure he wanted to explore the possibility of them at least being close friends. He’d made a decision that he was no longer pussyfooting around. He was asking Hart out for a brew.

“Afternoon.”

Free jumped so hard the three sugar packets he’d had in his hand flew into the air. The sound of that growly, bear-like voice had him gripping the edge of the counter. He chuckled at his reaction. Had he been that deep in thought that he’d made Hart materialize out of thin air? With his head still down, staring at the darkening liquid in his mug, he said, a little huskier than he wanted, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“So you noticed I was gone?”

Free smirked and turned around, ready to give the captain a witty comeback, but instead he almost swallowed his tongue. Hart was freshly shaved and showered. His SWAT office uniform hugging his muscular body in all the good places. He stood so tall, and that was saying something, since Free wasn’t short. Hart was the perfect height. His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights, so tempting for Free to touch. To smooth his palm over it. To bury his face in that long, bushy beard. It was a look that was made just for him.

Of course I noticed you were gone. Every day.

“I did.” Was all he could manage. He tried not to inhale Hart’s scent, but it was either smell his deliciousness or not breathe, and pass out.

“Your lieutenant said you were taking a late lunch.” Hart reached around him and went for a mug in the cabinet over his head. “Thought I’d swing by and say hello.”