His Hart's Command (Nothing Special 6)

“He did. You just didn’t notice. Then you fuckin’ swore me to secrecy so I couldn’t tell him to ask you out.” God smirked when Hart’s mouth dropped open. Detective Austin Michaels was God’s sniper. He was young and extremely attractive. Also, very spoken for. “This was all before Judge walked in and scooped him up, of course.”

“He’s not really my type, anyway.” Hart smiled, feeling a little better that a virile man as sexy as Michaels had taken notice of him. God better not be fucking with me.

God laughed loudly. “Oh. You got a type now, huh? Man. You tell a guy that he’s hot stuff and all of sudden he’s got a type.”

Hart was laughing and enjoying his friend so much he forgot to watch the door.

“Can’t believe you guys ate all the damn food!” Tech yelled.

Hart jerked his head up. He saw Tech shoving and pushing his way around the table, trying to find at least one abandoned wing or forgotten piece of sub. He made quite a sight in his sweater vest and red plaid bow tie as he wreaked havoc on fifteen men twice his size. Tech wasn’t one of God’s enforcers for nothing. He may’ve dressed like a geek, but he was the most dangerous, lethal geek to walk the streets of Atlanta. Tech sat between Ruxs and Green and demanded they order him some food.

Some of the team had the decency to act guilty, but most of them started bitching about Tech being so late. Where is he? Hart spun around, checking behind him and at the bar. He really didn’t come? Hart smoothed his hand over his head. His face heated, and his scalp warmed to an uncomfortable temperature. He couldn’t have felt any dumber if he’d tried. He’d asked out a man almost ten years his junior, and was actually surprised he’d been blown-off.

Hart stood and put on his best fake smile, although he knew God would see right through it, “I’m gonna head back to the station. Get a start on next week’s assignment.”

“Certainly not before you buy Free that drink you promised.” God didn’t bother glancing up from his next shot. “Be cool. He just came out the bathroom. Go snag him before he sits down.”

Hart’s feet were glued to where he stood. Free was walking through the bar, heading toward their team’s tables. People watched him, the same as Hart was. He wanted to hurry over to him, but he couldn’t stop staring. He looked amazing in those tight blue jeans. While Hart had been gone the last couple of weeks, Free had cut most of his hair off. It was shaved close on the sides, with trendy spikes sticking up in various directions on the top. Hart’s pulse began to beat at an unnatural rhythm, the farther Free moved in the opposite direction. He stopped suddenly, his dark eyes scanning the table. He hadn’t sat down.

“Well look at that. I think he’s looking for someone specific,” God said from beside him.

“Who?” he blurted stupidly, still gawking at Free’s ass.

“Ouch, shit.” Hart rubbed the back his head where God had just slapped the slow out of him.

“You idiot. He’s looking for you,” God growled. “Hurry up, call him over.”

Free was checking around the bar. Clearly searching for someone, but Hart didn’t want to dream that much. “He might be trying to find the bathroom.”

God yanked Hart’s arm. “Snap out of it, Jesus. He just came outta there. Call him.”

Free was accepting a chair that Tech pulled over for him.

“Freeman! Over here!” God yelled.

Hart wanted to thank his friend and elbow him in his ribs at the same time. Except, when Free spun in their direction and a wide grin spread across his gorgeous face, Hart forgot all about the elbowing part. “Okay, he’s coming over.”

Hart’s face started to heat and his palms felt annoyingly damp. “Shit. He’s bringing Tech too. Oh hell. All right. What…what should I tell him? Hurry up. What do I do?”

God didn’t laugh at him or make him feel like the moron he already felt like, instead he put a heavy palm on his back and leaned toward him. “Take him to the bar for a drink. Talk. Ask him a lot of questions about him. A man likes it when you listen to what he has to say and not take over the conversation bragging about your own shit.”

I can do that, I guess. I’m boring anyway. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey. What are you two doing over here by yourselves?” Tech asked, snatching God’s pool cue and scanning the arrangement of colored balls still on the table. “Up to no good?”

“Just talking,” God answered, cutting his eyes to Hart, trying to give him some kind of signal.

Hart blinked the fog from his brain. “Hey. I see ya’ll made it…I mean found the place…not found…you know where it is. I mean you guys made it.” Hart fought not to duck his head when he noticed everyone was riveted on his ridiculous stutter.