“I’ll take the first watch,” Michaels said, pulling one of the comfortable chairs up to the window. He turned and looked at Judge. “Besides, you must be ravaged… exhausted.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Judge frowned.
Michaels just barely suppressed his laugh. “From driving I mean.” He plopped down in the chair, loving the irritated grunt Judge threw his way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Judge pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed. So the little bastard thinks he one-uped me with his little erotic-nympho shower performance. I’ll show him, and soon. Judge couldn’t argue that he was tired. It was just before dusk and they hadn’t eaten any solid food since early that morning. He looked at the take-out menus next to the television. Chinese, Thai, pizza, Mexican. “What do you want to eat?”
“You going out to get something?” Michaels said, not even looking up from the book he was reading. He’d shed his boots and socks before he propped his feet up on the small dinette table. Even his feet actually looked hot.
Judge huffed. “No. I’m gonna order. You know what, never mind. You’ll eat what I order for you.” The slight chuckle Michaels gave him instead of bothering to even look in his direction pissed him off even more.
Judge decided on Chinese and ordered a bunch of different things. Michaels had to like something in that selection. The leftovers they could put in the fridge. Judge stretched out on the bed and turned on a football game that he wasn’t the least bit interested in. He stroked his beard as he fell deep into thought. Thoughts about a man who was taking up too much of his thoughts. He glanced over at him. Took in his strong physique, that coarse square jaw, and those eyes, eyes blue like the Montana sky. Michaels was reading, smiling at whatever was in those pages. His smile was charming, not a full-on teeth and gums smile, just a slight crook of his mouth. Judge was curious now. “What are you reading?”
Michaels looked up, startled out of the fictitious world he’d retreated into. “Nothing you’d know.”
Judge sat up straight. “You think I don’t fuckin’ read?” he grumbled.
“No,” Michaels said, slowly. “I think you don’t know what I’m reading, since it’s a cheesy romance novel. Damn, man. Why are you so defensive? I thought I was the high-strung one.”
Judge felt stupid. Why was he snapping at him? Because Michaels had reversed the game on him and fucked him good… that’s why. “You read romance novels… like Danielle Steele type shit?”
Michaels looked at him for a while before he finally answered. “Not that mainstream, but yeah, I read romance novels. I don’t want to read no fuckin’ mystery, action, or some dramatic crime story.” Michaels huffed an indignant laugh, tossing the book on the table. He steepled his hands together, despondently staring out the window. “I live those novels every day.”
But you don’t live romance. Michaels didn’t have to say that, it was implied and hung out there in the open like a bright neon sign. Judge watched him for a minute, not quite knowing what to say. So he didn’t say anything for a while. He absently watched the game and thought of what life would be like with a partner. Like his friend lived. God and Day shared every aspect of their lives, and they actually looked happy. Judge didn’t think he was built that way… not anymore.
“So what’s your partner like? Is he straight?” He figured it was a safe question to ask. God had quite a few gay detectives on his squad. He couldn’t imagine anyone working that closely with Michaels every day and not trying to get into his pants. He hadn’t been able to resist.
“I don’t have a partner. I’m a sniper. But if I have to do surveillance, I do it alone.”
He and Judge watched each other. Way more alike than either had thought. When Michaels narrowed his eyes and rose up in his chair, Judge jumped up and went over to the window. “What? What is it?”
“She’s getting something out of the car is all,” Michaels answered, the binoculars up to his eyes. “A grocery bag, maybe.”
Judge stood with his arms crossed, watching Michaels as he watched their target.
“Now she’s fawning over a dog.”
“A dog.”
“Yeah, someone walking by with a Golden Retriever. She’s petting it.”
“Does it look suspicious?”
“No.” Michaels put the binoculars down. “Looks like she likes dogs though. She’s headed back inside now.”
The knock on the door startled them both. Bookem sat up but didn’t bark; he was alert as he accompanied his master to the door. It was a lot of food. He put it all on the small countertop and rambled off an inventory of what he had ordered to Michaels.
“I’ll have the chicken teriyaki and the shrimp with broccoli.”