Jesse wiped his mouth, then shook his head, regretfully declining the extra plate. It may not have been his best decision because a few pieces of breaded chicken to go would sure come in handy around ten o’clock tonight, but for now he’d just be grateful with what he got. The small bakery was warm and inviting, the staff as sweet as the pies in the display case.
Jesse inhaled deeply, moisture welling up behind his closed lids, but he kept his emotions in check. The bakery smelled the way his mom’s kitchen used to on Sunday mornings, when she’d wake him up with hot chocolate and sticky buns before she went to church. Sometimes he’d go with her because she loved to show him off to her friends.
“Are you okay, Jesse?” Mason asked again in that goddamn voice that made Jesse’s rib cage clench painfully around his heart.
He’d always fantasized about having a good man in his life, someone who was kind and gentle but so very strong. The kind of man his mom told him he deserved and to never settle for less. Now that he’d met someone spectacular, Jesse was nothing more than a homeless drifter with a degree he couldn’t use because he had no address. He’d used the few bucks he had in his bank account last week when he rented a shabby hotel room on New Year’s Eve. He’d had to. It’d been madness on the streets, and Jesse was afraid to be out there alone. The shelter was overfull, and he’d needed the hot shower and a bed to sleep on. Not on an unforgiving wooden bench or with his back against the cutting bark of a spruce tree. Jesse blinked, trying to remember what day it was. The last time he’d slept felt like ages ago. Jesse realized that time moved differently on the streets. Much slower.
“I’m okay, Officer Mason.” Jesse sighed. “Just tired.”
“Please. Call me Ellis. I’m not on duty, and I’m not an interrogator when I am,” Mason offered.
Mason took a sip of his caramel latte, his light pink tongue peeking out to catch the foam that clung to his upper lip. Jesse quickly dropped his gaze from Mason’s mouth, not wanting to get caught gawking. All Mason had offered was a meal; now Jesse was staring at him as if the man could be his dessert. Because there was nothing in that bakery that smelled more appetizing than Mason.
“Okay then. Ellis.” Jesse narrowed his eyes. “Did you seriously want to just check on me like you said? No one sent you to talk to me… no other cops?” No other big, scary, intense detectives?
Mason put down his last baguette and pinned Jesse with a hard look that made him feel like submitting. Oh hell. Jesse squirmed in his seat as Mason leaned in, closing most of the distance between them, and Jesse found himself gravitating toward the center as well.
“This is the second time you’ve asked me that. The first time I answered it was ‘no.’ Now I’m saying it again… and hopefully for the last time. No one sent me. I came to you because I was think—”
Jesse almost stopped breathing when Mason cut himself off. Was he about to confess he’d been thinking about him? Mason glanced around nervously, then cleared his throat. He took another drink as if was gathering himself, and Jesse wondered if Mason was second-guessing being around him, especially since he looked so… raggedy.
“I was thinking of the way you came and helped me after I fell the other week, so, y’know.” Mason sighed. “I thought I’d buy you a meal and say thanks. With the way things have been going around here, someone would’ve kicked me and taken my wallet rather than helped me up.”
Jesse snarled. “That I believe. This city is insane. Why the hell is everyone so mean and the police so suspicious?”
“It’s the drugs,” Mason answered quickly, staring out the tall windows at the bustling neighborhood. “It’s taking over… again.”
Jesse was quiet for so long that Mason snapped his head back to him. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.”
“Jesse. I’m telling you the truth when I say that no other cops or anyone else sent me to talk to you. But… if you’re in trouble…” Mason leaned toward him as if he had an aura that could soothe if Jesse could just get close enough. “I can help you.”
Jesse was already shaking his head. If Mason truly wasn’t involved, he was going to keep it that way. And he didn’t want Mason tracking down that God and his narcotics super detectives, ruffling their feathers and possibly getting himself in trouble.
“Why are you shaking your head? I know you really have no reason to trust me but—”
“It’s not that, Ellis.” Jesse stared into Mason’s rich brown eyes. “I just don’t want you involved. My friend got himself in this mess, and he’ll have to get himself out of it.”