1 Chapter 1

1

Malcolm Rowland pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where he was to meet his boyfriend, Jordan Castillo, for lunch. In the passenger seat next to him sat his best friend since forever, Dustin Jones.

At the moment, as Malcolm searched for a parking space not a billion miles from their destination, Dusty pretended to play the drums to the loud pounding rock music blaring from the radio.

“Yo, how about that one?” Dusty pointed, pausing only briefly in his performance.

Malcolm sped down the aisle, making sure to reach the precious space before some old lady snagged it whowas taking her dog to be groomed at the groomer’s shop next store. He pulled in with a squeal of his tires and shut off the engine.

“Easy, dude, we’re not late or anything.” Dusty unsnapped his seat belt, opened the door, and unfurled his six foot something-or-other body out of Malcolm’s Mini Cooper.

Malcolm often thought the two of them looked ridiculous together. They’d been friends since they’d met in junior high school, and when Dustin had sprung up like a giant, well, Malcolm hadn’t. Malcolm was five-foot-five and maybe a half-inch. He always added that half-inch anyway.

“Jordan’s car is already here.”

Malcolm glanced at his watch. Despite what Dusty had said, they were ten minutes late. Which for them, probably, wasn’t late. Jordan would feel differently.

He rose up on the seat a little to check himself out in the rearview mirror, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Come on, you’re gorgeous,” Dusty said, leaning into the car to peer at him.

Malcolm rolled his eyes and got out. He clicked the locks and hurried to follow the much quicker pace of his long-legged friend.

Besides being tall, Dustin was built pretty thin with just a hint of defined muscle. He had soft-looking curly strawberry-blond hair, baby blue eyes, and what women would call peaches-and-cream skin. He had sort of a pretty-boy look with a touch of country added in, laid back and good-natured. If you didn’t know him you’d think that was exactly what he was, but Malcolm knew he was much more of a badass than most people thought. Once or twice when they’d been confronted by some homophobes coming out of a bar or whatever, Dustin made short work of the punks.

Malcolm searched in the front pocket of his pants for the rubber band he’d slipped in there earlier. Hepulled it out and wrapped it around his own mid-back length brown hair. They dashed through the double doors of the restaurant held open by a worker.

The restaurant, like most places in December, was heavily decked out with Christmas decorations. Green and red tinsel and garland abounded. Not too far from where the hostess stood waiting to seat guests hung a sprig of mistletoe.

A quick glance told him Jordan wasn’t waiting in the lobby area. He looked to the right. Dustin touchedhis arm.

“Over there.”

Malcolm glanced to the left and saw Jordan sitting at a table for four holding his phone. Seated next to him was his partner, Frank. Malcolm forgot his last name. Jordan only ever called him Frank. The two of them were homicide detectives.

They headed for the table and he sat on Jordan’s other side.

Jordan, who appeared to be typing an email message, looked up. “You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Only a little late,” Dusty spoke up.

“Late is late.” Jordan hit a button on his phone and then set it down. “Hello, Dustin. You remember meeting Frank? From the last time we had lunch?”

Dustin, who could turn almost painfully shy around strangers, turned a light shade of pink and ducked his head in the menu. “Sure. Hi.”

Frank, a good looking Asian man, smiled. “Hello. Hi, Malcolm.”

He opened his mouth to greet Frank.

“We already ordered,” Jordan announced, interrupting Malcolm. He folded his muscular arms across hischest, glowering at Malcolm. Jordan was twelve years older than Malcolm’s twenty-five. And for Malcolm it was his first serious relationship. Their year anniversary as a couple was only a week after Christmas. They’d become an official couple last year on New Year’s Eve.

Malcolm bit his lip. “You did?”

“Yeah, we have to get back to work, Malcolm.”

He looked away, his stomach twisting in embarrassment. He’d tried to make it on time, he really had. Heraised his menu, unable to look at the others at the table. He was tempted to say, “maybe we shouldn’t have come at all,” but Jordan was already pissed at him.

A big, warm hand covered his. “Hey.”

He lowered his menu and stared into the ebony colored eyes of his lover. They were one of his favorite features. Jordan, a classically handsome Latino, had dark brown hair just a little longer than his ears, whiskey-brown eyes, a straight aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and full kissable lips.