Page 22

22

MICHAEL

W hen did Thursday sneak up on me? I scramble around the kitchen, regretting my offer to cook for Patrick. Whenever I get stressed about making a meal for someone special, it always ends up burnt. Should I just order pizza?

Shaking my head, I decide against it. Pizza wouldn’t exactly impress him. Time to face reality. I swing open the refrigerator door and gasp.

“What the hell happened to all my food?” Oh, right. I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but then Joe, my partner, got a lead on the case we’ve been working on.

That case is slowly driving me insane. We’ve barely made any significant progress. Every lead we’ve chased so far has led to dead ends. It’s beyond frustrating. Joe even mentioned the words “cold case” the other day, alluding to the fact that we might get reassigned with we don’t start making progress. But I’m not ready to give up just yet. Yesterday’s lead still holds promise, at least for now. Another victim found in the area. Not at a country club, but not far enough away from Who’s Your Caddy to completely rule it out.

In fact, the DNA of the possible perp found on the latest victim, came back as male. Not surprising, but it’s a solid lead for once. The District Attorney managed to get warrants for DNA samples from all the employees at both country clubs. It shouldn’t take too long to test everyone and narrow down our suspect pool.

Closing the refrigerator door, I turn to the pantry. There are at least four boxes of pasta and some sauce. Lasagna it is. Glancing at the time and quickly calculating, I grab the pasta and sauce from the shelf. After making sure there’s ground beef in the freezer, I take that out too and get to work.

Before I know it, the house is filled with the heavenly aroma of cooking lasagna, bringing back memories of cooking with my mom when I was younger. We used to attempt recipes from her grandmother, doing our best to follow them. My ancestors would probably disapprove of using jarred sauce, but my mom always said adding a few seasonings and fresh basil made it homemade.

My mom’s the best.

Suddenly, I’m adding the final layer of mozzarella cheese to the top of the lasagna. The oven is preheated and, after checking the time again, I realize there’s just enough time to cook it before Patrick arrives.

My stomach flutters at the thought of him. His smile, the way he talks with his hands, how excited he gets over the little things—it all makes me fall even harder for him. I was so nervous last night about him coming over, I had trouble sleeping. Usually, I’d resort to my tried-and-true method of quickly relieving stress, but I wanted to save myself for tonight.

The phone rings, and I answer it straight away.

“Hey, Michael, it’s Dan.” He’s my neighbor next door. We’re not exactly friends, but we’re decent enough neighbors.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Your sprinklers have sprung a leak, man. My wife said your entire backyard is flooding.”

“Oh, shit!” I run to the back window and see two of the sprinkler heads spraying water six feet in the air. “Thanks, Dan. Gotta go.”

Without hesitation, I rush outside and search for the irrigation kill-switch. Where did the real estate agent say it was? I haven’t lived in the home long, and I haven’t had any trouble with the irrigation system until today. Ah, the east side of the house. That’s right, next to the switchbox.

I quickly locate the irrigation control, switch off the water, and hurry back to the tiny flood waiting for me in the yard. As I reach it, I slip and fall flat on my backside.

“Nice one,” Dan yells over the fence. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I wave him off. “Thank you. I think I’ll handle it myself.”

Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but laugh. My entire backside is drenched, soaked in muddy water and now stained by the grass. I stand and examine the broken sprinkler heads up close. How did this happen? If I’d run them over while mowing the lawn, I would have noticed days ago.

Picking up the broken sprinkler head, I notice jagged edge marks on the plastic. Someone intentionally damaged them. This wasn’t an accident. A sense of being watched sends shivers down my spine. Rubbing my finger along the edges, I start forming scenarios in my mind. Did Joe and I disturb the killer? Is he aware we’re getting closer? Or is this just a way to mess with me?

Shaking my head, I try to clear my mind but make a mental note to tell Joe about it tomorrow. For now, I need to clean up this mess and make sure the sprinklers aren’t further damaged below the surface. A water leak could be costly if left unchecked, not to mention the damage it could do to the landscaping.

After grabbing a shovel from the garage, I’m soon elbow-deep in mud. Fortunately, it seems like everything is fine, and the repairs should be relatively inexpensive.

Sitting in the wet grass, I start fiddling with the broken sprinkler heads, trying to determine the size and type so I can buy replacements.

“There you are,” Patrick says as he rounds the side yard into the back. “I’ve been ringing the doorbell, but no one answered.”

I jump up from the ground, dropping what I was working on. “Damn, so sorry.” Looking down at myself, I realize I must look like a mess.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks.

“Ugh, the sprinkler system sprung a leak.” I try to wipe my hands clean on my clothes, but there aren’t enough dry spots. “I’d give you a hug, but…”

“No worries.” He chuckles. “Not going to lie, you look good… all dirty and hardworking.”

I chuckle in return. “You’re too kind.”

“I brought wine,” he says, holding up a bottle of Merlot.

“That’s going to go great with the lasagna,” I start to say. “The lasagna. No.” Running past Patrick, I take the three steps to the back door in one leap. As I pull the door open, the smell of overdone pasta fills the air. “Not again.”

Yanking the oven door open, the kitchen fills with smoke and the alarm blares its judgmental signal. I toss the pan onto the stove, turn off the oven, and close the door. Using a dish towel from the counter, I wave it in front of the smoke detector until it finally stops.

Patrick steps over and peers down at the crispy pasta dish. “If you want my opinion, we can just scrape the top off and eat the rest? I can’t remember not having burnt food growing up. My mom hated to cook and said we either eat the burned pieces or go buy our own food.” He shrugs and pokes at the top layer. “Oh, this is still good. See that?”

Is he being nice, or is he serious? It’s been so long since I’ve been out with a decent person, it’s hard to tell what he really means. “I’m sorry about dinner. We can order pizza if you want?”

“No,” he says. “Seriously, it’s totally edible.” He steps closer to me, seductively touching my chest, running his fingers down the middle of my belly. I bite my bottom lip and arch my eyebrow. My jeans grow tight in the crotch as Patrick’s fingers linger on me. An unconscious rumble emanates from deep inside my chest. I want to pick him up and carry him into my bedroom. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t really all that hungry for lasagna.”

Patrick unbuttons one of my shirt buttons, then another. “I love this,” he says, touching my chest hair. “Go get cleaned up. If you show me where the dishes are, I’ll serve us up food and drink.”

I begin unbuttoning my shirt the rest of the way, pulling it off my shoulders as I step away from him. Dropping the shirt to the floor, I pause, looking back at Patrick and smile. After I round the corner, I stop and take off my jeans, tossing them down the hallway where Patrick will see them land. A few more feet and I leave my socks and underwear at the entrance to my room, like I'm leaving breadcrumbs for him to follow if he wants. Hoping he gets the hint and I didn’t make a mess for no reason, I hurry into the bathroom.

The shower heats up, and I shiver as my body quickly cools without the damp clothes. Perfect, hot like I like it. Stepping into the shower, I quickly begin scrubbing myself clean. I hope Patrick catches my drift and wants to join me, but if he doesn’t, I better hurry up and rejoin him in the kitchen.

Suddenly, the shower door opens and Patrick steps inside, completely naked. “Fancy meeting you in here,” he says, putting both hands on my chest. I smile and lean down, kissing him on the lips. “I was hoping you’d want to join me.”

He looks me up and down, his gaze stopping twice on my ever-hardening cock. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Patrick wraps his hand around my dick and begins working the shaft, cradling my heavy balls in his hand. I let my head fall backwards with a moan. I begin playing with my nipples, squeezing them between my fingers, with just a hint of pain. His hot breath on the head of my cock sends a shiver up my spine, and my body is instantly covered in goosebumps. When he takes my head into his mouth, I reach down and place both my hands on the back of his head, edging my cock deeper to the back of his throat.

His hand picks up speed as he licks the underbelly of my head. “Do you like that, Papi?” he asks. I nod and suck air between my teeth. His tongue works the tip and hole so perfectly, I’m already edging. I have to pull back, forcing him to let go. I’m not ready to come, not yet.

“Stand up,” I whisper. He stands, and we kiss, slowly at first, but then with such earnest need that my lips burn against Patrick’s stubble. Our tongues slide past each other, playing and teasing with each little turn and touch.

Patrick pulls away first, gasping for breath. The need in his eyes turns me on even more. The way he looks at me, as if I'm the only man he’s ever seen, ever needed, drives me wild. I kneel, allowing the hot water to flow over us, but this time, it's my turn to service him.

Patrick’s cock is hard, pulsing with pleasure. I take him into my hand and slowly work his shaft until I see pearly drops of pre-cum drip from its tip. Without wasting another beat, I take his cock into my mouth until his head hits the back of my throat and my nose presses against his lower belly. He moans as my tongue slides over his shaft, back and forth, teasing the soft sensitive tip of his head.

I work his cock, sucking, licking, and stroking. Reaching up, I cup his ass in my hand as his legs tremble. He's getting close to climaxing. I can feel the way his cock pulses in my mouth, thickening even further as he’s completely engorged, ready to come.

“I’m... getting... close,” he pants. “I…”

Pulling him from my mouth, I stroke his cock and look up into his eyes as he watches me. His legs tremble, his knees twitch as if they're ready to buckle. He leans his head back against the shower wall and moans.

Ribbons of hot cum squirt across my face as I continue to stroke him throughout the climax. A second blast lands in my hair, and he begins to laugh. “Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Fuck. Oh my god, Papi.” He opens his eyes and wipes my face clean as I continue to kneel before him.

He holds out his hand, and I take it to stand. We stand in the hot water as it washes over us, wrapped in each other’s arms. Without words, we hold each other tight. I feel my desire to be with him deepen. After an unknown amount of time, the water begins to cool, and I feel him shiver. He kisses my neck but doesn’t pull away. It's clear he doesn’t want this moment to end any more than I do.

I reach back and turn off the cool water and kiss the top of his head. “I’m not sure what to say,” I say honestly.

He shakes his head and squeezes me tight one last time before reaching for a towel. “There’s nothing to say.”

Were those tears in his eyes? I want to ask if he's okay, but I don’t know what to say. He reaches for my hand and kisses it. “You’re an amazing man.”

My heart melts. “I feel the same about you.”

He nods and steps out of the shower. I grab my towel and join him as we towel off and begin getting dressed. He finishes first and says, “How about some burnt lasagna?” He smiles, and I laugh.

“And wine.”

“Oh, there’s always time for wine.”

He walks out of the room and heads into the kitchen. He's probably going to plate the food and pour the wine while I finish getting ready. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm smiling, and no matter how I try to wipe it off my face, it won’t stay gone. I feel like I’m in college again, experiencing sex for the first time.

I might actually be falling in love.