Page 32 of The Map Home
Dakota stepped into Tad’s space. He almost moved backward, but at the last second, he held his ground. Still notanswering him, Dakota reached out to grip Tad’s chin. Then, slowly—in slow motion, rather—Dakota lowered his head and brushed his lips across Tad’s.
The contact was so fleeting that Tad could almost have convinced himself it hadn’t happened. But it had.
Dakota straightened to his full height, that damned complicated expression fading away. “Thanks for having my back,” he said before turning and striding away.
Tad’s heart was pounding as if he’d run a race, or at least a couple of long blocks. Had that happened? For real? He lifted his hand, touching his lips as if he could physically feel the kiss Dakota had given him underneath his fingertips. Dakota Green had kissed him.
There was hope. Dakota had given him hope that he, Tad Gillespie, meant something more than trusty sidekick. Right? Unfortunately, the logical side of his brain, which Tad was usually happy to ignore, poked at him. It was probably nothing. Just a kiss. A thank you for telling Boone to fuck off.
Okay. But what guy kissed another guy as a thank you?
None, that’s what. Therefore, there was hope, so fuck off, logical brain. Even if it had just been a brief kiss, it was a kiss.
Blinking and shaking his head, Tad forced himself to return to earth. Dakota was long gone. The sidewalks were getting more crowded, with early shoppers who carried bags bulging with what Tad assumed were gifts, along with long rolls of brightly colored wrapping paper. The holiday music suddenly seemed louder, and at the other end of the square, the tree lights had been turned on even though it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
Yes. Tad now had hope that he wasn’t truly in the Friend Zone. But he also had a job to do for Curtis Lewis. Peter Kline wasn’t going to get away with bulldozing the valley, and someone had to find the missing toys. Or at least find the thief.
Another little voice, the irritatingly logical one again, pointed out that maybe he should leave the toy theft to the Sheriff’s Office. Crime was their specialty, after all. But as Dakota had said, they were perennially short-staffed, so it wouldn’t hurt for Tad to poke around on that mystery too.
Handing the solved case to Dakota all wrapped up would be Tad’s gift to him this year.
Could be.
Movement ahead of him caught Tad’s attention. Squinting into the shadows, he spotted Honey Sweeting coming from the direction of city hall. On a Sunday? Something about her demeanor had Tad thinking the gossip columnist was up to no good. He usually did his best to stay off her radar, but maybe he could head her off and slip in a question or two about Peter Kline. He seemed like the kind of person she would know about. Before he could call out, though, she disappeared around another corner.
ELEVEN
Dakota
Marcy Auchler still hadn’t shown up, and the Sheriff’s Office was still divided on whether she was missing or had left town voluntarily. For the time being, they were just keeping their eyes out. There also was no line on Penny Gillespie’s teddy bears.
Worse, Dakota’d lost his mind and kissed Tad. He should be focused on the cases and going over his notes, but instead his thoughts were stuck on the Tad Channel.
What the fuck had he been thinking?
That exact phrase had been rolling around in Dakota’s head all day long. Ever since he’d given into the urge to press his lips against Tad’s.
What the fuck had he been thinking?
He’d been thinking that Tad was courageous, determined to protect Dakota from Boone and, Dakota also knew, anyone else who harbored the same notions he did. Dakota had intended to tell Tad that Boone wasn’t the only jerk in town. And that it was no big deal, he could handle stupid people.
But instead he’d kissed him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was one thing to have a sex dream; that could be dismissed as his imagination and general lack of an active sex life. Imagining himself kissing Tad and actually allowing himself to follow through with the action were worlds apart. It wasn’t the guy part. He’d fooled around with both men and women, but physical stuff had never been particularly mind-blowing, and he’d never pursued more with those people.
Before now. And Tad Gillespie.
Jamming his apartment key into the lock, he turned it, ignoring the flutter of paper at chest level—he’d deal with whatever that was later. The quiet and peace of his apartment was what he needed now.
The door swung open, and Dakota stepped across the threshold. He stopped for a second to take a deep, and only sort of, relaxing breath. Releasing it, he started to shrug his coat off but pulled it back on when he registered that it wasn’t any warmer inside than outside.
Maybe that note taped to the door was important after all.
Stepping back out to the hallway, Dakota skimmed through the note and sighed. The universe was clearly working against him. Pulling out his phone, he called the number he knew best.
Tad’s dooropened at the first knock. He’d probably heard Dakota’s footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Come on in,” Tad said brightly. “My place is your place and all that stuff.”
