Page 26 of The Map Home
“What?” Tad demanded.
Whatever thesomethingwas in Kota’s expression was, it had Tad squirming on the inside. He wanted to kiss him or strangle him; the jury was out. Dakota Green’s signals were so damn scrambled that Tad thought they should be represented by that painter who splattered colors on his canvases.
“Jackson Pollock,” he blurted.
“Jackson Pollock? Seriously, are you okay? Was there something funny in that pizza?”
Dakota crouched down in front of him now, looking concerned. Great, he probably thought Tad had a brain tumor or some other scary health problem.
Blowing out a breath of air, Tad said, “I think my place needs a Christmas tree. Will you come with me to pick one out? Or, I guess, just come over and decorate it? Er, Mom gave me a box of ornaments,” he finished lamely. Now he had his arms crossed over his chest as if to protect himself from Dakota’s inevitable, “No.” Picking out a Christmas tree was definitely a couple-y thing to do.
The long, thoughtful gaze Tad was subjected to had him shifting so he could get up off the couch. “It’s no big deal,” he said, not meaning one word. “I don’t really need a tree.” Tad’s movement caused him to sort of pitch forward so that his face and Dakota’s face were abruptly very close.
The moment was fleeting and forever. Dakota seemed to sway closer to Tad, bringing their lips near enough that Tad felt Dakota’s warm breath. And probably Dakota could feel his. Now he was afraid to move and afraid to speak.
Please, just kiss me.
An expression Tad couldn’t put a label on crossed Dakota’s face but disappeared before he could parse it out. Mildly irritated now, he tamped the feeling down. He was getting tired of guessing at Dakota’s thoughts.
“Sure,” Dakota said. He pulled away and rose to his feet, again not meeting Tad’s eyes. “I could do that. Getting a tree sounds fun. I’m working a lot this week, but I can shoot you my schedule.”
Dakota picked up his jacket and keys from where he’d stashed them by the front door when they’d come inside. “Or you can just call the station and ask Gloria,” he added with a smirk.
“Ha, ha.” Tad got to his feet too. “I’m working at Jake’s the next three nights and one lunch shift, but other than that—and unless Curtis has something more for me to work on than water rights—I have time Wednesday or Thursday.”
Dakota started to open the door. “Wednesday?”
“Be there or be square.”
NINE
Dakota
On the sidewalk outside Tad’s building, Dakota had to stop and lean against the brick facade for a minute to regulate his breathing.
“Just breathe, in and out,” he reminded his brain.
He’d fucking almost kissed Tad. What thefuckhad he been thinking? Where had his self-control disappeared to? Tad Gillespie, all wide-eyed and hardly moving, watching Dakota like he was the hawk and Tad was the prey.And he’d liked it.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath in through his nose, he stepped away from the building and headed for his truck. He also tried to shove aside his mental image of Tad and that wide open and vulnerable expression. His ridiculous mustache came to mind. That thing was never going to grow in, regardless of what Curtis claimed. Instead of making Tad look older, it somehow achieved the opposite, making him seem even more vulnerable.
Making Dakota want to keep him safe.
Thank fuck he’d stopped himself before he’d done anything fucking stupid, like ruin his friendship with the best person he knew.
Pep talk finished, Dakota shook himself like a wet dog, unlocked his truck, and got behind the wheel to drive the three short blocks back to his place. Tad wasn’t wrong—it was dumb to have two apartments when they could have one together. They hung out at least every other day. Since meeting Tad when Dakota was fourteen and his mom had taken the job as a cook at G-Bar, the longest amount of time they hadn’t seen each other was when Tad had gone to Bozeman for college. And even then they’d still talked almost every day.
Unlike Tad’s cozy apartment, Dakota’s was chilly and felt barren. Probably, he thought grimly, that was because he hardly had anything on the walls—just a first responders and kittens calendar that Tad had given him last year as a joke. The guys were hot though. His single bookshelf was stacked mostly with textbooks from the criminal justice classes he’d taken.
He didn’t have many photographs, just the one that Mat Dempsey’s mom, Alyson, had given him and a few from Tad and Penny, mostly just of Tad and Dakota doing stuff. One was of Dakota saddled up on a big bay with Tad on his white and tan mustang right next to him, the two of them tossing their caps in the air on the night of high school graduation. Sure, most people just kept pictures on their phones, but not Penny Gillespie. She printed them out and then gave them away like party favors.
But none of the framed pictures scattered around the room were of his life before G-Bar. Ana had either left those ones behind or destroyed them. Dakota remembered having school pictures taken, but he’d never seen them. With people taking selfies these days, even if his mom had had photos, they’d been lost with her phone.
Sighing, he slung his coat over the arm of his couch, toed his boots off, and padded into the closet-slash-bedroom. After getting undressed and leaving his clothes hanging up haphazardly, he slid under the covers. As tired as Dakota was, he thought he’d fall asleep quickly, but instead he ended up staring at the ceiling for far too long.
Sunday morning,the station got a call from the mayor. All the teddy bears donated to the Kids-In-Need program had been stolen.
“Every last one of them is gone,” Sheriff Morgan fumed. “What is the world coming to?”
