Hours of online certification and refresher safety courses had left Nate feeling brainless and fuzzy. It was his own fault for continuing to click the “Remind me later” button until he had no more time and had piled up over forty hours of classes.

Klay kept him apprised on Gomez and Ferreira. Over a week and nothing had happened. Nate felt itchy. The dead body had been positively ID’d as Alejandro Rosales, the only connection they’d had between Texas and Washington. Nate was certain his death hadn’t been happy coincidence.

So was Klay, which was why he was leaving Gomez at the farm camp for now. Agent Ferreira had been sent to California, following a tip that Rosales had met with someone before heading north. They needed to find the source, whoever was “recruiting” the victims. Evidence pointed to someone in the Skagit area, but they didn’t have a name. Yet.

Leaning back in his chair, Nate tried again to get his back to pop. Klay poked his head around the side of Nate’s cubicle. “Go home. Go for a run. You are driving me up a wall with that chair squeaking every three minutes. Anything breaks, I will let you know right away.”

Nate wasn’t going to argue. The day was beautiful, perfect temperature in the mid 70s. He could go for a run, or a hike maybe. Take his fancy SUV out and test its abilities. Snatching his keys up and shoving his laptop and notes into his bag, Nate took off like the hounds of hell were behind him.

The problem was, being out of the office meant he had time to think. Lately he’d been thinking about Miguel Ramirez. Nate felt funny when he thought about him. A part of him he wasn’t familiar with had done a double take at first seeing Miguel… then seeing Miguel.

Nate wasn’t an idiot. Most of the time.

Admitting he was attracted to Miguel was one thing. Nate had found a few other men attractive, but he’d never deeply explored his sexuality. He shuddered at the memory of that one visit to a gay bar in college. Why would he after that? He’d never been exposed to, to quote his dad, the “alternative lifestyle” growing up, and had no idea how to act on his attraction.

It seemed enough that he’d spent his childhood trying to figure out how to please his family and his high-school years trying to sort out how he’d become an outcast. Sex was easy to go without. Diving into studies had been his distraction. In college he excelled in his courses, and the Feds had started trying to recruit him by the end of his freshman year. Realizing he could do something other than join the family firm had been freeing, a weight lifted from his soul.

Now, in Skagit, Nate had more down time than he’d had in fifteen years. He could do some exploring.

As he opened his car door, a rush of heat swooshed out. He’d made the mistake last summer of not checking the leather seats before he slid onto them. Never again. He swore he’d burned off a significant amount of skin from the back of his legs, as he had been wearing shorts at the time.

Getting in, he noticed the little plastic decal on his windshield. His car was due for an oil change. Why not see if he could get that taken care of? Sure… his subconscious chided. He waved it off and headed toward certain trouble.

Swanfeldt’s Auto came into view, and Nate almost turned around, because he was pretty much using an oil change as an excuse to see the enticing Miguel.

He knew the man was gay—or bi, maybe, because Nate remembered him dancing quite suggestively with a woman at the wedding before disappearing upstairs with a man. Not that he’d been watching closely; he just happened to notice.

Miguel was one of those people who lit up from the inside. Some wordy people would probably say he glowed or something. Nate couldn’t really put his finger on it, but whatever it was, whatever something Miguel carried around inside himself was something Nate wanted more of.

Even if he hadn’t been using his car as an excuse, there was no way Nate wouldn’t have reacted to Miguel’s sexy welcome. Nate wondered where Miguel’s green eyes came from. They were bright and deep and stood out against his tan skin and hair. He seemed to be fighting an ongoing losing battle with his hair—much like Nate, except Nate cropped his close to his head. He liked how Miguel’s was generally unruly, like the man himself.

And who in their right mind would call Nate handsome? Apparently a man whose flirt button perpetually went to eleven. Nate flushed, both from the attention, even if the only witnesses were Miguel’s fellow mechanics, who both were probably used to his behavior, and from his own reaction—which made him blush harder. Fair skin was a curse.

After a ridiculous conversation resulting in Nate agreeing to come back at the end of the day, he headed out of town, pointing his car east. If he was meeting Miguel later, he needed a way to distract himself over the course of the afternoon. Klay’d told him about a great trailhead a few miles from town that meandered along the Skagit River for a while before gaining some elevation and ending with a beautiful view of the entire valley.

 

The hike was incredible and just difficult enough to do exactly what it was supposed to: distract Nate from his internal confusion. When he arrived back at Swanfeldt’s he was sweaty and pleasantly tired, with a buzz from being outside for hours with the sun beating down and birds calling each other, ignoring the human walking by. Eagles and hawks had caught the air currents over his head, gliding effortlessly along them before circling and swooping down for their prey. He’d heard a woodpecker thumping against a tree trunk. It was too late in the season for huge fields of wildflowers, but as he’d drawn closer to the view point he’d seen patches of purple and red crawling up the mountainsides.

Miguel had his head under the hood of a late-model Ford SUV when Nate walked in. Nate didn’t immediately see either of the other two. Dom and Kevin, he remembered.

“Hey.” The radio wasn’t blaring, so his voice boomed louder than he expected into the quiet space.

Miguel stood up, banging the back of his head against the hood. “Ow, fuck.” He rubbed the back of his skull, grimacing. He grinned when he saw Nate. “You came back! Dom and Kevin were pretty certain I scared you off.”

“Why?” Nate asked before he thought better of it.

Miguel smirked. “Nah, then I really will scare you off. Pull your beast up, let’s look under the hood.” His green eyes sparkled with that something Nate couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Nate thought it was possible flirting came as naturally to Miguel as breathing for most humans. He also thought it possible he could burst into flames from innuendo alone. He went back out to his car and blasted the air conditioning for a moment to cool his face down.

“All right,” Miguel said once he took a look at the car. “This won’t take too long. Then you wanna grab something to eat later, take me up on my dinner offer? I’m starving.”

Nate looked down at his battered cargo shorts and sweaty T-shirt. “I need a shower first.”

“We can do that. There’s nothing like a nice cool shower after a hot day.”

Miguel needed a warning label. Nate imagined one glowing and flashing above his head: ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. Nate shook his head. Miguel was a force of nature, much like the river he had hiked along that afternoon. The river was deep and strong, and it was easy to be deceived by the rocks barely visible beneath the surface and think it was shallow. The uneven riverbed could easily knock a person off balance. If you fell in, the current would pull you under.

Nate could feel Miguel’s current tugging him closer, challenging him to resist, daring Nate to give in to… whatever sparked between the two of them.

At home, Miguel surprised him. After all the flirting and suggestive looks, Miguel said nothing. Made no comments about showering with a friend or anything else Nate could think of. Nate changed into clean shorts and a plain blue T-shirt alone in his bedroom while Miguel waited in the living room flipping through an outdoors magazine. He tugged on his slip-on Jack Purcells and he was ready. Ten minutes later they were on their way to get dinner.

Miguel had changed out of his coveralls at work. He was handsome in jeans and an olive-greenish button-down work shirt. Nate could see why people of both sexes were drawn to him. Whatever color the shirt was, it made his skin glow and complemented his eyes. He’d toned down his flirting so much since they’d left the shop that Nate almost asked if he had done something wrong.

In the spirit of not confusing himself further that this was anything but new friends getting dinner together, Nate suggested a local sports bar where they could watch baseball and have burgers. Except, when they arrived, it had been closed by the health department.

Miguel laughed. “I guess we dodged a bullet, and now I don’t have to pretend I know anything significant about the teams or the game.”

“You could’ve said something,” Nate grumbled, feeling slightly foolish for not asking if Miguel watched baseball.

“I would’ve had fun anyway.” He was still smiling, and Nate’s gaze was drawn to Miguel’s lips. Lips weren’t something he’d contemplated before, but Miguel’s were expressive, and his mouth was constantly moving, talking, smiling, grinning, smirking. Miguel caught his gaze, and Nate felt his face heat with a rush.

“Where should we go?”

Miguel looked away from him, glancing up and down the street. There were a couple chain restaurants; most of this block was retail, and the shops were closed or closing. “We could head over to the Loft?”

Right. The Loft. Nate had been there, recently even. But never with someone he had complicated feelings about. Complicated. “The Loft sounds good.”

They managed to get a table on the bar side of the restaurant, away from the dance floor. It wasn’t very busy. Nate saw a colleague of sorts sitting at the bar. Luckily Weir hadn’t seen him. They weren’t close friends, and Nate had no idea what he would say to him.

When they first met, Weir had been on Klay’s team, but now he acted as a consultant. He was younger than Nate, even, and had been the team wonder boy until he took a job at the local university teaching statistics. Nate shuddered. Statistics.

“So,” Miguel said around a mouthful of burger, “what makes you tick? What brought Nate Richardson to Skagit?”

In a normal situation Nate hated talking about himself, but nothing was normal tonight. He felt that tug again—the magnetic pull of Miguel’s personality—and found himself telling his story.

“I jumped at the chance to move to the West Coast.” Nate speared a bite of his salad before continuing. “Adam Klay has a great reputation. I was floored when he and his boss tapped me for the team. I can’t tell you what for, but it’s something I feel strongly about.”

“No family? Girlfriend or boyfriend?” Miguel teased.

Nate gave him a deadpan look. “No. No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“When you say no, do you mean ever? Or just recently?”

And here Nate had thought he couldn’t blush hotter or redder. “A couple, girls. Women,” he muttered, using a huge bite of salad as an excuse to shut his mouth.

“And here you are in a gay bar. Maybe you should try a walk on the wild side? Not with me, of course.” Miguel leaned back in his chair and swept a hand down indicating himself. “I’m not for beginners. But….” He peered around the bar. It wasn’t full. Aside from Weir, there were only ten or twelve other people eating or having drinks. “Hmm. What about Cameron? He’s a cutie. Likes older men. I think he’s quit chasing Ira the asshole around.”

Nate couldn’t help himself; he glanced over to see who Miguel meant. And he was handsome, Nate supposed, in a hipster-ish way. Cameron was tall, easily taller than Nate, brown hair pulled back into a loose, messy bun at the back of his head. The jury in Nate’s head was still out on the man-bun debate, but he had to admit it looked nice on Cameron. But no. He shook his head. Took another bite of salad.

“Too young?” Miguel nodded as if he understood. “Sterling is taken, Ira’s an asshole, I don’t know those two guys but they look too young.”

“Really,” Nate mumbled, “I’m fine.” The two guys Miguel indicated did look too young. And together. Together as in were comfortable with their sexuality, knew what they wanted… weren’t a quivering mass of uncertainty and complication. How had they gotten to this subject? And why was Nate encouraging him?

“Okay.” Miguel seemed to take pity on him. “You don’t date. What do you do?”

Grateful for the change of subject, Nate tried to think of an answer that wasn’t work. “Work.” Because until he’d been sidelined recently, that was all he had done. He’d never had so much time to think.

“You know what happens to a man who is all work and no play?”

Nate raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“He’s boring. You aren’t boring, Nate Richardson, so you must do something other than work. Hmmm, bird watching? No. You do seem like the outdoorsy type, I know you run, and you went for a hike today. But those don’t count. What gets you up in the morning?”Miguel waggled his eyebrows—good lord, the man was incorrigible.

“Seriously, I’m boring.”

“Ah, but you’re not. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”

Nate couldn’t believe this ridiculous conversation was still going, and he was out of salad to stuff his mouth with. Miguel’s burger sat ignored on his plate while he dissected Nate’s life and personality.

“What about porn?”

“Excuse me?”

“Porn. You must watch porn?”

Nate could count the times he had watched porn on one hand. For one thing, he was a federal agent and somehow it felt wrong, even though he was aware there were a few “reputable” film companies. For another, it made him uncomfortable.

“Why are we talking about porn?”

Miguel narrowed his eyes at Nate as if he had just figured something out. Maybe he had.

“You haven’t, have you? Watched porn. Or, at least, man porn?”

Before Nate figured out what was happening or gathered his thoughts in protest, he allowed himself to be swept out of the Loft to his car.

“You have internet? We’ll go to your place, otherwise its Buck and Joey’s, and even I know when to draw the line.”

“I doubt that,” Nate muttered. But still he did as commanded, and soon enough he was parking under his carport.

They entered the house through the side door, which opened onto the kitchen. Nate’s kitchen was tiny, galley style, with a pass-through window to the dining space. He led Miguel into the living room.

“Nice place!” Miguel saw the sagging birthday balloons between the dining room and living room and laughed. “You still have those? Never mind, where’s your laptop?”

Wordlessly, Nate pointed to the silver laptop sitting on the wooden coffee table between his couches. The couches faced each other, one with a view of the backyard he’d had no time to work on, the other looking outward onto the street. His backyard was dominated by a huge locust tree, fifty feet tall at least, that filled the yard with red-orange and yellow leaves in the fall. He wondered why he hadn’t said “no” to this scheme. Then he wondered if Miguel would listen if he did.

“If I said ‘no’ right now, would that be okay?”

Miguel slammed the laptop lid shut.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I let myself get carried away. I apologize.” He stood from where he’d sat on Nate’s couch. “I’ll go.”

“No, no. I,” Nate tried to find the right words, “I just wanted to know if you would listen. Don’t go.” He reached out a shaking hand—god, he was so nervous—and reopened his laptop. “Keep going.”

Miguel looked at him carefully, all humor gone from his expression. Probably trying to assess Nate, figure him out. Well, good luck, Nate himself had been trying for years.

“Okay.” He flopped down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him for Nate to sit. Quickly he navigated to a website and entered his log-in information.

“I don’t watch a lot of porn unless I’m horny. And sometimes if I’m depressed, because it feels good to me to see other men enjoying their bodies. I don’t like it all. I’m not into BSDM, puppy play, shame, or pain, but I like a good threesome and daddy stuff. Not that I want my own daddy, but… a hot older guy can really get me going. I watch male-female porn too; it has a different dynamic, though.”

Nate had no idea what most of what Miguel said meant, but if it was too kinky for Miguel it was too kinky for him. Nate figured he was as vanilla as god made vanilla.

Miguel was watching him carefully, gauging his reaction. Nate felt like he had one chance to say the right thing. The river was beckoning, and Nate didn’t want to be left on the shore. He wanted… something. He was tired of standing on the edge; he wanted to be immersed, sucked under and swept along. He wouldn’t fight against it, he would accept it.

He steeled himself, trying to come up with something, anything, that would keep their momentum going… that wouldn’t lead to a big discussion where Nate would have to bare more of his already-shredded soul.

“Baby steps? I’m curious. A little nervous, for certain. Show me something.”

It was the right thing to say. Miguel scrolled down the website’s menu and selected something. “I have some DVDs too, my favorites. We can check those out another time. This one is fun because it’s supposed to be these guys’ first time. Maybe for some it really is. It’s pretty hot watching these boys get off.”

It was hot. Hotter than he could have imagined. Nate had never, ever considered watching men have sex. Never thought that the sight of an erection and the groans and whimpers as these actors got off, came, whatever, would turn him on. He still wasn’t convinced. It was possible that his own arousal (which surprised him) came from sitting next to Miguel, who was both commentating and trying to hide his own reaction.

Eventually, Miguel untucked his shirt and pulled it down over his lap. Nate was wearing cargo shorts, which gave him more room to grow, so to speak, and grow he did. Nate had never been one for masturbation. Sometimes, sure, he’d had erotic dreams and woken up wet, but that was about it.

Moaning sounds came from his tiny speakers. The current video featured a college-aged guy. He was sitting slumped against the back of a couch, legs spread wide. He’d started out wearing a shirt and shorts much like Nate’s, but the shirt had come off a few minutes ago. It was supposedly a straight guy watching porn. An older man sat next to him talking dirty and stroking his thigh.

Nate watched fascinated as the older guy—he was only half on the screen—asked, “Is this okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and unzipped the straight guy’s shorts. Nate licked his lips and felt his own erection throb. There was going to be a wet spot.

Straight guy was fully erect. He pulled himself out of his shorts. Older guy reached over again, tugged the shorts, and gently pulled his balls out. Straight spread his legs as far as he could with his shorts on, arching his back, and a pulse of precome dribbled from him. His assistant leaned over and licked it off. Nate had tasted himself once, as an experiment; his come had been bitter and a little salty.

A louder groan this time. Nate wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe Miguel quietly groaned along with the guy, who was now stroking himself and watching whatever was on his TV. At some point he’d stripped out of his shorts. The actor was what Nate thought of as a typical college guy with short-cropped hair and nice abs, pretty fit-looking. His body didn’t do much for Nate, but his reactions did.

As the actor’s hand started to move faster on his dick, the second guy leaned over and started to caress his balls. After a few minutes of that, and more moaning, he let his hand drift toward the actor’s anus, which was there for god and everybody to see because he had slid so far down on the couch and had his legs spread and his ass poking out as far as he could, begging to be touched, caressed, begging for everything. Anything.

The actor came, come shooting across his hand and over his slightly hairy chest. Nate felt himself pulse again… yeah, there was a wet spot. He looked over at Miguel, who was looking weirdly wrecked, but Nate couldn’t see that anything had happened.

“You okay?” Miguel asked.

“Except for having a hard-on the size of Kansas, yeah.” He pushed against his shorts to try to make it go down. Once Miguel left, he’d probably have to take care of himself.

Miguel looked at him, looked at Nate’s lap, licked his lips. Then looked away. Nate wondered what was wrong with him that not even someone like Miguel, who seemed like he’d have sex with anyone, couldn’t be attracted, or aroused anyway, by Nate. That was an erection killer for sure.

“You want me to help out? I’ll suck you off.”

His erection returned, and Nate felt lightheaded. He must have made a sound, squeaked or something embarrassing like that, because Miguel didn’t hesitate. Like the man in the porno, he leaned over, popped the button on Nate’s shorts, and then unzipped. Nate needed to remind himself to breathe, but he felt like the world was happening in slow motion.

“Scoot around and lay on your back.” Nothing would’ve stopped Nate from obeying.

Mimicking the movie, Miguel pulled off Nate’s shorts and boxers together, leaving him in only his T-shirt. Deciding last-second modesty was ridiculous at this point, Nate pulled it over his head and tossed it on the floor.

“Wow, you are beautiful,” Miguel whispered. He traced along Nate’s chest, circling each nipple before heading toward his rock-hard erection. “Put one leg on the floor.”

The next thing he knew was the wet heat of Miguel’s mouth. Nate also knew he was going to come embarrassingly quickly. It felt too good; he was wound up from watching the college boy and the daddy. His hips moved up and down; he tried not to force himself into Miguel’s luscious mouth, but he wanted more. He wanted it all. It felt so good.

“I’m gonna, not gonna…”

Miguel let Nate slip out of his mouth and licked him delicately. “Come in my mouth. I like it.”

Oh god.

“Oh god.” Miguel’s mouth was back on him, sucking gently before sticking his tongue into his sensitive slit. Nate came, a lot like the kid in the video. Except Miguel swallowed it all, even as Nate came again, or more, or whatever. Miguel sucked him until he was too sensitive to stand it anymore.

Nate didn’t know what to say. That had been incredible. He’d just had the most incredible, mind-blowing sexual experience of his life; did he say “Thanks”? He let his head fall back against the couch cushion. It was too hard to think.

“You really are beautiful.”

“I didn’t see you drinking when we were out,” Nate quipped. The porn made him do it, no doubt.

Nate lifted his head so he could see Miguel, who was frowning at him. The man looked as disheveled as he felt. His unruly dark hair was standing on end in spots. His skin was flushed, and his green eyes had deepened in color. Miguel was the beautiful one. He was on his knees, fully dressed, but Nate could see his erection straining against the front of his jeans.

Had he really been as turned on by the blow job as Nate? Nate struggled to sit up, grabbing Miguel by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. In for a penny; he wasn’t fooling anybody, he wanted this. Miguel tried to say something, but Nate just sucked on his tongue harder, reveling in the taste of himself on Miguel’s tongue.

Letting go for a second, Nate quickly unbuttoned the top few buttons on Miguel’s shirt, then pulled it off over his head. He was the beautiful one. No freckles marred his chest, just a smattering of hair and a dark path that directed Nate to his groin.

Nate pushed him down and clumsily removed his jeans, hoping he would be forgiven for rookie mistakes. He tossed the jeans aside, and then it was Nate’s turn to lean over Miguel. He tentatively stroked him. His cock was a little longer than Nate’s. Darker, too, although that wasn’t difficult.

Nate had never held another man’s penis in his hand, felt an erection other than his own. He reveled at how the smooth skin slid over hard steel. How the veins bulged. How Miguel moaned a whiny protest and thrust his hips up, asking for more.

Nate smiled. It felt wicked on his face. “I have a much steeper learning curve than you; be patient.”

Miguel whimpered. Nate smiled harder.

“Anything I should know?” He meant tips, aside from the obvious: no teeth.

“I’m negative. Get checked every three months.” Miguel breathed out as Nate ran his fingers up and back down the underside of him.

“That’s not what I meant, but I am too.”

“Oh…” Nate was sure Miguel had more to say, but his eyes rolled back in his head when Nate licked the underside of his dick and then sucked it into his mouth. Nate kept his eyes on Miguel’s face as much as he could. From the moaning and gasping, he thought he was doing okay. He let saliva gather in his mouth so he could slide up and down better. The sounds Miguel was making, the way he grabbed at Nate’s head as if he wanted to hold on but was afraid… Nate felt himself getting aroused again.

He sucked harder, wanting to give Miguel what he had been given. He lifted his body so he could get a hand under himself and try to rub and suck at the same time. He couldn’t figure out how to make it work; he almost fell off the couch.

“Come here.” Miguel patted his own chest. He lay his body over Miguel’s, luxuriating in the way their bodies fit together; how Miguel’s skin felt against his own, warm and soft. He kissed him again, because he wanted to. Miguel nudged him to the side, reached between the two of them, and took both their erections in his hand.

It was hot and messy. The smell of come pervaded his senses. Nate was boneless. Two orgasms in under thirty minutes and he could barely string a thought together. Nate did know that he didn’t want to move. That lying on his come-stained couch with his head on Miguel’s chest, listening to the thump of his heart, was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep. It had probably only been a few minutes.

“Um, are you okay?” Miguel asked when Nate blinked back to consciousness.

“My butt is cold. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“You’re not freaking out?”

“No. Are you?” Nate liked the way Miguel’s chest rumbled under his cheek when he spoke.

“Maybe? Kind of. For one thing, I just vowed to stay away from sex until I sorted myself out. And the person, you, who I did it with has never had sex with a man before. So yes, I am freaking out.”

“I should be the one doing that.”

“Yes, but you aren’t, so I guess I’m picking up the slack.”

Nate laughed. “What we did was good, right? I was nervous at first, but it felt right. In fact, it was amazing.”

“Oh.”

A horrible thought crossed his mind. “Was it okay for you? Even though you broke your vow?”

“Nate. You have no idea how good it was. Is it okay if we lay here for a while? I’m going to confess that I, um, really like my skin time. Sometimes it’s better than sex.”

Better than sex? “Skin time?”

“Yeah—this.” Miguel twisted around, and Nate ended up on his back with Miguel’s entire self pressed against him. Miguel then wrapped a leg around Nate’s so there was no space between them and lay his head on Nate’s chest. Nate felt his chest pressing up against Miguel’s cheek as he breathed. Their body hair tangling slightly as they adjusted, the warmth of their skin mingling, the scent of them together… oh, yeah, Nate could get used to skin time.