Slow Dating the Detective Read online

  His heated look was enough to make Keenan hot all over. He wanted nothing more than to take Nate somewhere quiet and dark, and…. Keenan stopped there. No point imagining what he couldn’t have tonight.

  “Well, see you around,” Keenan said when the silence stretched between them.

  “I hope so, Keenan Day. I really hope so.”

  Keenan did too, although they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers or addresses, so it seemed unlikely. He was about to ask for Nate’s number when his phone started again. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” he snapped into the phone and disconnected it without waiting for Sarah’s response.

  “Maybe another time,” Nate said over his shoulder as he walked away.

  From the tightness in Keenan’s pants, another time couldn’t come soon enough. But now he had a sister to deal with and more naked men to watch.

  “Silver linings, Keenan, silver linings.” Although the silver lining would have been ending the evening with Nate’s cock in his ass. He watched Nate walk out of sight. The man had a sexy roll of his hips that made Keenan get harder still. He’d happily watch Nate Gordon strip.

  Keenan huffed and turned back to the club. He needed more whiskey to get through the night. A lot more whiskey.

  Chapter 2

  KEENAN STARED moodily into the puddle of amber liquid in the bottom of the glass. Around him, people came and went. He ignored them as he sat at one end of the bar, and they ignored him. He’d been in the same spot for several hours since he’d received the devastating news that the construction firm he’d worked for since he left college was folding, another victim of the big firms whose buildings dominated the city skyline.

  “We’ve known for a long time we couldn’t compete,” old Mr. Johnson said, his voice shaking as he delivered the devastating news to the employees, many of whom he’d known for decades. “We sold the company to a subsidiary of C&A Holdings, hoping they would keep the business intact.” He sighed heavily, and the lines and grooves of his face seemed to deepen with every pronouncement. “They want our business but….”

  He trailed off, and one of the managers said, “Not us.”

  Johnson nodded sadly. “They’re going to put their own people in place.”

  Finally there was nothing more to say, and the men and small number of women shuffled from the room and went their separate ways, as though they had to absorb the blow alone. Numbly, Keenan collected his belongings from his locker and walked out of the only job he’d ever had.

  “Another?” the bartender asked.

  He was around midtwenties with tousled light brown hair and bright green eyes. Keenan knew him by sight enough to say a friendly hello, if not his name. Today he’d been good enough to recognize that Keenan wanted to be left alone and just filled his glass when Keenan asked.

  Keenan shook his head. “Not if I’m gonna get home.”

  He was drunk but not to the point of being stupid. He’d spent more time staring into the glass than drinking. He needed to go home, sleep off his sorrows and booze, and then tomorrow he’d start looking for a job.

  The bartender eyed him speculatively. “Don’t usually see you in here during the day.”

  Keenan really didn’t want to talk, but the guy was friendly, and he’d looked after Keenan all afternoon. “I just got laid off.”

  “That’s rough.” The bartender gave him a sympathetic smile. “What are you going to do?”

  “It’s the only job I’ve ever had.” Keenan leaned an elbow on the bar and propped his head on his chin. He was getting kind of fuzzy now. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he thought. “It’s going to be hard to look for another one.”

  “You were a security guard with Johnson’s?”

  Keenan was surprised. “Yeah, how do you know?”

  “I have a brother who worked there. I used to see you sometimes if I met him for lunch. He left last year. I’m good with faces.”

  “It was a good place to work.”

  “What are you gonna do? Look for another security job?”

  Keenan shrugged. “No idea. It’s not like I have a whole lot of experience doing anything else.”

  The bartender hummed. Then he picked up a paper napkin and wrote a name and phone number on it. He pushed it over to Keenan. “Cowboys and Angels are looking for bar staff. It might not be what you’re looking for, but Dan, the owner, is a good boss, and he’ll look after you.”

  Keenan wrinkled his brow. His brain was a bit fuzzy, but he was sure he’d heard of the place. “Cowboys and Angels. Is that the bar in Park Slope?”

  “Yeah. It’s got a bit of a reputation for hotheads, but now Dan’s in charge, it’s calmed down. Tell him Adam sent you.”

  To be polite, Keenan took the napkin and tucked it in his pocket. “Thanks.” He didn’t really want to be a bartender, but he couldn’t afford to be fussy. He still had bills to pay. The alternative was renting his place out and living with his parents, or worse, one of his sisters. He shuddered at the thought.

  “Refill?” Adam held up the whiskey bottle.

  Keenan shook his head. “I’m going home.”

  “Think about Cowboys and Angels. Even if it’s only for a few weeks.”

  “Why don’t you work there?”

  Adam shrugged. “I like it here. You know how it is. I like staying in one place.”

  Keenan did. He’d been very happy for many years. He settled the tab, said goodbye to the bartender, and made his way to the door. A little unsteady on his feet, Keenan lurched into the stream of traffic on the sidewalk.

  A man snarled at Keenan as he swayed into the guy’s path. “Hey. Watch it!”

  He muttered apologies, but the man snarled again and vanished into the crowd of people. Keenan sighed. He needed to go home.

  “Keenan.”

  Oh hell no. It was really not his day. Keenan plastered on a smile and turned to face his twin sister—older by five minutes and therefore in charge, according to her. They both had their father’s height, wavy chestnut hair, and deep brown eyes, with the high cheekbones of their mom. Karen was a detective in Homicide. She’d started in Narcotics and had transferred over to Homicide the previous year. Keenan was very proud of her, even if she did drive him nuts.

  “Karen.” If he kept it together, she might leave him alone. He forced a smile.

  Her partner in crime, Detective Ramon Hernandez, grinned at him. They were leaning against their car, both wearing dark, sharply cut power suits. Were they wearing matching shades?

  “Are you the Men in Black?” He hiccupped and clapped a hand over his mouth. He’d definitely lost track of the whiskey.

  His sister frowned at him. “Did you just come out of the bar?”

  Keenan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes, ma’am.” He did his best to stand up straight.

  Her frown deepened. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I got laid off this morning.”

  “What the hell? Why? Have you told Mom and Pops?” Before he had a chance to avoid her, Karen strode over and grabbed Keenan in a hug. She squeezed the breath out of him before he could move.

  “Not yet,” he gasped. “Breathe, gotta breathe.”

  She squeezed him one more time, stepped back, and wrinkled her nose. “You reek of liquor.”

  Karen always managed to make Keenan feel like a little kid. He resisted the urge to point out that he was over twenty-one. “Drowning my sorrows, I guess.”

  Ramon clapped him on the back, and Keenan staggered slightly. “Understandable, my friend. We’d have done the same. Do you need a ride home?”

  “In the back of a cop car?” he asked doubtfully.

  Karen rolled her eyes. “You’re not being arrested, and we’re on our way back to the precinct.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think I could do with the fresh air.” Keenan didn’t trust Karen not to drive to their parents’ house.

  “’Kay,” Ramon said. “We’ve got to get back for a meeting.”

  “M
eeting? Since when have you held meetings?”

  One of the things Karen had always liked about her squad was that they were left to get on with the work.

  “Since Gordon joined.”

  “Gordon?” Keenan asked.

  Ramon wrinkled his nose. “Our new member of the squad, Nate Gordon. Sanchez retired last month. Gordon’s from Wyoming. I like him. He’s a good cop, but he’s a stickler for meetings. Says it promotes good teamwork or some such shit.”

  Keenan frowned. He’d heard that name before, but he couldn’t think where. “A pain, huh?”

  “He’ll calm down,” Karen said unexpectedly. “He’s still new.”

  “Call Mom,” she said, stabbing a pink-tipped finger at his chest. “She’s only going to worry.”

  “She won’t know if no one tells her,” Keenan pointed out. Karen gave him that look—if Keenan didn’t tell his parents, she definitely would. He sighed inwardly. “I’ll call them tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, Day. We’ve gotta go,” Ramon said, an impatient edge to his tone.

  She stared at her brother in frustration. “Okay. Make sure you do.”

  “Scout’s honor,” he said.

  Ramon slipped into the passenger seat and winked at Keenan. He closed the door and Keenan grinned. At least someone had his back.

  As he walked home, Keenan’s thoughts veered between what he was going to say to the owner of Cowboys and Angels and what he was going to tell his mom. He wasn’t sure which conversation he was dreading most.

  THE NEXT morning Keenan woke with a fuzzy head, a mouth which something horrible had crawled into during the night, and no desire to move for a week. He stared up at the ceiling and watched Eric, the spider in residence, who was busy in one corner of the room. Keenan and Eric followed the first rule of roommates—they left each other alone.

  He checked the small clock on his nightstand—nearly nine. Not that he had to get up, but if he stayed in bed, it would get steadily harder for him to face the world. He sat up and rubbed his bristly jaw. Despite the trend for beards or stubble, Keenan preferred to be clean-shaven. He needed coffee and a shower and a shave. Then he might be able to face talking to his mom.

  As usual, Keenan switched on the radio for the news and shook the last of the coffee grounds into his machine. He was going to have to go shopping if he was going to spend more time at home. When he finally got a large strong mug of coffee, he picked up his phone, but it rang before he could connect. His mom’s number popped up, and he groaned loudly. Karen had gotten there first. He’d was going to kill her.

  “Keenan, do you need me to come over?” His mom sounded panicked.

  Keenan ran his hands through his hair. “I’m fine, Mom. You don’t need to come over.”

  “Baby, you were laid off. Of course you need me.”

  Keenan rolled his eyes. He loved his mom, but this was too much before caffeine. “It’s okay. Lots of people get laid off. I just need to find another job.” The last thing he wanted was for her to come over. She would pack his bags and drag him home by his ear if she got a hint he was freaking out.

  “You’ve never had to find a job before.”

  “I had to find the security job,” Keenan objected. He’d been very proud of himself taking the step toward independence after the hell of the previous year. Just searching for something he could do, calling up, and then going for the interview had been a big deal. He frowned as his mother hesitated. “Mom? You know I got that job by myself. Didn’t I?”

  There was a long pause and then she said reluctantly, “You know we go to the same church as the Johnsons.”

  “So that interview I went through was a farce? You and Dad got me the job?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “We just wanted you to be happy. You were so miserable after the incident.”

  Incident. What a neutral way to describe the event that had changed his whole life.

  “I liked working for the Johnsons.” Keenan put the mug down and stared out into the garden, the feeling of betrayal bitter in the back of his throat.

  “We know you did, and we were so pleased for you. They were just trying to be helpful at first, but you were good at it, and they wanted to keep you.” His mom’s voice was soft. “None of us believed you’d stay there that long, but you made a success of it.”

  “I did. I made a success of that job, and I’ll find another one, this time by myself. I’ve already gotten another interview,” he said.

  “You have?”

  He was offended by the surprise in her voice. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

  “That’s great, honey.” Gushing praise… that was even worse. “What are you going to do?”

  There was no way he was going to tell her anything. Knowing his mom, she was probably best friends with the owners of Cowboys and Angels. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve had the interview.”

  There was an expectant pause at the end of the line, and he knew she was waiting for him to cave in and tell her all about the job, which he knew nothing about, as he hadn’t made the call yet.

  “I’ve got to go, Mom. Love you. Love to Pops.”

  He hastily disconnected on her startled “But, Keenan—”

  Keenan would make it up to her later, with flowers and chocolates and a visit to the theater. He paused. Maybe the chocolates was going a bit far.

  Anyway, he needed to focus on the next call. Keenan downed the mug of coffee in four swift swallows and poured himself a fresh cup. Time to see if he could get a job without his mother’s help. He knew he was going to smart about that for a long time. Why had they never told him?

  The previous night he’d left the napkin from the bartender on the kitchen counter. Keenan took a deep breath and pressed in the numbers.

  “For heaven’s sake, Gideon, I’m not going to fuck you now. I’m busy.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded exasperated.

  Keenan gaped, swallowed, and found his voice. “Uh… is that Dan?”

  The silence went on for a long time. “Fuck… you’re not Gideon.”

  “No, I’m definitely not Gideon.”

  “Oh hell, I’m sorry. I thought you were my husband calling again.”

  “For a booty call?” Keenan smirked.

  “Yeah. He’s like that. Anyway, who are you and what do you want?” It was obvious Dan was trying to reclaim his dignity.

  “Hi… uh, my name’s Keenan Day. I understand you’re looking for staff.”

  There was the sudden sound of a loud machine at the end of the line. It sounded like Dan was standing next to a jet engine.

  “Yeah, I am. Keiron, you said?”

  “Keenan. K-e-e-n-a-n,” he spelled it out.

  “Oh right. Just wait. I’ll go somewhere quiet,” Dan said.

  Keenan waited, and suddenly the noise disappeared as though someone had shut the door.

  “Right. Keenan. You’re looking for work? How did you get my cell number?”

  “Yeah. I got laid off yesterday. Adam from Kelly’s told me about you. I don’t know his last name. He gave me your number.”

  “Adam?” Dan suddenly sounded enthusiastic. “You know him?”

  “Yes.” Keenan didn’t want to say he’d known Adam for the space of one whiskey-fueled afternoon and a five-minute conversation. He could admit that at the interview, if he got one.

  “What experience do you have?” Dan asked.

  Keenan closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to lie. It would be obvious the minute he stepped behind the bar. “None,” he admitted. “I’ve had one job, and that was as security for a construction firm.”

  “Fair enough.” Dan didn’t seem fazed or put off by Keenan’s admission. “Thanks for being honest.” There was a long pause, and Keenan could hear the rustling of papers. “Deliveries all this morning. Hmmm, two o’clock?”

  “For an interview? Yeah, sure.”

  “I’d like to do a trial session too. The bar is bus
y, and the guys are… well, you worked in construction. You know what the guys are like.”

  Keenan grinned. Don’t be expecting rich, flashy guys in suits. That’s what Dan wasn’t saying. “I do. I’ll see you at 2:00 p.m.”

  “Great. Bring your résumé with you.”

  Dan disconnected the call without saying goodbye, and Keenan stared down at his cooling mug of coffee. He’d gotten an interview. Now he just had to get the job. He’d still look for other work, but one step at a time. First he needed to type up a résumé. No. First he needed to buy ink for his printer. Where was his printer? Had he even unpacked it since he moved in?

  Keenan shook the empty bag of coffee and peered in, hoping it had magically refilled in the space of five minutes. It was going to be a busy morning. He’d buy ink and create a résumé in his favorite coffee shop. Then if his mom did pop over, he was safely out of the way.

  Chapter 3

  THE FIST to the face was a shock. Not expecting it, Keenan didn’t have time to prepare, and he hit the ground hard and sprawled in the open doorway of Cowboys and Angels bar.

  He’d come for an interview, not to be knocked off his feet. He tried to yell “What the hell?” but with the pain from the air being knocked out of him and blood trickling out of his nose, all he could do was flap his mouth.

  “Hell, man, are you okay?” A huge man with gray-green eyes and tousled dark curls leaned over Keenan and hauled him to his feet before he was ready, almost lifting him off the ground. Jeez, the guy was strong. Keenan stumbled, and the giant steadied him until his leg muscles were working. The man handed him a clean white cotton handkerchief. “Your nose is bleeding.”

  Keenan held the handkerchief to his nose and winced at the pain. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up with black eyes. Blood dripped onto his white shirt. Great, now he probably had dirt on his back and blood on the front of his interview clothes.

  “You need to sit down, man, before you fall down.”

  Still shocked and winded by the blow to the face and subsequent fall, it was easier to let the man steer Keenan through the crowd of people to a booth at the back where he could collapse onto the new brown leather banquette and recover his composure. Keenan was damn sure he left his dignity at the doorway. He’d come for an interview, not to be beaten up on the doorstep.