Being Fitz Read online

  I hopped out of my truck, grabbed the six-pack of beer, and tucked it under one arm before locking up. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you at my apartment again.” I turned and propped myself up against the truck, watching as he came to stand two feet away from me. God, he smelled good.

  He grinned. “This is the parking lot.”

  I thought about kicking him on the shin, just because, but I restrained myself, for once. “My part in the case is done, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “and the department appreciates your assistance.”

  “So, why are you here?”

  “I want to ask you out on a date.”

  * * * *

  I stared at Detective Simms like he was a new species of rodent. “Say what, now?”

  He smirked, which made me want to slap him. “A date? You’ve heard about such things, haven’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Heard about them, yes. Done them, not so much. It’s more a ‘get-off and go’ type of deal. The last guy I was with came around for a booty call on the regular. It was never more than that. It’s what I’ve come to expect.” Shut up.

  “Please. Hot guy like you? You probably have them lining the streets, practically coming in their pants to have a chance with you.” Was he high?

  That comment caused bitter laughter to burst out of me. “If sex was all I wanted, it wouldn’t be an issue. And for your information, detective, I was too busy taking care of my dad, which you know, and before that, going to school and teaching, which you also know, to even think about dating. What sane man wanted the kind of baggage I brought to the table? And anything else was simply because I needed release, or the other guy was desperate enough to ignore everything about me that everyone else despised.” Shit, I need to stop running my mouth.

  Simms looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you nuts? I wanted to jump so badly when we met, but it wouldn’t have been professional.”

  I scoffed even as I felt a glimmer of…something…at his confession, because he had to be lying. He had to. “Please. What is this, some kind of ‘let’s show our appreciation to the plain, dumpy guy who just stumbled across a body’? Is that what this is? Some way of assuaging your conscience or something? ‘Cause I’m not buying it.”

  Simms glared at me. “This pity party of yours is pathetic. You could have whatever you want, whomever you want. You’re letting the past rule your life.” And the pity that crossed his face made me feel shame—and anger. Who did he think he was, to judge me?

  I shoved him back with my free hand. “Whatever you think you know from your research about me, means shit. You know nothing about who I am, so fuck you for your presumption!” The fact that he could see to the heart of me, things I kept hidden, even from myself, it seemed, cut deep. “What I do, how I conduct my goddamn life is none of your business.” I was shouting now, and I couldn’t make myself stop. Screw you for…” And my voice broke. “Just…go away.”

  “Fitz,” I heard Simms say, but I ignored him and walked toward the building.

  I heard footsteps behind me. “Fitz, I’m sorry. Please, just stop.” He grabbed my wrist and I tugged, trying to get away. He wouldn’t let go.

  I was ashamed of the tears I could feel at the corner of my eyes. I didn’t want him—anyone—to see me like this. “Haven’t you done enough?” I asked, voice low and defeated.

  “I was wrong,” he replied, wiping away a tear that had escaped, anyway. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise. I see the man you are, and I just…Look, I really want to get to know you better, as badly as I’ve portrayed that.” Simms stepped back and let go of my wrist, watching me warily.

  I realized, then, that I’d been holding my breath. “You’re an ass,” I said, not really wanting to forgive him, but feeling myself thawing just the same.

  “I know.” I looked at him in the glare of the overhead lights in the parking lot. He seemed earnest and…contrite, which I had not expected.

  Not knowing what to say right then, I walked around him and entered the building, heading for the stairs. Simms stayed right behind me, his scent inescapable in the stairwell. Guess he wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  “So, are you gonna say ‘yes’ to a date?” He was back to his smart-assed self. God.

  “Not interested,” I replied, though the rest of me knew my response for a lie. A guy like Simms, as arrogant as he could be, was twenty times the man Jerry would ever be. I pushed open the door to the fifth floor and let go, hoping it would smack Simms in the face, just for my amusement. No such luck.

  “Yes, you are, though why you keep denying it, I don’t know,” Simms replied, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Has anyone ever said ‘no’ to you before?” I muttered as we turned the corner, just in time to see Henry and Jerry plastered to each other, as usual, against Henry’s door. My breath hitched, but I played it off, coughing as quietly as I could while hurrying to my door and unlocking it.

  I turned to tell Simms to “piss off” one last time and let me wallow in my own misery, when I noticed him studying the two men with a frown.

  “What?” I asked, and watched a scowl take over his face.

  “Which one of those guys hurt you?” he asked softly, and my heart began to pound. How did he know? And wasn’t that the last straw?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all I could say in reply before stepping inside, using one foot to keep Rapunzel from getting out, as was the norm, while attempting to shut the door in Simms’s face.

  Instead, he took the beer out of my hand and placed it on the floor before dragging me back out into the hallway, shutting the door on Rapunzel, and leaning in to kiss me like his life depended on it.

  Chapter 4

  The first touch of his lips to mine caused me to freeze for a moment, then my eyes closed as I melted, because his taste was smooth and laced with coffee and mints and so addictive. I forgot all about Jerry and Henry and my frustrating day, how much Simms infuriated me, how much I still missed my dad, and focused instead on the way our mouths melded, how the super-short hair on his scalp felt against my fingers, the rub of his facial hair on my skin making my nerves tingle. The way Simms’s hand gripped my hair, holding me in place, made me want to do anything he asked. Or ordered.

  It was heady to be with someone bigger than I was, who almost made me feel small by comparison. I could feel his cock grow, and mine responded, almost making me lose my breath. I thought I heard a gasp from somewhere, and barely remembered that there were at least two other people in the hallway. I forgot to care. Simms made me feel so…And then I lost all thought again as his other hand ran down my back to squeeze my ass, lifting one leg slightly to align our cocks perfectly.

  I groaned into Simms’s mouth and his smile made me bite his lips and suck hard on his tongue, causing his hips to stutter. When I was about to blow—what was I, thirteen?—I broke the kiss, and placed a hand on his chest to get a breather and calm down. Panting, I asked, “What the hell are you doing?” though there was no heat behind the demand.

  Before he could answer, Jerry, who was now standing next to us, along with a stunned Henry, said, “Hey, hot stuff. I guess that sweet ass isn’t missing my dick anymore, huh? That was seriously smokin’. You guys ever do foursomes?” What had I ever seen in this dude, really?

  Henry was trying to get him to shut up, but Simms answered before I could say anything out of sheer outrage. “Obviously, Fitz needed someone who would treat him right and not just like a hole where you could stick your cock anytime you wanted. That what turns you on, buddy? Treating a man like a used tissue just because he’s willing to do whatever you want? What are you, a goddamn dog in heat?”

  The anger and disgust in Simms’s tone surprised me. Jerry was shocked speechless, and Henry, apologizing profusely for his boyfriend, dragged Jerry back inside his apartment and shut the door.

  I turned to Simms, unsure of what to say. No one had ever stood up like that for me, e
xcept my dad when he was alive and I was bullied in my neighborhood for being the poor, overweight gay kid, even as I tried to hold my own. Randy was a good friend, but he couldn’t fully understand the horrors I had been through, though he was a good listener and firmly in my corner. To have Simms, of all people…It almost made me tear up. Again.

  Simms ran a hand over his head and grunted. “Sorry. People like that guy—users—piss me off. My stepdad Rocco was like him—I never knew my real dad since he died when I was fourteen months old. Mom gave my stepdad everything, and he screwed around on her, and eventually left us in the fucking dust. It took me a long time to forgive him—and my mom—and she never stopped loving him. I still don’t know why.”

  Shocked at what Simms said, or that he shared something so personal, it took me a moment to respond. “Why does anyone let themselves get walked on and treated like shit?” I said, the pain in Simms’s voice making me want to hug him in comfort, which surprised me.

  “You’re better than that, Fitz.” He cupped my cheek. “I’m an asshole, and pushy, and abrasive. I’m sorry about my behavior toward you when we met, and just now, but in the spirit of full disclosure, be aware that it might happen again. Just punch me like you did last time and it’s all good.” I glared at him, and he laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the shit my buddies at the station have been giving me about that.”

  “You deserved it,” I said, unable to stop myself from reaching up to cover the hand on my face.

  “I usually do,” he grinned. “Look, I know what I want, and that’s to take you out some time, if you’ll let me. I think you’re sexy as hell, and I don’t care that you have a little extra around the middle. Gives me more to hold onto when my dick is stroking your ass.”

  I gasped. “You didn’t just say that!” I wasn’t blushing. I wasn’t charmed, either.

  “I’m sure your hearing is working perfectly. Seriously, though, I want to get to know you better. Give me a chance, please?” My head resisted, but my heart…Well.

  I swallowed and nodded, come what may. “This weekend? Sunday? I guess it depends on your schedule, too, huh.”

  He shrugged. “I might get a call if a body turns up. Hazard of the job. Sunday would be great, though. Pick you up at five in the afternoon?”

  I smiled shyly. “Okay. Anything specific I should wear?”

  “Nothing would be great, but as an officer of the law, I shouldn’t support indecent exposure.” He winked and I nudged him with an elbow. “Dressy casual. How’s that?”

  “I can do that.” He kissed me once more, a lingering, sweet affair that had me wishing for more when it ended. “I’ll see you then.”

  I nodded and watched him walk away, unsure of what had just happened, but looking forward to more, anyway. I was so screwed.

  * * * *

  “Seriously? What do you mean, I have to work on Sunday?” I said on the phone in the middle of Saturday afternoon as I was doing the laundry. I was so angry I could snap something in two…preferably my boss’s neck. Rapunzel had retired to the bedroom when I started yelling. I’d been losing my temper a lot lately.

  “Two people up and quit yesterday and no one else is available to take the shifts on Sunday. Everybody’s busy, and Randy is working six hours, but I need you to cover the rest. You’ve done this before. Why is it a problem now?” Because I never had a hot date that I didn’t want to miss and was more important to me than keeping my fucking job. Which should have made me pause, but I was past caring, it seemed.

  “It’s always been a problem, Bob; I’ve just never complained about it before.” I ended the call. Cretin. I fumed for about five minutes before I called Simms.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to sound calm.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, sounding concerned. His voice was soothing, though I was still pissed.

  I sighed. “How did you know?”

  “I could practically feel the bad vibes coming through. What’s going on, baby?” I could get used to him calling me that.

  “I have to work fifteen hours tomorrow, starting at six in the morning.” Seriously, I hated my life right now.

  “What the fuck?” That he sounded indignant on my behalf made me want to kiss him through the phone.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about our date. Okay if we do it next Sunday?”

  “Sure. Hey, how about I bring over some barbecue and dessert tonight as soon as I’m done for the day. You have beer?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “Good. See you in a bit.” After he hung up, I decided I really couldn’t complain that he wanted to bring me food and spend some time with me. We might even cuddle on the couch, which prompted me to vacuum the cushions to get rid of insidious cat hair, remove squeaky balls and God knew what else.

  I finished the laundry, swept, dusted, cleaned up the kitchen, freshened the bathroom. The sheets on the bed were changed, to my kitty’s satisfaction, apparently, since she promptly plopped down and purred her way to sleep. I dug out the outfit I’d planned to wear tomorrow, and after showering, dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt and pressed jeans, then walked barefoot across the carpet to the kitchen to make some coffee.

  I was watching Luke Cage when I heard a knock on the door. I glanced at my cellphone and saw it was a little after six in the evening. I paused the show, and when I opened the door, Simms gave me a bone-melting smile and kissed me quick and hard before I stepped back to let him into the apartment.

  “Don’t you look good,” he murmured, using a foot to kick the door shut and his free arm to drag me close and suck on my Adam’s apple. I loved the way his short beard felt on my skin, and I believe I whimpered, but don’t tell anyone.

  “Thank you.” I took the bags he carried from him and led the way to the kitchen. “You’re not so bad yourself, as I’m sure you know.” I thought Simms could dress in a flour sack and still manage to look edible. All that muscle, everywhere, and tonight, it was on delicious display in a skin-tight, wine-red, long-sleeved spandex-style T-shirt, and snug leather pants. Everything was molded to his body from neck to ankles, and…were those biker boots? Have mercy.

  “I dressed to impress you, and I do believe it’s working, by that charming flush on your face and neck.”

  “I don’t like you,” I muttered, taking out plates and utensils to set the table while he took care of the contents of the bags, putting something in the fridge.

  “I beg to differ,” he replied as I opened the fridge and took out two bottles of beer. “You didn’t have to work today, I take it?”

  That just brought up our canceled date and ruined my mood. “No, so I suppose I should be thankful, but seriously? There was no one else to work tomorrow? Chaps my ass when they do that.”

  “Does this happen often?” Simms asked.

  I shrugged. “Often enough. I never have anything else going on, so I always say yes.”

  “Sounds like you’re letting them take advantage of you,” was his comment as we sat at the table.

  I knew he meant well, but…“You did warn me that you could be abrasive sometimes, but dude.”

  “What? I didn’t say it wouldn’t be the truth. I call it like I see it. Did you at least give them an earful?”

  I took a breath and let out my frustration. “Yeah. Still doesn’t make it fair.”

  Simms grunted in agreement. “I’ve learned that not everything in life is fair. All I can do is roll with it.”

  “Easier said than done,” I replied. We dug in. I practically moaned at the first bite. Damn, the food was good.

  “What happened to my mother and me growing up wasn’t fair,” Simms said after a while. “All of my relationships ended because of my job, which isn’t fair. My partners couldn’t handle that I wasn’t around on a regular basis, to give them enough attention, or whatever. Lynn—my most recent ex—constantly argued with me about what ‘normal’ meant as a couple, and just couldn’t get past that. My hours are crap and Lynn wanted more than what I could
give. And yeah, I understand the issue, but somewhere out there is someone who can live with it. And you know? I’m past forty. Life’s too short to worry about shit like that anymore. Either the person in my life can deal, or not.”

  I almost choked on my beer. “Past forty? No way are you older than me.”

  He grinned. “Yes, I’m forty-two to your thirty-five. Think I’m robbing the cradle, do you?”

  “Shut up,” I mumbled, willing myself not to turn red, and probably failing. “You just look—I didn’t realize—stop laughing at me,” I groused when he started cackling.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” Wiping the corners of his eyes as he calmed down, Simms said, “I can definitely handle you ogling me, though, if you don’t mind me doing some leering of my own.”

  It still mystified me, his interest. “You really don’t…” I didn’t finish, but Simms seemed to know what I wanted to say.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. If you feel you need to lose weight or whatever, do it because it’s necessary for your wellbeing, not because of public opinion. Your job is difficult, you work long hours, and you sit around a lot. Not great odds when it comes to maintaining a healthy weight, but if you want to do something about it, I’ll be glad to help. I used to weigh three hundred and fifty pounds myself.”

  I gasped. “No!”

  “Oh, yeah. About five years ago, I was having all kinds of back issues and my health was declining. The doctor and I had a ‘come to Jesus’ conversation, and I realized I had to do something before I developed heart problems or worse. It took some work, but I’m doing a lot better now. I have to keep at it, though, because it’s easy to become complacent.”

  “Well, whatever you’re doing, I heartily approve,” I said, laughing when Simms flexed his muscles and puffed out his chest.

  When the meal was done, we cleaned up, and then he took two slices of chocolate cake from the fridge and followed me into the living room as I carried the bottles of beer.