Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(19)

Mevi looked up, confused. “Huh?”

“Food. You need food.”

Mevi stared down at his notebook, then looked around, as if finally registering that they’d stopped moving. “Holy crap,” he muttered. “What time is it?”

“After nine local time.”

He took a deep breath and finally stared at Doyle for a long moment in which Doyle was very glad for the fact that they were still sitting in the car so his erection wasn’t as noticeable.

“Sorry. I get like this sometimes when I’m working. I tune everything and everyone out.”

“No apologies.” He’d hoped to use the ride to talk, but if Mevi was going to work, that was nearly as good.

Mevi stared out the windshield. “Where are we?”

“Place called Moriarty, New Mexico.”

“Huh. Where’s Sherlock?”

Doyle smiled. “Probably hanging with Watson. Let’s get unloaded and I’ll find us food.”

“Okay.”

The room was clean and bedbug free, but not as nice as the one in Barstow. Doyle thought for a moment Mevi might balk, demand to turn around and go back to a better hotel in Albuquerque, but he eventually took the innermost bed without complaint.

They got settled, Mevi agreed to Chinese for dinner, and Doyle headed back out for it.

There were still a few things they needed to take care of, like he and Mevi needed to exchange cell numbers. But so far, so good. While they hadn’t talked, meaning Doyle was behind on figuring out his approach with Mevi, at least Mevi wasn’t actively resisting him.

Although Doyle had hoped to stop at least a couple of places along the way.

When he returned to the room, Doyle felt a brief moment of panic when he opened the door and didn’t see Mevi there.

Until he realized the bathroom door was shut and he heard the shower running.

Setting their order on the small table, he walked over to the door, listening. Wouldn’t be the first client who tried to shake him while pretending to be in the shower.

Except he heard Mevi humming, maybe singing so softly he just couldn’t make out the words, and irregular sounds like someone showering.

If the guy was faking it, he was faking it well.

He was still standing there when he heard the water shut off and the shower curtain get pulled back. Doyle quickly stepped over to the table and started setting their food out.

Mevi emerged, a towel wrapped around his hips, and for a moment Doyle had to remember who this guy was.

Client.

Duh.

His shorter hair stuck up since it was wet, and now Doyle could see the guy apparently didn’t have any ink, unless they were hidden by the towel. He wasn’t bulky, but he wasn’t a skinny twink, either. Slender, muscles not so harshly defined it was a turnoff, with just a hint of softness about his build.

He walked over to his bags on the bed and started rooting through them. “Thanks for getting dinner.”

There was…something about his voice, the way he said it. Almost like he sounded guilty about something.

Doyle handed him the tester he’d already pulled out. “Before you eat.”

Mevi looked up from his search, staring at it for a moment before taking it from him and going through the routine.





Mevi wondered how long Doyle had been out there…and hoped he hadn’t heard him masturbating.

If the guy was straight, even better, it meant he could safely fantasize about Doyle all he wanted, right?

Right.

Except he’d rubbed out two orgasms while in the shower, not meaning to and thinking he’d use the shower to do even more work…until he thought about the sound of Doyle’s voice singing along with the Hamilton soundtrack and…there had been the first achingly hard woody. He’d nearly made it through his shower until he started getting hard again.

And with them in close quarters, better to get it out of the way like that than to go into the bathroom for a while later and have to explain it away.

While he was open-minded and didn’t mind people getting their kinky freak on, he wasn’t going to ask Doyle if the guy minded if he wanked in the next bed.

That was…excessive.

While Mevi dressed, Doyle turned the TV to the Weather Channel since the hotel’s cable seemed to have four channels, two of them showing livestock and ranching shows and the other one being Fox News.

“Sorry it’s not the best digs.” Mevi forced himself not to watch the guy eat with chopsticks, deftly, his long fingers easily working them. “Hopefully we’ll find a better place tomorrow. Did you decide if you want to sightsee?”

“I-I’d rather not.” He forced his gaze down into his moo goo gai pan. Being cooped up in such close quarters as a car would be exquisite enough torture by the time they reached Florida. No reason to string it out any longer than necessary. “If I’m not working we can…talk.”

“Fair enough.”

Mevi did like that Doyle wasn’t trying to push him too hard. “Do you have any kids?”

“Sorry?”

“You said you’re divorced.”

“No. No kids. Never wanted any, and she did. That was a contributing factor.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“No worries.”

Mevi tried to inject some humor into the situation. “I, heh, sorry, man. I thought you were gay, at first.”