The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Dakota

Marcy Auchler still hadn’t shown up, and the Sheriff’s Office was still divided on whether she was missing or had left town voluntarily. For the time being, they were just keeping their eyes out. There also was no line on Penny Gillespie’s teddy bears.

Worse, Dakota’d lost his mind and kissed Tad. He should be focused on the cases and going over his notes, but instead his thoughts were stuck on the Tad Channel.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

That exact phrase had been rolling around in Dakota’s head all day long. Ever since he’d given into the urge to press his lips against Tad’s.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

He’d been thinking that Tad was courageous, determined to protect Dakota from Boone and, Dakota also knew, anyone else who harbored the same notions he did. Dakota had intended to tell Tad that Boone wasn’t the only jerk in town. And that it was no big deal, he could handle stupid people.

But instead he’d kissed him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was one thing to have a sex dream; that could be dismissed as his imagination and general lack of an active sex life. Imagining himself kissing Tad and actually allowing himself to follow through with the action were worlds apart. It wasn’t the guy part. He’d fooled around with both men and women, but physical stuff had never been particularly mind-blowing, and he’d never pursued more with those people.

Before now. And Tad Gillespie.

Jamming his apartment key into the lock, he turned it, ignoring the flutter of paper at chest level—he’d deal with whatever that was later. The quiet and peace of his apartment was what he needed now.

The door swung open, and Dakota stepped across the threshold. He stopped for a second to take a deep, and only sort of, relaxing breath. Releasing it, he started to shrug his coat off but pulled it back on when he registered that it wasn’t any warmer inside than outside.

Maybe that note taped to the door was important after all.

Stepping back out to the hallway, Dakota skimmed through the note and sighed. The universe was clearly working against him. Pulling out his phone, he called the number he knew best.

Tad’s door opened at the first knock. He’d probably heard Dakota’s footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Come on in,” Tad said brightly. “My place is your place and all that stuff.”

Unlike Dakota’s tiny studio, Tad’s apartment was spacious and had actual furniture. His folks had helped him buy it all after he’d graduated from college. At the time, Dakota had thought Tad was crazy for wanting a table and chairs, a bedframe and mattress, all sorts of kitchen gadgets. Waylon and Penny had offered to pay for a trip to Europe, but Tad had wanted furniture .

When Dakota asked him why, Tad had just shrugged and said he wasn’t interested in traveling overseas at that time, maybe later in his life. Instead, he’d said, he was interested in having a good night’s sleep and being able to watch cooking shows after work and trying to make an apple galette or whatever else suited his fancy.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Dakota said as he brushed past Tad. “They don’t know when the heater will be fixed, I guess.”

“I would be pissed if you stayed somewhere else, just so you know. And I’m sure this is all some sort of code violation. What if you didn’t have anywhere to go? What about the rest of the tenants?” He scowled. “Tenants’ rights are too often ignored in small towns like ours. I should see if Curtis wants to do a story, we could look into the owner of the building.”

Luckily, Dakota’s building was small, only six apartments, two on each level. Having been built in the 1940s, it was definitely showing its age, which was one reason why Dakota could afford it on his first-year deputy salary. Unfortunately, it also meant upkeep wasn’t necessarily a priority for the management.

Chuckling at Tad’s newest story idea, Dakota set his duffle bag down next to the couch and shrugged out of his heavy jacket, then hung it on one of the hooks mounted on the back of the front door. He noticed that Tad had moved his couch, partially clearing out space in front of the street-facing windows. What was he up to now?

“I thought about asking if I could crash at Jacob’s,” he said as he turned to face Tad again.

Tad’s jaw dropped, tenants’ rights forgotten. “You did not,” he hissed.

“He has a big place, I think. But it’s a ways out of town. What’s wrong with Jacob anyway? He’s a nice guy.”

He was teasing Tad a little, which wasn’t entirely fair of him. When Jacob wasn’t pulling beers, fighting fires, or rescuing baby ducks from storm drains, he volunteered at the local community center. He was almost too good. Dakota thought they might be sort of friends, even if he was terrible at that kind of thing, but he would never ask Jacob for help. It was hard enough asking Tad.

“He’s,” Tad sputtered. “He’s… fine. Stupidly attractive and a firefighter. Everyone likes firefighters.”

“But I didn’t call him, did I?” Dakota pointed out.

“Yeah.” Tad’s shoulders straightened. “You didn’t. Hah. Right. So, have you had dinner?”

He moved away, padding into his kitchen. Dakota followed after him as Tad must have known he would. He noticed that Tad’s feet were bare regardless of the fact that it was December. Tad hated socks.

He probably should have called Jacob. Jacob wasn’t dangerous.

“I grabbed a sandwich from the gas station.”

Tad scoffed. “That is not food.” Stopping at his refrigerator, he pulled the door open and peered inside. “I have a couple slices of your leftover pizza, and Mom brought some chicken and rice soup over the other day. Or I could whip up some pasta and red sauce?”

It was easier to give in and let Tad feed him than argue. Besides, Penny’s chicken soup was one of Dakota’s favorite things, which Tad was fully aware of.

“Soup sounds good.”

Bending to reach deep inside the fridge, Tad pulled out an enormous plastic container. “I think Mom expects you to eat some of this anyway. Why else would she pack up enough to feed an army?”

Dakota jerked his gaze away from Tad’s ass. He totally should have called Jacob.

“Er, uh, yeah.”

Turning to look at him, Tad frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just hungrier than I thought.” He groaned inwardly as he pulled out a chair and sat down at Tad’s prized possession, a red and chrome vintage kitchen table with four matching chairs.

Dakota was hungrier than he’d thought—but not for soup.

Just minutes later, he was spooning Penny Gillespie’s delicious soup into his mouth while Tad sat on the other side of the table and watched him eat.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Dakota asked between bites.

“Already ate,” Tad replied, his fingers restless against the tabletop.

Dakota shoveled another spoonful of almost too-hot soup into his mouth, as much as he could manage. Tad was anxious and probably wanted to talk about The Kiss, but maybe he was also nervous that Dakota would be a jerk—which was not an unlikely scenario, Tad knew him well—or act like it was no big deal.

It was a big deal.

Dakota, regardless of sometimes missing important stuff, had suspected for a while that Tad had feelings for him. Poor guy. But he’d assumed that Tad would go away to college and find someone else. It had been a bit of a relief to think that. He’d imagined Tad happy with some smart guy he met in Bozeman. But no, Tad hadn’t met anyone and instead had moved back to Collier’s Creek and reinserted himself into Dakota’s everyday life.

It had been Tad who encouraged Dakota to apply for the criminal justice program. It had been Tad who encourage Dakota to travel to Washington State and meet his new-to-him family. Many people—including Boone, obviously—dismissed Tad as nobody important. But in Dakota’s life, he was usually the voice of reason.

There was no way Dakota could risk losing that.

“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Tad said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Just thinking. Soup’s good.”

“It always is. Are we still on for a tree this week?”

Ah, that explained the open area in front of the windows. Dakota scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. He’d forgotten about promising to go with Tad to get a Christmas tree, which just proved that he was unsuitable boyfriend material. His preexisting condition was an aversion to intimacy. He’d set the Christmas tree and what it implied out of his mind.

Tad was still watching him closely, tensed, it seemed, for Dakota to say no, that he’d changed his mind.

“Yep, I’m still in.” Dakota stood to take his bowl over to the sink. Behind him, the silence was almost deafening. After quickly rinsing out the crockery, he turned back around.

Tad’s mouth was partially open, but he said nothing, apparently rendered speechless by Dakota’s words. But before Dakota could add any caveats or stupidity to the stupidity he’d already spouted, Tad’s brain came back online.

“Huh.” His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat. “I did not expect you to say that.” Tad waved his hand. “After, you know.”

Feeling one of those unaccustomed grins spread across his face, Dakota set his spoon down in the sink and sat back at the table.

“After you know what?” he teased.

Tad’s cheeks reddened under Dakota’s gaze. A second or more passed, and Tad narrowed his eyes at Dakota.

“Quit being an ass. You know, you kissed me today.”

“That I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Dakota said simply.

“Because you wanted to,” Tad repeated.

“Seems pretty clear. Have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?”

Tad considered his words for a minute.

“Actually, no. You’re one of the most stubborn people I know. Why now, though? I mean”—impossibly, his cheeks seemed to turn an even redder shade of red, making his caterpillar of a mustache stand out—“you know I’ve had a thing for you for ages.”

Dakota didn’t immediately answer. While he wished he hadn’t already taken his bowl and spoon to the sink, he pondered his reply.

Unsuitable boyfriend material .

It had been Niall who’d first made him think things could be serious with Tad. He had said something, assuming that he and Tad were already a couple. And boy-howdy hadn’t that given Dakota thoughts to stew about for months. Because it had felt like Niall had turned the light on in a very dark room.

He’d spent the ensuing months blinking against the glare. He’d been oblivious, but once he’d thought about it for a while, he’d known Niall was right, there was something , even if it wasn’t more than a hint. After that realization, Dakota had started to make a mental list about why he and Tad together was a bad idea.

Because if one thing was crystal clear, it was that Dakota Green was not good enough for Tad Gillespie, and he never would be.

“Did you kiss me because you feel sorry for me?” Tad demanded. His cheeks were still pink, but now his eyebrows drew together, his eyes narrowed, and his mustache twitched.

Dakota squinted at him. “What? What are you even talking about?”

He shrugged. “It’s the only thing I could think of.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dakota leaned back in the chrome chair. It creaked ominously. He didn’t know how to articulate his feelings. All he really knew was that feelings were stupid and they irritated him.

“I don’t do things I don’t want to,” he reiterated.

“What about now?” Tad demanded, standing up with his hands on his hips.

“What about now, what?” Dakota was floundering in foreign waters. What was Tad talking about?

“Do you, Dakota Green, want to kiss me, Tad Gillespie, now? Or was this morning a weird one-off?”

There was no way this conversation would end well. At some point, Tad would figure out that Dakota was a bad bet. But Dakota ignored those thoughts and instead rose to his feet and moved around the table so that the distance between them was reduced to a few inches.

Without allowing himself to contemplate the future, at least not past what he was about to do, Dakota Green followed his feelings for the first time ever.

He wrapped one hand around the back of Tad’s neck and tugged him close, close enough to catch the startled expression in Tad’s eyes before Dakota shut his own and brushed his lips across Tad’s for the second time that day.

For the second time ever.

Tad gasped in surprise but swiftly pressed himself against Dakota’s body. His fingers first tugged Dakota’s shirt from his jeans and then went sliding across his bare skin and over his ribs.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever,” he groaned, dragging his hands down Dakota’s torso.

This time, it was Dakota gasping. “Fuck, that tickles.”

Tad smiled against his lips. “How did I not know you’re ticklish?”

Without waiting for an answer, Tad returned his attention to Dakota’s body while Dakota tried his best to kiss Tad without throwing him to the linoleum and ripping his clothes off.

It was hard.

He was hard, and there was no way Tad could miss it, not the way they were pressed up against each other. Without conscious thought, Dakota already had his arms wrapped around Tad, and when his traitorous hands slipped down to cup Tad’s ass, he knew the battle was lost.

Tad had an incredible ass.

“God, Dakota,” Tad murmured. “If you stop now, the Sheriff’s Office is going to have a mysterious death on its hands.”

Dakota couldn’t help smiling, which was a weird feeling. He wasn’t a smiler. He should stop, a distant part of his brain insisted. But for once, Dakota ignored his brain.

He didn’t want to stop and he didn’t think Tad did either.