2 Chapter 2

Now for the best question and answer I have to share: Why did Tal owe me? Because some drunk broke into his bar last winter, after hours, and thieved seven hundred dollars from his wall safe. I caught the bastard since Sheriff Lord and his boys in brown-and-gold had their hands full with other duties. There was no fee involved for Tal. No bill to pay. Nothing like that. It was something men sort of did in Stockton County. If you scratched my back, I would scratch yours when needed. And Tal just happened to have a back I wanted to scratch.

So Tal Linear had some scratching to do, and I was very itchy. That’s why I closed the agency early, locked its doors at five-twenty in the evening, and went two doors down Lockmar Street to the Linear Bar. I walked in, moseyed up to the bar, and found a seat. Like a gentleman, I looked the handsome cowboy in his seductive eyes, shared a serious look with Tal, and said, “I’ll take a bottle of Bud and any information you have on the murder of Evan Sting.” 3: Spiel

Tal gave me a look that said I was out of my mind. One eyebrow was arched more than the other and his lips formed a sideways S. “You sure about the Budweiser?”

I wasn’t going to have a beer, although I liked its smooth taste down the back of my throat. I told myself I wasn’t going to get drunk again, ending my days of binging. “Change it. l want a diet cola. Nothing strong. I’m on the clock.”

“That’s a good choice, my friend.”

He was handsome, adorable, and cute, all at the same time with his face full of freckles and the cleft in the center of his chin. He flaunted model-soft skin the color of off white with a pinch of pink. No cowboy could have convinced me that he was of mediocre looks. On the contrary, the guy was good looking all the way around with his narrow waist and pumped chest. His compact body was comprised of nicely built muscles and I deemed him quite squeezable for my needs. Of course I couldn’t take my eyes off him and wished for his quenchable face to collide with my own in a temperature-rising kiss.

“Don’t private eye cowboys like you ever take a day off?”

“Never. I can’t afford it.”

“Rumor has it that you’re loaded and reek of money. Why do you work anyway?”

“That’s why it’s a rumor.”

He placed a glass of diet cola in front of me and asked, “Lemon this time?”

“Skip the lemon.” What I really wanted was a shot of Jack, craving its sweet and stinging taste. There was always that strong and burning flavor at the back of my throat that I favored, wanting alcohol. Never had it dissipated. Not in the last three years since I had given up alcohol, knowing of my irrepressible addiction to the stuff, just as my mother had.

I took a sip of the cola to sustain my alcoholic urges, although it didn’t work in the slightest. What pulled me out of that unquenchable moment was Tal Linear and the charming smile on his pretty boy face, which just about melted me. A guy like him could keep me dry for years to come, away from the bottle. Who wanted a strong drink when I could become drunk on his tangible company and good looks?

“What kind of business are you on?” He leaned over the bar and consumed my looks, continuing to smile. He took in my six-two frame and one hundred and ninety pounds, crystalline blue eyes, and blond hair. Some said he rather liked light-haired and fair-skinned men such as myself, but most people lied. I was just a tad older than him at thirty-two, and maybe a bit more experienced about life, but those numbers meant nothing when our masculine bodies could slide together in a romantic embrace, sharing a pivotal kiss in our blending lives, right?

“Let me be blunt about this, guy.”

“That’s the only way you should be. Don’t be shy with me, Joe, and just spill it. You know that’s the way I work.”

Did I really want his help on my latest case or was I being selfish, drawing him to me, possibly willed to seduce him? Truth was I did need his assistance and decided to give him my spiel. 4: What Do You Say?

“You used to work for Dunny Sting as a ranch hand a few years back, didn’t you?” I asked, still craving something stronger than the diet cola in front of me, half thinking I was insane for walking into his bar, unable to push away the desire to enjoy an alcoholic beverage.