Page 169 of Too Close To Home

Deacon apparently disagreed when he nudged Jake’s knee with his own, checked Teddy was still occupied, then lowered his voice. “So…What’s happening with the detective?”

Jake took a bite of pizza. “What detective?”

Deacon shoved him. “Oh, fuck off.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me what detective. The blond one you practically rearrange your entire face for every time he walks into a room.”

Jake swallowed the pizza. “I do fucking not.”

“You do. It’s disturbing.” Deacon nudged his knee again. “But you’re distracted, too.” He took another pull of his beer. “So? You shagged him yet, or are you still staring at him like you’re hoping telepathy might get his clothes off?”

Jake pushed a bit of crust around the box. “It’s nowt like that.”

Deacon’s eyebrows went up. “Mate. I’ve seen you look at men you wanna fuck. Usually lasts about twenty minutes, then you disappear and come back with your hair even more fucked than usual.”

“Cheers.”

“Anytime.” Deacon leaned back on one hand. “This ain’t that.”

Jake didn’t answer.

Because that was getting uncomfortably close to something he’d been trying very hard not to think about.

“He’s a copper,” he said eventually. “That’s all.”

“What’s all?”

“Why it’s…” Jake gestured vaguely with his pizza. “Complicated.”

Deacon went quiet for a second.

Fuck.

Jake realised the mistake approximately one second too late.

“Complicated?” Deacon repeated.

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, this is brilliant.” Deacon grinned. “Jake Whitton has complications.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“You don’t have complications. You have sex. Sometimes you have arguments. Occasionally both at once.” Deacon then pushed himself to his feet, stretched until his back cracked, and grabbed his guitar. He slung the strap over his shoulder and he peered back at Jake. “Like I said the other day, maybe it’s time we grew up a bit.”

Jake looked at him. “Speak for yourself.”

“I am. But look at you. You’re already halfway there.”

“It’s a fucking bed, Deac.”

“Gateway furniture, mate.” He adjusted the strap across his shoulder. “Next thing you know, you’ll have matching towels and a boyfriend.”

Jake threw a crust at him. Deacon ducked it easily the answered by striking out a sharp riff, fingers sliding cleanly over the strings as the amp kicked it back through the bedsit.

He grinned at Jake through the noise. “We’ll see.”