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  The phone clicked and Michael steeled himself. Time for the big-brother lecture.

  Sure enough, the first sentence out of Evan’s mouth was, “Michael, where in blazes have you been? Mom has been frantic. You were supposed to call hours ago.”

  Ah, the joy of older brothers.

  “I’m fine, Evan. How are you?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Baby.”

  Pleasantries exchanged. All was right with the world. Of course, it would be better with a couple hours of sleep. Michael would also settle for a really large cup of coffee. Probably should have gotten that before he called Evan. Michael’s family was much easier to deal with when he was fully caffeinated.

  “I made it to Putman around five,” Michael said.

  “So what have you been doing that you couldn’t take a minute to call your worrying family?”

  “I was at the hospital. Didn’t get back until about an hour ago. Figured I should—”

  “Damn, I knew we shouldn’t have let you go alone. What did you do, shoot yourself in the foot? Maryanne, pack up the kids while I call Mom!”

  “I’m fine!”

  He had to bellow the words three times before they registered with his overprotective sibling.

  “Yeah? Define fine?”

  “I wasn’t the one hurt. There was this guy crossing the street and a car tried to make a meal out of him. No big deal, he was just banged up. I’m at his place now, following strict instructions on the care and feeding of concussion patients.”

  Evan snorted. “My brother, the wonder medic. So I don’t need to come running to the rescue?”

  “Hardly.”

  “How’s the cabin?”

  That’s what he admired about his family. They had such incredible focus.

  “Haven’t seen it yet. I was kind of sidetracked by the whole car-meets-person thing.”

  “I still don’t know what you want with a hunting cabin in northern Wisconsin. You don’t hunt.”

  “Yes. Thank you for pointing that out. Again.”

  “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “Do me a favor. Be difficult. We’ve gone over this. I want a place where I can be myself, you know?”

  “So move back home.”

  The argument was a familiar one. Michael’s family had never understood why he’d felt the need to move away after college. In fact, Michael’s mother would have been happiest if Michael had moved back into his old room. Most parents couldn’t wait for the kids to move out. The Lakkis family didn’t want to let them go.

  The phone clicked in his ear again. “Michael? Is everything all right?”

  Michael smiled at the soft voice of his sister-in-law. He freely admitted to liking Maryanne a whole lot more than he liked his brother. “I’m just fine, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call my wife sweetheart.”

  “I wanted to see what was going on,” Maryanne replied, roundly ignoring Evan. “If I waited for hubby dearest to tell me, I’d never find out anything.”

  “I had a little excitement when I hit town,” Michael said. He quickly repeated his story for her. “So, as you can see, I’m unharmed and making friends. No worries.”

  Evan snorted. “You telling us not to worry. You do know that has the opposite effect, right?”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “I’m not done lecturing you.”

  “Yes, you are,” Maryanne replied for Michael, which was probably a good thing. Michael didn’t know what would have come out of his mouth, but Evan wouldn’t have liked it. What could he say? Michael loved his two brothers, but they all seemed to have what you could definitely call a tumultuous relationship. It was just so much fun to poke and prod. And Evan was really, really easy to stir up. Michael could rarely resist.

  Michael shoved his glasses back up his nose, humming absently in agreement as his sister-in-law related a story about some magnificent deed performed by his three-year-old nephew. Evan sighed loudly in his ear.

  “Maryanne, Michael really doesn’t care about Bryce’s drawing of a fish.”

  “It was a horse.”

  Oh, man. When Maryanne’s voice got all cold like that…

  Michael cleared his throat. “Well, I think I should go check in on my host. Patient. Whatever the heck he is. I’m sure he needs something.”

  Honestly? Michael didn’t think they even heard him. He hung up to the sounds of marital bliss, Maryanne raking her husband over the coals with a truly impressive snarl.

  He shook his head, tossing his phone onto a nearby table. He stretched, arching his back a bit, still feeling kinked up after his drive. Those blasted hospital waiting room chairs hadn’t helped much, either, and now a long night spent on the couch stretched in front of him. He was really going to need a nice wander through the woods, but he didn’t see it happening any time soon, and not just because of his patient snoring so loudly in the other room. No, he wasn’t stupid enough to go wandering the woods without checking the area out thoroughly first.

  Besides, Bruce hated the rain.

  * * * *

  Alli felt like warmed-over shit. Seriously. He wanted to yank the covers over his head, snuggle in bed, and block everything out, but the smell of coffee was calling to him. Shouting. Like a drill sergeant at a wayward private.

  He tossed the blankets back and lay down, staring blankly at the ceiling, willing his limbs to move. He was having extremely limited success when a thought occurred to him. Coffee? He hadn’t moved, and his coffeemaker was an ancient thing without a timer. So who the heck was in his house making coffee?

  The thought was enough to give him the added impetus needed to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress. He sat up, groaning when his head threatened to fall off and roll down the hall. He clutched his temples and staggered across the room on feet that weighed five pounds. Each.

  It was a good thing his house was small, because his path was far from steady. He bounced off the hallway walls like a pinball, but that was okay, because the periodic support kept him upright.

  Alli finally reached the doorway to the kitchen. He clutched at the frame with shaking hands, panting and sweating. Great Glorious Heavens. He should have just stayed in bed. Let whoever was here murder him in his sleep. At least he’d feel better.

  Alli shook his head at himself. That made absolutely no sense. A murderer wouldn’t be making coffee.

  Oh, well. Maybe he could still talk the guy into killing him.

  Someone cleared their throat a few feet from him, but Alli didn’t have the energy to be startled.

  “Um, I’m not going to kill you,” the vaguely familiar man offered uncertainly.

  Only then did Alli realize he’d been muttering aloud to himself. Marvelous.

  “Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

  The man bit his lip. “I don’t know. Caffeine probably isn’t a good idea.” He leaned closer, squinting at Alli through the lenses of his round glasses. “Your pupils are still really huge.”

  Alli should have been embarrassed at the whimper he made, but…coffee.

  He got a small smile and a gentle agreement in response. “But just half a cup.”

  Alli could live with that caveat. He got coffee. It had to help the pounding in his head. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Alli shoved himself away from the door and zigzagged his way to the table, the stranger hovering at his elbow with one hand extended, as if to catch him if—when—he started to go down. Alli made it there without incident, though, dropping onto a chair with a huge sigh of relief. He accepted the offered cup, pouting a bit when he saw the man hadn’t been kidding about half a cup. His first sip helped ease the disappointment. He could feel the fog clearing from his head almost immediately.

  Unfortunately, the pounding didn’t go away.

  “Who are you?” Alli asked.

  “Oh! Sorry. Figures you wouldn’t remember.” The man took a seat with his own mug and smiled.

>   It was a nice smile, Alli noted absently. Friendly and warm, turning the man’s deep brown eyes to a lovely melted chocolate color.

  “I’m Michael Lakkis. We met last night. On a curb.”

  Alli opened his mouth—and the memories flooded back. This time, he managed to suppress the groan. But, damn. Did he always have to embarrass himself in front of the good-looking ones? Alli’s Law—Cute Guy equals Klutzy Disaster.

  Michael chuckled. “I see you do remember me.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” Michael said with a wave of his hand. “I’m just glad you ended up in one piece.”

  “My head disagrees with that assessment.”

  “I imagine it does. You need more pills? The hospital sent home some really nice painkillers. I stashed them in the bathroom if you want one.”

  Alli hated taking drugs, but… “Yes, please.”

  “Be right back.”

  Alli watched the guy go, wishing he felt better. Because that was a really nice view. Snug, faded jeans hugged a firm bubble butt and clung to strong thighs. Michael wasn’t a big man, but he was compact. Not like Alli’s skinny, underdeveloped self. No, Michael was built and yummy and— Michael jogged back into the room with a small bottle. The view was even nicer coming than going. A T-shirt showcased muscular arms, the faded script only enhancing the well-developed chest, and the jeans displayed a nice-sized package to match the nice-sized butt.

  Alli took the pills gratefully and swallowed them dry—his coffee was gone. Hopefully, the drugs would stop his rambling thoughts. His lower body didn’t seem to realize that the rest of him felt ready for burial.

  Michael wrapped large, callused hands around Alli’s elbow and hoisted. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you back into bed. If those pills work anything like they did last night…”

  Alli blinked at him. Oh. Oh, the world was fuzzy. Wow. Those were good drugs. Fast, too. Of course, Alli had found out the hard way in the past that human drugs didn’t always work so well on his not-so-human self. Or rather, they worked too well.

  Michael laughed, a low, rich sound that grabbed onto Alli’s cock and squeezed. And he was starting to feel like doing something about it, too.

  Alli hung off Michael’s arm, letting the bulky man guide him back to the bedroom. Damn. Was that him giggling like an idiot? Yep, it was. Huh.

  “Okay,” Michael huffed. “Bed.”

  “Only if you join me,” Alli teased. He lost his balance and dropped backward, impressed when the mattress appeared to catch him. He giggled again and ran a hand over Michael’s cut abdomen.

  Michael blushed and caught Alli’s hand as it started to wander lower. “Okay, you’re really high. Lie down.”

  Alli splayed his arms and flung himself down, flashing the lovely man above him his best sexy grin.

  Some little part of Alli was screaming, “Stop, idiot!”. Alli didn’t flirt. Ever. And he never, ever came on to someone he liked. He was more of the tongue-tied, hide-in-the-corner type. That same little voice insisted he was going to be humiliated later. The painkillers drowned it out.

  Alli wiggled with as much enticement as he could manage. Waggled his eyebrows for good measure. Then did it again, because that was cool. He didn’t know he could do that.

  Michael snorted, hand coming up to cover a laugh. “I think we need to let Doc know that you have a really low tolerance for painkillers.”

  Alli just smiled. “I like it.” His words sounded a bit slurred to his ears and he shook his head to clear it, pleased when he didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of the pain from earlier. Alli ran a hand up his—bare?—chest. Oh. Apparently, he was only wearing a pair of boxers. Huh. He hadn’t noticed that before. Well, the lack of clothes made things easier, for sure.

  Michael smiled, a touch regretfully.

  No. No regret. Just get your ass down here.

  When Michael shook his head, Alli realized he was speaking aloud again. Then Michael lifted his arm to look at his watch and began counting. “Five, four, three…”

  Alli never heard him hit one.

  * * * *

  Michael stared down at the sleeping man and set his amusement free. He rearranged sprawled limbs, chuckling softly. His laughter didn’t slow, even after he tucked Alli back into bed and quietly left the room.

  The man was just the cutest thing. On those dang pills, he had zero inhibitions. Unfortunately, Michael doubted that same lack of inhibitions would last past the drug-induced buzz.

  He was right, too. Alli came stumbling out of the bedroom again approximately four hours later, blinking sleepily.

  “Who are you?” he asked, face scrunched adorably in confusion.

  “We’ve been over this a couple of times already,” Michael offered.

  “We have?”

  “Michael. We met last night, then this morning, and—”

  Michael could tell the exact instant that Alli remembered. His face flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. Michael stared in fascination, having never seen a person quite that color before. It kind of clashed with the hair. And what hair it was. Long, hanging halfway down his chest in thick ropes, all tangled from a restless night. The sunlight hit it just right, turning the deep red to a fiery halo.

  Alli stammered out a few jumbled sentences, and Michael tore his attention away from the hair to the man’s mouth. Of course, that didn’t help. Alli’s mouth was almost as appealing as his hair.

  “Are you hungry?” Michael asked.

  Those lush, extremely kissable lips opened and closed soundlessly a few times. “I suppose?”

  The silence grew increasingly awkward as Michael put together a couple of sandwiches. By the time Alli had nibbled on half of his turkey and Swiss, Michael was beginning to squirm in his seat. He didn’t do silence like this. Not for long periods of time. But whenever he started to say something, Alli would flush fiery scarlet again. The color wasn’t so fascinating anymore.

  Michael actually sighed in relief when his phone started singing from the living room. He dropped his sandwich and bolted.

  “Hello?”

  “Good afternoon, Michael.” The doctor’s voice echoed cheerfully across the line. “I was just calling to check in on our patient.”

  “He’s fine,” Michael assured him. “Woke up earlier with the mother of all headaches, but I gave him another one of those pills and he seems to be better now. Next time, though, I think I’ll chop the pill in half.”

  “Might not be a bad idea,” Doc replied dryly. “He certainly seems to be more…sensitive to the side effects than most people.”

  “You can say that again,” Michael said.

  “Well, I appreciate you looking out for him. Not everyone would.”

  “I didn’t get the impression I had much choice,” Michael teased with a wry voice.

  “Oh, we could have found someone else. But you were just so handy. Anyway, he should be all right on his own now, in case you have somewhere else to be. Tell Alli I’m glad he’s feeling better and I’ll check in with him again sometime in the next day or two. Oh, and not to worry about the store. Chris already put the ‘Closed due to accident’ sign up again.”

  “Will do. Thanks.” Michael didn’t feel up to the mental effort required to puzzle out that last bit. He’d just repeat it and hope Alli knew what it meant.

  Michael hung up and turned, taking an involuntary step back when he found Alli right behind him. “Oh. Hi. That was the doctor. He said he’ll check in with you soon, but you should be okay now. And that Chris put up the accident sign and you’re not to worry about the store.”

  “Thank you,” Alli replied softly. While staring quite intently at his bare feet. Well, damn. And here Michael had been hoping to use the situation for less than altruistic reasons. When Alli looked up, though, Michael realized those half-formed plans were shot full of holes. With a high-powered machine gun.

  “I appreciate you looking out for me. And the sandwich. And sa
ving my life. All of it. I can manage now. Thank you.”

  Alli sort of stuttered off when he started to repeat himself, shuffled his feet a few times, then muttered something about a hot shower before ducking back out of sight. Michael huffed, raking his hand through his thick dark hair in frustration.

  It only took him a couple of minutes to clean up the kitchen. Back in the living room, he folded the blanket he’d used the night before and laid it across the back of the couch then rearranged the pillows. He stood there for a minute, hand on one hip, and listened to the water turn on. The trickling sound led to images of smooth, creamy skin and—

  Michael shut his brain off viciously. No point in going there right now. It would just leave him frustrated, annoyed and horny.

  Thinking of the look on Alli’s face, Michael came to a decision. What was that saying? Retreat is the better part of valor? Something like that, anyway. In this particular case, it might be more beneficial in the long run to make himself scarce right now. Give Alli a chance to pull himself together and make his move at a later date.

  It wasn’t until he’d closed the front door behind him, stuck his hands in his pockets, and started walking that a thought occurred to him.

  He had no car. And not the slightest clue where he was going.

  Well, hell. He dug his phone out and dialed the one other person he knew in town, cringing even as he did so. The thought of the interrogation… Oh, well. No help for it.

  “Hey, Chris? How ’bout giving a guy a ride?”

  Chapter Three

  Michael valiantly resisted the urge to pace, planting his feet on the peeling tile in front of Chris’ desk. He arched one eyebrow at the deputy in a silent question. Chris just smiled back at him, probably trying for angelic but falling far short.

  Michael sighed. “How long do I have to stay here?”

  “Until George calls.”

  “And George is?”

  “The mechanic working on your truck.”

  “Couldn’t you just—”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even know what I was going to ask,” Michael pointed out.