Prickly Business (19 page)

Avery toyed with the napkin under his glass, trying to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want Dylan to guess his interest in Lacey went beyond mere sympathy for Mr. Otis. “I hope she’s found soon. Alive.”

“We all do.”

The waitress arrived with their food then. Avery leaned back so she could set down his plate. Once she left, he grabbed the ketchup from the rack on the table, held it over his fries, and squeezed until he deemed the puddle big enough.

“Jesus.” Dylan sounded amused. “How about a little fries with your ketchup?”

Avery shot him a sheepish smile. “What can I say? I’m a fan of condiments. Besides, it’s organic.”

Dylan snorted and picked up one of his wings. “If you say so.” He stripped the meat off the bone in a few efficient bites, leaving a smear of buffalo sauce on his lower lip. “Although, I don’t know if organic counts for anything when you’re eating something cooked in grease.”

“Uh-huh,” Avery said stupidly, frozen with a fry suspended halfway to his mouth. His gaze was glued to Dylan’s lips as he fought the urge to lean across the table and lick him clean. He didn’t even enjoy the taste of buffalo sauce. He simply wanted a reason to put his tongue on Dylan’s skin.

Dylan noticed him staring and smirked. Then he drew his lower lip into his mouth and sucked.

Avery’s jaw went slack.
Oh fuck.
He could picture that mouth sucking on other things, and it made him want to—Avery shook himself. He was springing wood in the middle of Callahan’s, which wasn’t the type of establishment that overlooked people making out at their tables or sneaking off to the bathroom for blowjobs. Not that any blowjobs would be happening, because they weren’t about to go there. Nope.

But what would Dylan’s flavor be like? Would it match his scent—musky and spicy? Avery could almost feel his taste buds tingling.

He’d draw Dylan inside his mouth. He’d run his tongue around the ridge, slowly, so slowly, and maybe he’d gnaw on Dylan’s foreskin just a little, to see how far Dylan would let him go, how much he could take. Then he’d—

Avery wanted to slam his forehead against the tabletop.

No!
Rushing equals bad. No rushing.

Avery’s cock seemed disinclined to agree, though, and whatever expression he wore made Dylan laugh outright.

“Down, boy.” Dylan’s voice was playful, and the sight of him across the table, relaxed and joking—with
him
—made something unravel in Avery’s chest. The looseness expanded into a buoyant sensation, as if he were a falcon shifter who could sprout wings and fly, glide on the wind for miles. He’d never imagined at any point in the last two years that someday they’d be
together
, chatting and teasing each other. That there would ever be anything but animosity between them.

If they could have this, if they could have
more
than this, Avery might be happy in a way that seemed impossible. In a way that would make the money and his numerous mistakes and his parents cutting him off inconsequential.

He’d liked the idea of a mate. He’d longed to meet the other half to his soul. He hadn’t known it would feel like this when things were going right. But what if this was entirely on his side? What if Dylan felt nothing at all, save for physical desire, which could be explained away by pheromones and chemistry?

Avery’s inconvenient erection flagged as he tried to sort through his emotions. Not knowing what else to do, he dropped his gaze to his plate and stuffed his fry into his mouth.

“Avery? Are you okay?”

Avery nodded and let his hair shield his eyes as he picked up another ketchup-soaked fry.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Avery answered without lifting his head. He didn’t want to explain. “I’m fine.”

Dylan didn’t reply, but Avery could feel his doubt. The tension between them mounted. Then, suddenly, it abated. He felt a push—something tickling at the edge of his awareness.

There were times Avery sensed Dylan’s emotions when they were together—just vague impressions, and only the really intense ones. But outside of the time in Forest Park, he couldn’t recall Dylan intentionally trying to
send
him a certain feeling before. This was comfort, as if Dylan had sensed his sadness and confusion and wanted to ease him.

Avery met Dylan’s gaze across the table, but he didn’t speak. They stared at each other in silence until Dylan nodded to Avery’s fries. “Eat.”

Feeling lighter, Avery returned to his meal. When the bill arrived, he reached for the check. Dylan snatched it from him.

“This one’s on me,” Dylan said gruffly.

Avery’s pride took a hit, but he didn’t argue. He was putting aside every extra scrap from his delivery job to try to save for January’s rent, the first one he’d be responsible for without his parents’ assistance. He probably wouldn’t have enough, but he’d worry about that when the time came. Maybe his landlord would cut him a break, though he doubted it. Property in the Pearl District might be expensive, but it was also coveted and popular, especially converted industrial spaces like Avery’s. His loft wouldn’t stay empty long if his landlord kicked him out. There was no reason for the man to show him any leniency.

Avery bit back a sigh and pushed those thoughts aside.
Later.
Like when he wasn’t on a date with his mate.

He turned to Dylan when they stepped onto the sidewalk outside of Callahan’s. “Thanks for the food.”

“Anytime.”

A breeze kicked up, and Avery trembled despite his heavy sport coat. It had started drizzling again, and in late September the temperatures grew cooler every day. Some nights got down to the low fifties. Given his species, he really should be more bundled up in weather like this. In the wild, European hedgehogs typically hibernated during winter. Allowing his body temperature to fall too far or too fast could be disastrous. But warm and stylish weren’t mutually inclusive, and he got odd looks when he wore a thick jacket this early in the fall. Sometimes he sacrificed comfort and risked his health for fashion. The bane of being a bit of a narcissist, he supposed.

Dylan shook his head in obvious exasperation when he noticed Avery shivering. He shrugged off his leather coat and draped it over Avery’s shoulders. “At this rate you’ll have all my jackets soon.” He didn’t sound too put out about it. “Let’s find you a cab. I’d give you a ride home, but I only patched my tire. I’m not sure I trust it with the extra weight.”

Avery playfully cocked an eyebrow. “Are you calling me fat?”

Dylan snorted. “Don’t be a brat. I’d be surprised if you had an ounce of fat on you.”

Avery grinned and trailed behind Dylan as he stepped up to the curb. Taxis were rare in Portland, but the few that were around could usually be found near the bars and clubs.

Dylan lifted his arm. It took a minute or two before a cab approached and stopped. Dylan yanked open the rear door and leaned in to hand the driver some cash. When he straightened, he gave Avery a small smile. “I’m glad I got to see you tonight. I was worried you’d left when I got to the club. Rain check?”

Avery nodded and turned to get into the cab, but Dylan stilled him with a hand to the back of his neck. He looked up at Dylan, questioning. Before he could speak, Dylan dipped his head and fitted their mouths together. He kissed Avery, slipping his tongue inside when Avery’s lips parted on a gasp. He tasted of hops from the ale and spice from the wings and of Dylan.

Dylan.

Avery moaned and chased Dylan’s mouth when he broke the kiss and tried to pull away.

Dylan grinned and squeezed his nape. “Good night, Avery.”

Dazed, Avery let himself be nudged into the backseat of the cab. Dylan closed the door behind him and tapped the roof. As the driver merged into traffic, Avery turned to the window to search for his mate.

Dylan lifted a hand in a brief wave. Avery touched the glass in return. The increasing drizzle distorted his view, but he watched Dylan until the cab turned the corner. Then he closed his eyes and banged his head against the seat.

He was in a heap of trouble, as his mama would say. Trouble by the name of Dylan Green.

D
YLAN
DIDN
’
T
want to believe Avery was keeping something from him. What right did he have to know every single thing about Avery’s life? He certainly didn’t have the right to call Avery a liar or demand that Avery tell him whatever he was holding back.

Didn’t mean he had to like it. Because he didn’t. Not even a little bit.

What he liked even less was the feeling in his gut that he was missing something. The feeling had little to do with the secrets Avery kept and more to do with the gaping distance between them. The wall Avery built around whatever he was guarding didn’t help. Dylan didn’t want to think of it as his business, but part of him defended the fact that Avery, as his mate, should trust him with everything, no matter what. That was the part Dylan had to keep in check. No matter how much he thought he needed to know, he and Avery hadn’t had the best of beginnings. Therefore patience was the key. Maybe if he gave Avery reason to trust him. He’d come to realize the more time he spent with his mate, the less he wanted to be away from him. He thought about Avery constantly, to the point of even further distraction. Hopefully with a little patience, Avery would feel the same.

Yet Dylan still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about what was going on between him and Avery. He liked being with Avery. Liked touching him. And the kisses… well, the kisses were an added bonus. Not only had those moments sealed their mutual attraction, but they were the beginning of a connection between Dylan and Avery. One that made Dylan want more. Crave more.

Could it be possible that finding his mate wasn’t a virtual prison sentence? Could he have what his parents so obviously didn’t? Could he have it without resenting the failed bond between them or the fact that he and Avery had wasted so much time ignoring each other’s presence?

Lost in his thoughts, Dylan jolted at the knock on the doorframe. Lucas peeked through the office door, where Dylan was accomplishing absolutely nothing in terms of actual work, and arched an eyebrow at him but wisely didn’t comment. Instead he said, “We’re going out for lunch. You want anything?”

Dylan shook his head. “No, but thanks.” It wasn’t often he didn’t spend lunch with the crew—usually only in the case of meeting his mom—but he wasn’t up to it today.

Lucas eyed him. “Okay. You know how to get me.” He lingered a little bit longer, like he wanted to say something else, but then he waved a good-bye and left. Dylan was thankful for that.

Because what would he say, really?
The hedgehog I’ve been ignoring for two years is now a constant source of frustration and confusion. Also I’m pretty sure he’s hiding something, but I’m too chickenshit to talk to him about it.
Yeah, Dylan could picture Lucas’s reaction to that.

Dylan grunted, and it echoed loudly off the walls in his small office. Never mind that he sounded like a preteen girl on the verge of a breakdown because her crush wouldn’t talk to her.

Instead of angsting like said preteen, he picked up his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen. Pulling up Avery’s contact information brought a grin to his face. His hedgehog remained annoyingly self-obsessed, narcissistic, and bratty. But there were those quiet moments when it was just them, when Avery was himself—stuttered words, and shy smiles, real and vulnerable. It warmed the deepest parts of Dylan.

Rather than dwell on the why of that feeling, he tapped the call symbol and listened for the ring.

“Hello?” Avery’s voice was less hesitant this time—sweeter, more charming.

“Hey, brat.”

Avery’s huff at the nickname brought a chuckle from Dylan. He wished he could see Avery’s face, all flustered and a little irritated from his teasing. Before Avery could deny his bratty status, Dylan said, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Dylan was an early riser. It didn’t matter what time he went to sleep (which was usually pretty late), he was always up before the sun. Maybe Avery wasn’t a morning—or afternoon—person. He checked the wall clock—just after twelve.

“No.” Dylan could hear the glare almost as well as he could picture it twisting Avery’s features. Then he heard Avery’s heavy yawn just as clearly as if he were in the same room. “Just tired.”

“Not getting enough sleep?” Dylan couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

“Hmm…. Maybe I would if….” His soft, dreamy voice drifted off. He sounded unsure.

“If?”

“If you hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”

It didn’t sound quite right, but Dylan wouldn’t push. Although he wanted to be the reason Avery was up past his bedtime, but with a far different—sweatier—outcome.

“Me? Keep you up? Need I remind you that the club was your idea?” It came out raspier than Dylan intended, but if Avery heard the difference, he didn’t acknowledge it.

The melody of Avery’s laugh pooled deep inside Dylan, comforting and sweet. Dylan liked it.

“Yes.” Avery laughed. “You kept me up. Are you not the guilty party who showed up late?”

“Touché.” Dylan smiled into the phone. “Maybe I should make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me?”

“Yeah, I was thinking we could hang out tonight—order in or I could cook for you. We can veg in front of the TV, maybe watch a movie?”

It was a long shot, but the only way for him to figure out what his mate was hiding from him was to gain Avery’s trust, and the only way to do that was to spend time with him. With the added benefit of being alone. And with his mate. It wasn’t a hardship. In fact Dylan was coming to realize he’d rather spend time with Avery than just about anyone.

At first, Dylan had been afraid the pull of the mating bond was the only thing between them—that they had nothing more than their animal attraction—but the more time he spent with Avery, the easier it was to let go and at least
think
about what giving into the bond would be like. He wasn’t an idiot. It scared the hell out of him, and he wasn’t one to admit his fear. But this thing with Avery, the real emotions he faced… they were alarming, to say the least.