Mayor's son Dakota Julian is minding his business and marching in the annual Heritage Pride Parade when a fight breaks out between him and some hecklers. Dakota isn't a stranger to trouble and thinks he can battle himself out of the situation with his fists, until the police arrive and arrest everyone involved.
The last person in the world he expects to bail him out of jail is the mayor’s bodyguard, Roman Lombardi, who is supposed to be out of town. Dakota and Roman have history, but this is not the way he wants to impress the tall, handsome, and muscular bodyguard.
Even though Dakota promised he wouldn’t be participating in this year’s Pride march, Roman isn't surprised to see him there, strutting his stuff wearing a tube top, short shorts, and cowboy boots. Nor is he surprised when Dakota gets into a fight and is hauled off to jail.
What surprises him is Dakota throwing his arms around Roman’s neck and kissing him senselessly. Though flattered, giving the media ammunition to use against the mayor doesn't seem like a smart thing to do. What also isn't smart is the mayor asking Roman to keep an eye on Dakota for the weekend while he entertains guests. After that kiss, anything is bound to happen.
“Julian, you’re free,” the bailiff said from the other side of the cell.
Dakota was in a holding cell along with some of the guys he’d gotten into a fight with. Despite the ugly names they had called him, a couple of them had been checking him out in that much more interested than appalled way. Two of them had made several wisecracks about his outfit. You would think they’d never seen a guy in hot pants before.
Dakota walked toward the cell door. Someone whistled.
The bailiff opened it.
Dakota stepped out. He couldn’t run because his legs were shackled.
Someone whistled again, then the guy chuckled. “See you later sweetie.”
Gross bastard. He wasn’t about to drop his guard. He didn’t need a man bad enough to sleep with the enemy. It was a sure way to turn up unalive.
Dakota was taken to a room and given back his things, like his boots, his car keys, and his identification. That was all he had when he marched in the parade.
“You’re free to go,” another officer told him.
He was unshackled and let out into the waiting room.
It was hard to miss the exceptionally handsome person who waited for him. “Hey,” Dakota said. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
Roman Lombardi stood, dwarfing Dakota. Even as kids Dakota had always been shorter. “When did you get back?”
“A couple of hours ago. We were on our way home from the airport when our way was blocked by a Pride march someone said he wouldn’t be doing this year,” Roman said in that condescending deep tenor voice.
“Oh, well, I didn’t plan on participating, but you were gone and I got bored.”
“Don’t blame this on me, squirt. What’s up with this outfit?”
Dakota looked down. “What’s wrong with my outfit? I’m covered.”
“Barely,” Roman said. “Let’s go. Aldo is waiting.”
“What’s he doing here?” Dakota asked as he headed toward the door.
Roman led the way.
Dakota checked him out. His best friend looked as good from the back as he did from the front. He had nice thick thighs and a hefty rump.
Aldo was waiting beside the car. “Mr. Julian, funny running into you here.”
His father’s chauffeur had jokes. It wasn’t the first time his father sent his chauffeur to bail him out. “Home, Alfred,” Dakota joked. He was Batman and Aldo was his Alfred. He got into the back seat.
Roman got in beside him.
Aldo closed the door then got into the driver’s seat.
“Thanks for saving my life again,” Dakota said to Roman. He and Roman had history. He had been a very precocious child. That’s how his mother described him. And he would get into all kinds of stuff. Even though Roman told him not to do things, he still did them. He didn’t know why.
Roman, on the other hand, was a goody two shoes. He was mannerly, went out of his way to help someone out, and he was dependable. Even as a kid he was neat, kept an organized room, and always did as his parents asked. They were as opposite as night and day, but they clicked.
“What was I supposed to do, let you drown?” Roman asked.
“No. Imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw you. Where did you come from?”
“Aldo and I were parked across the street, and we were watching the parade when all heck broke out.”
Heck?
“Then I saw when the water hit you in your face and you were struggling to breathe. It was like I felt your life slipping away.”
Roman had an uncanny knack for knowing when he was in danger.
“I’m so glad you know CPR,” Aldo said. “Imagine calling his father and telling him that his baby had drowned.”
“You called my father?” Dakota asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I do work for the man.”
“What did he say?” Dakota asked.
“That I have to keep an eye on you tonight because he and your mother are entertaining,” Roman answered.
“Ah. He doesn’t want them to know about me.”
“Yes. You got yourself arrested again,” Roman said.
“Like I planned to do that,” Dakota said in defense of his situation.
“The officer said you started.”
“I did not. That guy called me a twink,” Dakota argued. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Ignore him.”
Dakota frowned. “I said what I was supposed to do, not what you would do.”
