Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (24 page)

No doubt about it. Memphis had been right about the man having a plan.

“Good to see you, Mary.” Tyler set his bag on the ground and squatted in front of the pair. “You too, Opal.” He reached out to scratch the canine that gazed at him with obvious adoration, wiggling in excitement. “You didn’t keep your clinic appointment last week,” he said to the woman.

She tipped her chin in an act of defiance. “How was I supposed to get there?”

“The clinic van came to pick you up, like it always does,” he said calmly, despite her belligerent tone, “but you weren’t here.” Mary didn’t comment, so he went on. “Why don’t you set Opal down so I can check your wound?”

The woman didn’t appear too happy with the idea.

“I can’t put her down,” she said. “You know how nervous she gets around strangers.” After a quick glance at Memphis, she frowned and went on. “She might run away.”

The dog looked well cared for, but she didn’t look nervous. And she certainly wasn’t sending Memphis any warm and fuzzy vibes. Instead, she seemed to give him the evil eye, as if sizing him up and wondering what he’d taste like.

Jesus, he’d really rather deal with poorly timed explosives right about now.

Tyler glanced up at him, and there was a smile buried somewhere in his tone. “My friend here would love to cuddle Opal while I check your arm.”

He would…
what?

Memphis stifled the curse. The lull in the conversation filled with three sets of eyes staring at him and the dog’s
yap, yap, yap
with barely a breath in between, either protesting the idea or excited about the opportunity to sink her teeth into Memphis’s arm.

Fuck, it’s just a little dog, Haines.

Besides, the teasing light was back in Tyler’s eyes, along with a tiny grin, both of which were adorable. Obviously today’s route had been chosen specifically with the little Chihuahua wannabe in mind. No way in hell would Memphis chicken out now. He wanted to keep that exact expression on Tyler’s face.

Gritting his teeth and praying he wouldn’t need stitches before this was over, he took the dog. She instantly started struggling to escape, and damn it to hell and back, the ear-splitting barks climbed by
two
octaves. He was forced to hang on to a smelly sack of bones with one hand and a wriggling, noisy little dog with a big mouth in the other. Sweat prickled his back.

He really shouldn’t find Tyler’s smug smile so amusing.

The man donned latex gloves, rolled up Mary’s sleeve, and peeked under a bandage. “This is healing nicely,” he said. “I can tell you’ve been changing the dressing. That’s good.”

“I was motivated,” she said with a scowl. “Cuz I don’t want you badgering me about infections and blood poisoning and losing limbs and stuff anymore.” She pointed a finger at her doctor. “And you ain’t taking no more blood from me again. Got that?”

Tyler’s lips turned up into another small smile. “I only drew a little lab work, Mary,” he said as he carefully pulled her sleeve back down over the bandaged arm.

She let out a snort.

With a sigh of relief, Memphis handed Mary the wriggling dog, who’d managed to yap the entire time in his arms and not pass out from the lack of oxygen. “Some of us don’t like being stuck with needles,” he said. “No one should have their body violated that way.”

Mary stared up at him as if seeing him for the first time and gave a quick nod of her head. “That’s right,” she said. She shot a frown at Tyler. “Next week, feel free to bring your friend along. At least
he
understands.”

Tyler hiked a brow as he pulled a package of dressing supplies from his bag and handed them to his patient. “Maybe,” he said as he stood up. “But he’s a busy guy.”

And then he took the bag from Memphis and gave a bone to Opal.

Of
course
, the dog loved Dr. Hall.

“See you next week, Mary,” Tyler said as he removed his gloves and tossed them into a nearby dumpster.

As Tyler headed up the alleyway toward their vehicle, Memphis followed, and his thoughts drifted back to the woman they’d left behind.

It was difficult enough dealing with the concept of people living on the streets, harder still when you got to know them. Yet Tyler did this every day, and he’d smiled more in the past hour than he had in the past few days. But was that a reflection of his satisfaction with his job or his dissatisfaction with Memphis’s presence to date?

He pushed the question aside.

“Where to now?” Memphis asked as they climbed into the clinic van.

“I have several regulars who hang out at Jefferson Park, so that’s where we’ll go next.”

Thirty minutes later, Memphis followed Tyler into the park, the strap of his bag hanging over a shoulder. Surrounded by a canopy of trees—and the pleasant scent of freshly cut grass, thank fuck—they headed up the gravel walk that cut through the grounds.

Tyler definitely had an interesting job.

This morning Memphis had learned the complex system of services Tyler and Alec provided required a long list of volunteers, a small clinic, and an RV where they saw patients at soup kitchens across the city. But Tyler preferred to make his rounds by foot. Which meant he wound up being responsible for the most difficult and least compliant patients. No wonder he could whip out the zen-like tone as needed.

Something Memphis could use today, because, as they headed toward a man on a park bench, fur hat in his lap, Memphis realized the fur hat
moved
.

God, not again.

“What the hell is that?” Memphis whispered.

“A Pomeranian mix,” he said.

Memphis groaned. “Of course it is.”

They drew closer to Tyler’s patient. The man appeared to be in his fifties and wore a threadbare warm-up suit, a fedora, and combat boots.

“Why are you here again?” the patient muttered with a frown at Tyler.

Undaunted, Tyler set his bag on the ground and pulled out a few pieces of equipment, setting them on the bench. “To take your blood pressure, Zachariah. And to make sure you’re taking your medications.” He gave his patient a level look. “Both of them.”

The older man continued to scowl for several seconds, and just when Memphis was sure the guy would refuse, the patient shifted on the bench and held out his arm. Tyler kneeled and opened his bag. Zachariah remained silent and moody, but Tyler ignored his patient’s glare for the entire time it took to take his blood pressure.

Task complete, Tyler pulled the Velcro fastening to release the cuff, the loud rasp breaking the silence. “Your numbers are better this week,” he said. “A six percent improvement overall.”

Memphis smiled. At least Tyler still put his mathletic abilities to good use.

“You must be taking your blood pressure medication.” Tyler reached into his bag and pulled out two bottles of pills, checking the labels before holding them out to his patient. “I hope you’re taking your antiretroviral, too.”

“I figure you take the time to bring the pills to me.” His scowl didn’t budge as he took both bottles. “No sense in me not taking ’em.”

Tyler stood and patted his patient’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Zach.”

Zachariah briefly looked flustered, as if unsure how to handle the friendly gesture. “Here,” he said, holding up his dog to the physician. “Can you check Fritz and tell me if you think he’s got low blood?”

Several beats passed before Tyler answered.

“I’m not a veterinarian, Zachariah.”

“Doctor. Vet.” The patient shrugged. “Same difference.”

Memphis chuckled at the claim as he watched Tyler grasp Fritz in his hands. After a split-second pause, he turned to hold the fuzz ball in Memphis’s direction with an innocent expression on his face. But there was no mistaking the amusement in his tone.

“Hold him for me while I examine him,” Tyler said.

Damn, he shouldn’t have laughed at the doctor/vet statement.

Memphis stared down at the dog that didn’t seem any happier than he did. Fortunately, this one was quieter and looked a little less…toothy. Feeling encouraged, Memphis scooped up the dog that could shed half a pound of fur and still win the World’s Hairiest Dog contest. When he tucked Fritz against his chest, a dampness instantly seeped through his T-shirt.

“Holy hell,” Memphis said. “He’s wet.” He stared down at the dog’s owner. “
Please
tell me it’s just water.”

A soft breath escaped Tyler’s throat, the muted version of a laugh that drove Memphis nuts. And, Jesus, he should at least get a
real
chuckle for his efforts.

“Of course it is,” Zach said, sounding offended. “I gave him a bath in the fountain today.”

Memphis shot him a weak smile. Great. Wet dog. That should leave a pleasant smell.

Tyler checked Fritz’s mouth and then ruffled the dog’s furry head. “I’m not a vet, but the color of his gums looks fine to me. I don’t think he’s anemic.” He took Fritz and gave him back to his owner. “I’ll see you next week.” He held out the sack with the remaining bone.

“Maybe,” Zach muttered.

But Memphis noticed the older man took the present for his canine friend with a smile—the first since they’d arrived. Tyler picked up his bag and headed off, Memphis falling into step beside him.

“You should be grateful,” Tyler said, eyes straight ahead as a corner of his mouth twitched. “Normally Fritz gets excited and urinates on people.”

Fuck
.

Memphis came to an abrupt halt. For a brief moment, he considered smelling the wet spot on his T-shirt. But, honestly, did he really want to know for sure?

“I think I understand why you spend twenty minutes every morning meditating,” Memphis said drolly. “Your job requires it.”

He was rewarded with his first ever Tyler 3.0 eye roll, making all the smells and questionable stains on his clothes worthwhile. Memphis grinned as they headed up the sidewalk again. The day had turned out better than he’d expected. But he wasn’t ready for it to end.

“I’m hitting the climbing gym this afternoon,” Memphis said. “Wanna join me?”

“No, thanks.”

“Wanna go bouldering instead?

Tyler slowed his pace. “You haven’t slept much these past two days,” he said. “And you’re
supposed
to be resting.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to rest when I’m dead.”

A sharp exhalation escaped Tyler’s lips, the sound of skepticism. As Memphis waited for a response to his invitation, he refused to contemplate why the answer was so important.

“I’d really like your company,” Memphis said, meaning every word. He halted on the sidewalk and turned to face Tyler. “Please.”

Tyler stopped and studied Memphis with an expression he couldn’t interpret. Traffic whizzed past them on the street, an engine knocking loudly. The sound faded as the poorly maintained vehicle sputtered up the road.

“Okay,” Tyler said.

The spike of satisfaction hit Memphis hard.

“I still have a couple of spots I’d like to hit before we go,” Tyler went on. “There’s a bridge a few blocks away where a few more of my HIV patients usually hang out.” He eyed Memphis’s less-than-fresh shirt, a hint of humor in his gaze. “But if you’ve had enough,” he continued, “we can go back.”

Memphis gestured in front of them. “Lead on, Dr. Doolittle.”

After a two-second pause, a smile lit Tyler’s face and creased the corners of his eyes as he began to chuckle. A full-on chuckle that lingered for a moment instead of being muffled or abruptly cut off.

Halle-freaking-lujah.

Voice husky with amusement, Tyler said, “You’re still such a doofus.”

Memphis discreetly inhaled a breath, absolutely refusing to show how affected he’d been by Tyler’s use of his old nickname for him. The name had often been accompanied by an affectionate look from his boyfriend, a look that had said, “you’re a moron, but you’re
my
fucking moron.”

And right now, Tyler’s smile and his laugh and the words—despite the absence of the territorial expression—warmed Memphis to the core. Like the first shaft of morning sunlight after a cold night’s sleep. His heart gave a little twitch, or a catch, or something similar. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And that was when he knew he was well and truly fucked.

~~~***~~~

Later that afternoon, Tyler’s thighs burned and his fingers ached from clinging to a thirty-foot-high boulder, waves crashing somewhere below. “Remind me again why we’re here?” he called up to Memphis.

Actually, Tyler knew why
he
was here. After the wild roller-coaster ride of the last thirty-six hours, he’d accepted the invitation to come climbing because he needed to figure out where in the hell the two of them stood now. Unfortunately, Memphis would be heading back to LA soon. Their time together was running out, and Tyler was really beginning to enjoy his company and,
God
, he felt…

His stomach twisted.

“We’re here for a very important reason.” Memphis grinned down at him from ten feet above, voice raised to be heard over the sound of the surf as he went on. “Since you already knew the Dirty Momma route to the top, I figured you needed to learn the Dirty Daddy route.”

Dirty Daddy?

Tyler quirked an eyebrow. “Of
course
you did.”

How Memphis could interpret Tyler’s tone while clinging to this bit of the rocky California coast, Tyler would never know. Regardless, the guy let out a laugh that didn’t sound near winded enough for the amount of effort they were putting into the climb. Despite his screaming muscles, Tyler couldn’t quit.

No way did he want to be left behind now.

The sun, though blocked by the occasional cloud, made the late afternoon warm enough to be comfortable. Tyler ignored the disturbing expanse of bare legs and naked chest and straining muscles on display above him. If he spent time gawking at Memphis, not only did he risk falling, memories of fucking him would fill his head as well, heating up his insides.

Unfortunately, Tyler was starting to feel as though that one time wouldn’t be enough…

Shit, it wasn’t
enough
.

Heart pounding from the climb and the disturbing thought, Tyler blinked the sweat from his eyes as he reached for the next handhold and tried to talk himself out of wanting more. But, in the elevator, he’d started out so pissed that he hadn’t been able to fully appreciate watching Memphis come undone. And now, dammit, he felt as though all the little things he’d wanted to enjoy had passed him by too quickly. Things like the sound of Memphis’s moans, the flush of color on his cheeks. The blissed-out look on his face. He’d had the man naked before him, but Tyler had been in such a frenzy of
take take take
he felt as though he’d missed out on the full experience. He had no one to blame but himself, of course.