A Quiet Man (shifters and partners #19) Read online

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  A Quiet Man (shifters and partners, #19)

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  A Quiet Man | by Hollis Shiloh

  the end

  -Hollis | Sign up to get news about my upcoming stories: | https://www.subscribepage.com/d8j3l8 | Check out my short story a month on Patreon: | www.patreon.com/hollisshiloh

  Story copyright May 2018 by Hollis Shiloh.

  All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from the author. All characters and events are fictitious, and any similarity to real people or events is coincidental.

  Cover art by Bree Archer. Image content is being used for illustrative purposes only and any people depicted in the content are models.

  Proofreading by Carol Davis (http://caroldavisauthor.com/a-better-look-editing-services/).

  ~

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  About the story:

  Tomas Quiróz is a quiet guy. He's content with his books and his job as a cop, and working with his wolf shifter friend, Riley. But lately, Tomas is lonely — and he starts feeling strangely drawn to a cute guy. Between discovering new things about himself and trying to navigate a possible relationship, Tomas has to deal with Riley's jealous husband, the new guy at the precinct who wants to be friends (or more than friends?), and finding the best way to be himself.

  60,000 words – very low heat

  A Shifters and Partners story

  Takes place after "LOYAL" and contains characters from that story.

  A Quiet Man

  by Hollis Shiloh

  "He's cute, but I wouldn't fuck him."

  "Oh? Why not? You a racist?" The girl spoke in a teasing voice to her friend. Maybe she thought racism was a funny subject for a joke.

  Tomas slid lower in his seat at the diner. He'd recognized the voices of two women who worked at the precinct, although he couldn't remember their names. White girls, not bad-looking, but nobody he'd thought about twice "that way." He was beginning to think he didn't think twice about anybody "that way."

  He knew it wasn't good to hunch in on himself, but whenever people started talking about fucking and racism, he watched his back. Tomas was Latino, generally acknowledged as "pretty," and got antsy whenever people talked about him behind his back. Which he hoped wasn't happening now. But it usually was.

  The girl in the booth said, "Well, clearly he's gay." She slurped on her milkshake as if for emphasis. Tomas's ears burned. "He's always hanging around that gay partner of his. They're so handsy!"

  "Ew, but the wolf's married! You don't think...?"

  "Who knows what they get up to? Anyway, he's too cute to be straight," she added in a tone that implied everyone knew that. "And he hasn't checked out my boobs once."

  "That doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's just nice. You know, polite? Manners? Ever heard of them?"

  "Some things, a man can't hide," said the other girl.

  "Maybe you could turn him," said the first one, back to teasing now. They both giggled at the thought. Really, they couldn't be that much younger than he, if at all. Why did listening to them remind him of the teenage girls in high school?

  It occurred to him that he was eavesdropping. Also, that there was no way to get out of it unless he got up and walked past them. Which would definitely get him spotted and be even more embarrassing than sitting here with his ears burning.

  There was a loud crash. Both girls shrieked. "Oh, whoops! Sorry! I'm so sorry!" the waiter said in a loud voice. "Oh, geez, I'm so clumsy. I'm all thumbs! Here, let me — no, I'll — can I get you a towel?"

  "You've ruined my shirt! Yeah, you can get me a towel — and I'll be sending you the bill for my dry cleaning as well!"

  "Oh, geez," the waiter said humbly. "I'm awfully sorry."

  They had the same waiter Tomas did, a nice guy, somewhat fluttery, slim and appealing in a big-eyed way, a youngish guy with a quick smile and warm eyes. Unlike him to be clumsy.

  "In fact," the angry girl said, her voice gaining strength, "I think I'd like to speak with your manager!"

  Tomas could bear many things, but not watching service workers get dressed down for mistakes. He raised his shoulders and turned around on the squeaky seat, peering over the booth separator at the two girls. "What's going on? What seems to be the problem?" he croaked. His throat had gone dry, and his heart had clenched. Tomas hated confrontations, although he'd trained himself not to let it show as much as it used to.

  "The problem? This guy knocked my coffee all over me! Why—" She stopped suddenly, blushed bright red as she recognized him, and fell silent.

  Speaking deliberately and maintaining eye contact, Tomas said, "I'll pay your dry-cleaning bill. It's no problem. Just send it to me."

  "Oh, no, that's okay. It wasn't your fault."

  "Well, I'm sure it wasn't this guy's, either." He gestured vaguely to the waiter, who was doing less fluttering and more alert watching at the moment. "Accidents happen, after all."

  "Sure, sure."

  "Everybody makes mistakes. Can I cover your meal for you? Would that help? Maybe your friend has a shirt you can borrow back at the precinct. Just to change into for now." It wasn't an unlikely suggestion; many people kept at least one change of clothes at the precinct, just in case.

  The girl blushed again but nodded. She grabbed her purse and got up without another word, heading towards the door, her face bright red. The other girl followed, looking a mixture of amazed, amused, and awkward.

  "I'll see you back there, then," called Tomas. "I hope your day improves."

  The second girl glanced back at him as if she was trying to figure something out, but the one with the stained shirt didn't.

  Tomas sank back into his seat and let out a breath. Clearly, they were letting him pay. It was a relief they were gone; he didn't know how much longer he could've pulled off the calm, collected, and reasonable thing.

  "My hero," the waiter said softly, cleaning up the mess quickly.

  "Add their bill to mine," said Tomas. "I know it wasn't your fault."

  The waiter looked at him quizzically, head tilted to the side, then hurried back to his work, ducking his head. "Thanks."

  Tomas's mother used to work in a diner. He knew how awful it had been for her when customers chose to be assholes, demanded things for free, or insisted on talking to the manager about something that wasn't her fault. Not to mention cheaping out on the tip even though they knew she was earning less than minimum wage without it. She was "Mexican," and poor, and couldn't do anything about it. And what did they care if she had enough money for rent or to feed her kids that week? Tomas could never stand to see a waiter or waitress abused, and these days, he could afford to tip well, and always did.

  He also thanked his lucky stars that his mother no longer held that job — and that he wasn't retailing anymore, either. His first job hadn't been as bad as hers, but it was long hours and difficult bosses and facing customers' whims without any real sense of being supported or protected from the psychopaths among them. Tomas could usually talk people down from being unreasonable, but he'd hated how stressful it all was, and most of all the feeling that nobody really saw him as human.

  He supposed he'd learned a lot of skills that helped in navigating the police force, where he'd finally ended up working. Don't make waves. Go the extra mile. Be polite no matter what... It wasn't always easy working in law enforcement, but it
was good for him to remember how much worse it could have been.

  Tomas was third-generation American, but he often felt like he'd been saddled with the burden of second-generation expectations. His grandparents had helped raise him, and they always expected him to be better than the other kids his age in every single way. Don't pick up an accent, get better grades than anybody in class, work hard on the weekends and save every cent you earn for college. All that, and be a good, respectful boy and listen to your elders and do lots of chores and don't expect any allowance for them (What are you, a spoiled white kid?), don't get in trouble or turn on loud music or speak when the adults are talking. Don't make waves, don't get noticed, don't fall in with a bad crowd.

  He'd been lucky that he liked to read more than anything, and that being curled up with a book was at least one time when he was a "good boy" not subject to criticism. His family had always been proud of how studious he was, and that he even read books for fun. When he was buried in a book, he didn't need to be scolded or reminded of the ways he was falling short. His brother, who had a louder and more boisterous personality, had chafed a lot more under their grandparents' part-time care, and nearly as much at home, when their parents were home and not working.

  As much as he and his brother had both complained about it at the time, Tomas was grateful he'd had parents and grandparents who cared about him, and he knew their strictness and the structure of a strong family had helped more than hurt in his life. It was still hard for him to make waves, though, and he always felt the burden of representing more than just himself whenever he interacted with people — that he had to be better than anyone else to be half as good. To a certain extent, that echoed through every public interaction he'd had to this day.

  Now, he was a grown man, and his family was proud of how far he'd risen in the police force. They even liked his partner, the wolf shifter Riley — so big, handsome, shy and gentle. They might wish he'd find a nice girl and settle down, but they didn't have any real complaints about him or his life. His brother, who'd ended up becoming a mechanic (with big, muscular, tattooed arms), had made them proud as well — he had a thriving business nobody could fire him from, handled all their car problems himself, and with his beautiful wife, had two cute kids.

  Tomas sometimes felt as though he was surrounded by men with more testosterone than he'd ever had in his life. He wasn't the tallest guy, he was more sleek than bulky, and although he was "a handsome boy" according to his mother, most people thought he was pretty or cute, rather than attractive in a more masculine way. Of course it didn't help that he was youthful-looking. But it still kind of hurt when girls assumed he was gay, and guys assumed he was a heartbreaker trying to steal all the girls. When people assumed anything at all about him, sometimes. He never went out of his way to be noticed "that way" or to look particularly attractive (in fact, sometimes the opposite). But everyone else always had an opinion.

  Mostly, he'd stayed away from all of it by burying himself in work, in books, or in the continually burgeoning life of Riley and his husband Justin, a mismatched pair if ever he'd seen one. But they loved each other, and so far, it was working. They'd become foster parents, filling their big house with unwanted shifter kids, forming a happy family with those two very different fathers looking after them. Gentle, soft-hearted Riley and bossy, go-getter Justin. Justin might be too hard on them without Riley's steadying counterweight, and Riley would definitely be too lenient without Justin there.

  "I said I'd pay. I meant it," Tomas said when the waiter put the bill on his table apologetically — the bill for only his order. "You won't get in trouble because of them, don't worry. We work together."

  "Yeah, I figured." The waiter looked into his eyes as if he really saw him and felt something so close to sympathy and tenderness that it was deeply disconcerting. Tomas felt physically jolted by the eye contact — fortunately brief. "Don't worry. I got it covered."

  Tomas frowned but didn't argue. He didn't have it in him to argue with anyone right now. He made sure to leave a big tip, though, to cover everything.

  As he walked back to work, he wondered about it. Had the waiter known more than he seemed to when he spilled that coffee on them and got the topic off Tomas and his flaws? Tomas came here a lot, and the guy had never once been clumsy. Tomas suspected he was gay, not that it was any of his business. If so, maybe he'd taken issue with the girls laughing about "turning" a gay man.

  But he wouldn't know it was me, would he? Not that I'm gay anyway.

  Inwardly, Tomas sighed. Sometimes he didn't know what he was. He'd never once looked at someone and thought, "Damn, I'd like to have sex with you!" But he had been attracted to people before, and he'd felt the deep longing for more. He'd just never achieved it in his life — not with anyone. His few crushes had never been returned, his attempts at relationships had gone nowhere fast, and he'd been too busy, too bookish, too shy (and most of all, just not interested enough) to make relationships a priority.

  He wasn't a virgin, but he felt as if he might as well have remained one, as unfulfilling as passing that milestone had been for him. It wasn't just a case of one-off bad chemistry; he'd experimented in college, and neither men nor women had really done it for him — not the way sex did for other people. He wasn't sure what was so great about sex, frankly, that people placed such a high priority on it. A good meal, a good book, or watching an exciting ballgame were a lot more fun.

  He'd wondered more than once if he was gay. After all, he'd never really noticed women the way you were supposed to as a straight guy. But then again, he'd never noticed men that way, either. He didn't drool over anyone. That didn't mean he was blind to appealing physical traits, and he could definitely feel a sort of wistful tug when he saw someone attractive — of either gender — for the sort of tender, loving relationship he'd sort of realized he might never have. A happily married couple like his brother and sister-in-law made him feel wistful for what he might never find. And then there was Riley and his husband. They were happy together — and he was glad for them.

  But sometimes he felt a little jealous. After Riley had moved out (he used to room with Tomas), he'd realized how lonely it could be to live alone. He'd gotten used to having his friend there. Riley was the best partner a guy could ever have — Tomas was convinced of it — and definitely worth the times when Tomas had to be the squeaky wheel to stand up for the shy, anxious wolf shifter.

  Riley might look fierce and deadly — he had a huge build, strong muscles, and a tough face — but he'd had a lot of people and situations in his life that had beaten him down. That, and a naturally quiet, deferential personality, made it easy for people to walk all over him if someone didn't stick up for him. Tomas didn't mind being that person. Although lately, Riley was beginning to better handle conflict and speaking his mind. Something about being a married man, and a dad now, too, seemed to have given him extra strength and what was for him, anyway, extra confidence. There was nothing remotely confident about him compared to most cops, but he'd made huge strides since Tomas had first met him.

  When Tomas got back to the precinct, Riley hopped up from his chair, a grin on his tough-guy face. "Tommy! You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm good."

  Riley had gone for lunch with his husband, who also worked at the precinct, in a different area. (He dealt with murders and cold cases, which Tomas and Riley didn't.) Tomas didn't like being the third wheel on their lunch dates when he could get out of it. Justin was less likely to snipe at him lately, and they got along fairly well most of the time, but it was still awkward at times — and Tomas thought it best to avoid opportunities for Justin to get territorial.

  It was funny, because wolves were supposed to be the territorial ones, but Riley was never like that, while Justin (not even a shifter) could be pretty intense. He got jealous quickly, although he'd been working on it. At first, he'd thought Tomas was his rival for Riley, and he hadn't dealt with it well. Nowadays, they mostly got along, and Justin was too busy
with other things to be as paranoid. As the head of the murder division, he also spent a lot of time working unsolved cases, plowing through a backlog with the energy of a bull on Red Bull. Of course, in his downtime, he parented and spent time with Riley. Giving a hundred percent in every area of his life didn't leave much left over for having a bee in his bonnet about Tomas.

  Tomas was glad to be, for the most part, ignored. He'd never particularly liked Justin. Justin seemed like the sort of hardcore know-it-all jock type who'd gotten all the best chances, always thought they knew best, and had an arrogance nothing could touch. They didn't live the same lives as other people; they could get away with being bullies and never pay the price because people would love them anyway. To be fair to him, he wasn't as bad as Tomas had first guessed, but he would always have a strong personality, which was the nicest way of putting it, Tomas thought.

  Even that he didn't like, because calling Justin's a strong personality implied that his own was, in contrast, weak: because he wasn't loud and hard-driving, because he preferred a quiet night in to boisterous activity and constant movement, conflict, or challenges to pit himself against.

  "You sure you're okay? Did you eat enough?" Riley tilted his head slightly, a concerned look on his big mug. Riley was always worrying about Tomas eating enough. He did eat lightly when he was on the job, because if he had to run, he'd be sick to his stomach after a big meal. It was how he was made. But just because he didn't have the appetite of a wolf (and the strong stomach) didn't mean he was in danger of fading away.

  He mustered a smile for his partner and nodded. "You know me."

  "I do know you," Riley said judgingly, but he settled back down into his seat, content with that answer. Although he was more confident than he used to be, he still seemed happier and more at ease when Tomas was nearby.

  Tomas was Riley's protector, safeguard, and sense of security in the world of the workplace. He rather liked that. It gave him a settled feeling to know he was needed, wanted, and useful to someone — even necessary. Sometimes he looked at Riley and felt suffused with a deep, warm well of fondness. This strong, sweet wolf who loved unconditionally needed Tomas to feel safe — counted on him, trusted him, would do anything for him.