Hank wasn’t sure exactly how ashamed he should be feeling at the moment.

On the one hand, he should probably be feeling pretty damn pissed at himself. He’d just had sex in an office, of all places, with the guy who was basically his enemy, who’d done nothing but yell at him.

On the other hand … he had enjoyed talking with Eric at the bar, the way Eric had been so interested and amused by Hank’s stories of culinary school, and he really, really liked kissing Eric and touching him everywhere he could.

It was just random sex between two consenting adults, right? It didn’t have to actually mean anything. They could start over, as Eric had put it, and discuss this whole trailer park issue calmly and sensibly. They didn’t have to let the, uh, tryst or whatever it was they’d just had affect it.

Right?

If only the first guy he’d met who drove him crazy like this wasn’t a) the guy he was supposed to be fighting for the trailer park, and b) acting like a goddamn dick about it. So it was his job, so what?

Doing the right thing, family, surely those were more important than a job. And Eric wasn’t stupid; he had to know what his company was doing and how it was behaving. What his bosses were getting their employees to do.

But now Hank was starting to understand what Luke was talking about, that buzzing, electric kind of feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d felt it when he first met Eric, and he felt it even as they were arguing … and it was fucking terrifying.

He’d never been this attracted to a person before, and in a way it was reassuring. It told him that no, other people weren’t exaggerating. This was something that actually happened.

But mostly it just frustrated and scared him. He didn’t like that another person had this much control over him, especially not someone who was going after his family.

Why the hell did he have to finally understand that crazy, have-to-put-my-hands-on-you feeling with Eric? Why couldn’t it have been someone like, he didn’t know … some random patron, a new bartender, someone, anyone other than the guy who was trying to buy the trailer park?

Hank half expected the other people in the office to somehow know what he and Eric had just done, but only some of them were back from lunch, and they all seemed absorbed in their work. There were no sly glances, no embarrassed, wide-eyed looks, no disapproving glares.

Looked like they’d gotten away with it, then. Thank heaven for that small favor.

Once they were outside, Hank felt even more ridiculous. It was like the office was this weird, temporarily liminal space where nothing else quite existed. Now that he was out in the fresh air and sunshine, where everyone was going about their business, he felt like a total idiot.

He’d just had sex in an office with the guy he was debating with over his family’s home. What had he been thinking? What if someone had walked in and seen them? This was probably some kind of huge conflict of interest.

God help him if Aunt Laura ever found out.

Eric seemed a little uncomfortable as well, although he was trying to hide it. Hank felt this odd … twist in his chest … a desire to reassure Eric a little. Hank certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone about what they’d done. They’d been stupid, but they were going to try and move forward now.

There wasn’t any reason for Eric to worry.

Of course, why the hell he wanted to comfort Eric … that was another story entirely, and one that Hank was putting down to his sense of common human decency and nothing more.

People got attached after sex, that was all. After he’d made out with Luke in high school, he’d thought he was in love. The first guy he had sex with in college he was convinced he was going to marry.

It was just how the whole rush of endorphins worked, some ancient survival instinct that convinced you that the person you’d had sex with was now your mate — something about being there to protect any potential babies, right? That was all it was.

Residual endorphins or whatever. Nothing else.

Hank automatically held the door open for Eric as they entered the diner, and then cursed himself for it. He needed to cut that shit out. They were two men working out a solution to a problem like sensible adults, nothing more.

Eric got them a spot in the back, probably just in case they started arguing again.

“The sandwiches here are great,” he said, like they were just friends grabbing lunch together or something.

Hank tried not to roll his eyes. The guy was trying to make an effort to be nice. Hank supposed that he could at least reciprocate.

They looked at their menus in awkward silence for a moment. Hank had to resist the urge to laugh a little at how ridiculous this whole thing was.

“So, your brilliant plan,” Eric said after a moment, “is to sue the company for harassment?” He sounded a little incredulous, like he wasn’t sure that Hank had actually suggested that. But not … overtly hostile.

“It was what Adam suggested as my best bet,” Hank replied. “He said that the company probably wouldn’t want to deal with the publicity a lawsuit would bring, or the precedent that it would set, so they’d settle for leaving us alone.”

“That would work,” Eric conceded, “if your family hadn’t been causing so many problems of their own.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of how childish they’ve been,” Hank said, unable to keep the bitterness completely out of his voice.

Eric gave him an odd look. “You don’t seem to really … support their methods.”

“No, I’m an adult. I don’t support spray-painting cars or putting rotten eggs in the tailpipe or punching a guy to solve a problem,” Hank replied. “Especially when the guys who are coming are just representatives of a larger company. You know the company’s just going to send more; it’s not like they’re going to throw their hands up in despair and just walk away.”

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything before now? If you guys had kept your heads down, you’d have a case, but now if you try to sue, the company will just countersue you. It’ll be a huge battle, and I guarantee you, we have more money and resources than you do.”

Hank could feel his shoulders slumping and the frustration creeping into him again, like there was a drawstring connected to the spot between his shoulder blades and someone had just started tugging on it. “Trust me, I know. But it was the best shot that we had, or so Adam said.”

“I’m not saying he’s wrong; I’m just saying what might happen,” Eric replied.

“If I’d said anything to them before, they wouldn’t have listened to me anyway,” Hank went on. “I haven’t exactly been involved in this entire thing; I don’t even live in the park.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Eric asked, laughing a little. When he saw that Hank was serious, he sobered up. “I’m sorry. It’s just, in the files, my previous coworkers stated that the Caskills were a really tight-knit group. And you seem to care so much about this, I guess I just assumed…”

Hank shook his head. “I’ve always kind of been … different. I wanted to go to culinary school, I wanted to live in the city — living off the park, but in my hometown, was my compromise on that — and I never really understood their connection to a place like that. I mean, I understand why my family cares about it, but I don’t.”

“Then why are you fighting so hard for this?” Eric seemed to be genuinely confused and trying to understand.

“What,” Hank said, snapping a little, because he was feeling exposed and it irritated him. “Like you’ve never done anything you didn’t care about one way or another, just because it was what someone in your family wanted? It’s how family works.”

An odd sort of shadow passed across Eric’s face and he sat back in his seat. “No, you’re right. I guess I just misunderstood.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to snap,” Hank said. An apology was probably in order. But then he just couldn’t stop himself from talking, the words tumbling out of him. “It’s just a lot of pressure on me to take care of this. My family’s never trusted me with anything like this before.”

Eric looked … taken aback, his eyebrows shooting up and his eyes going a bit wide, but also sympathetic. It was stupidly attractive, what with his hair still a little mussed from the sex and his shirt a little bit wrinkled.

“I’m guessing there’s some kind of story behind this,” he said slowly.

Hank shrugged, dodging Eric’s gaze and scanning the diner instead. Where was a waitress or something, to come up and save him from this awkwardness?

Eric didn’t say anything, he just sat there, and … it was so stupid, but Eric was the first person Hank had really spoken to who wasn’t from his hometown and didn’t already know the story of his family. Everyone knew everyone growing up, and so everybody knew his family story before he did, had known him since he was born, and his family from before that.

But Eric didn’t know them — well, he did, but it was different. And Hank was still stupidly attracted to him, dammit, and what did he have to lose by giving Eric the lay of the land? It wasn’t like Eric could find a way to use it against him.

Hank looked back over. “So…”

And of course that was the moment that the waitress came up.

After they placed their order, Hank was ready to take it as a sign from the universe that he shouldn’t keep talking about it, but Eric turned to him with an expectant look on his face. Hank was a little worried what it meant for him that he couldn’t quite make himself say no to that expression.

“My family’s lived in that trailer park since it was invented. They actually helped to create it. It’s about … five or six generations, I think, that’ve lived there in total?

“I grew up there, and I don’t know what was different for me, but I didn’t want to, uh … I felt kind of ashamed. I’m not ashamed anymore, but at the time I just wanted to live in a big regular house like my friends.

“My friends thought it was cool, actually, that I lived with all this wide-open space and this huge family, and in a house that could move places if we wanted it to. You know how it is with kids, always wanting what the other guy has.”

Eric had a look on his face that said he knew what that felt like.

“Anyway.” Hank cleared his throat. “Not sure why I’m telling you this.”

Eric shrugged. “It’s relevant, isn’t it? I mean, I just want to understand. If you don’t care about it, why are you putting yourself on the line for it? Do you owe your family that much?”

Hank sighed. “They’ve never really accepted that I wanted to live a different life. And it’s kind of led to some distance the past few years.”

“Why do I get the feeling it’s on their part and not yours?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “You ask them, it’s entirely on my part. I don’t go to family dinners, that sort of thing.”

“And yet here you are, going toe to toe with me so that they can keep their … park.”

“You were holding back the word ‘ridiculous’ or something before the word park there.”

“Yup, I’m trying to exercise some self-restraint; is it working?” Eric smiled at him, and Hank was glad he was sitting down, because otherwise that smile would’ve definitely knocked him for six.

“They asked for my help with this,” Hank admitted. “And this is the first time they’ve asked for my help or trusted me with anything, pretty much since I officially decided I was going to go to culinary school and live away from them.”

Eric was silent at that for a long moment. Hank started to think that maybe this was the end of the conversation. Eric’s eyes got soft, though, and he said, without looking at Hank, “Yeah, my dad … it was similar.”

“Was?”

“He died, a year ago.”

Hank could see the fresh pain still there in Eric’s eyes. Hank had never lost anyone close to him. His dad wasn’t around to begin with, and none of his other relatives or friends had died. He wasn’t sure what to say — hadn’t been sure what to say when Luke’s parents had died, either, so as with Luke, he just sort of stayed silent and listened.

“He was a tough bastard,” Eric said, huffing out a laugh. He shook his head. “All he ever cared about was business. Being successful. He was the one who taught me that you don’t quit, that you don’t ever back down. He made it clear that his affection for me was tied to how well I did in my professional life, you know? And that professional life better be somewhere with upward mobility, and a suit and tie. None of this bohemian shit for his son.”

“Sounds pretty tough.” It also sounded like the polar opposite of what Hank had had in regards to a father, but oddly similar when it came to family in general — the idea that there were certain standards to be met, rules that you had to follow, and to do otherwise was to be a failure.

“It could be,” Eric acknowledged. “But you know, I still want to make him proud, even though he pissed me off a lot. Even if I didn’t always agree with him.”

Hank nodded. “That’s it.” Exactly.

“I guess you see why we’re at such an impasse,” Eric said. “We’ve both got some family shit to uphold, don’t we?”

“You don’t owe it to your dad to keep pressing at a no-win scenario,” Hank told him.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same thing to you. Neither of us is going to win this thing. We’re stuck.

“Your family’s not going to back down, and I can’t back down — and before you ask, no, not just because I’m honoring my dad or anything, but because my promotion and maybe my job as well are on the line. I’ve been working for months for this promotion. It’ll finally give me a chance to stop doing this sales and field agent work that I hate, and take some decent hours, get some rest.”

Hank sank back into the booth. It really was a no-win situation then. He didn’t want to be the reason that Eric failed to get his promotion, or potentially got demoted. But he knew his family wouldn’t back down, and he wasn’t all that sure that they should.

“You know that my family’s right to be upset, though. This is their home. And I know it’s just a place, and that home is people and family and all of that, but places have meanings.

“This place really works for them. Not for me, but … I can’t argue that they’re all super happy there. Some of them, I think, would be okay with moving, but not my aunt, and my grandfather definitely not, and he’s not got a whole lot of years left anyway…” Hank shook his head. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“It’s okay.” Eric sighed. “My mom would tell me to just give up and tell my bosses to back off, but she was one of those people who lived on a hippie commune for years and made sculptures out of scrap metal. I’m still not sure how she and my dad ended up meeting and marrying, actually, but they always made it work.”

Hank felt a small bit of envy, the way he always did when he heard about people who grew up with happily married parents. Not that he’d missed out on anything by not having a dad, but he knew that it hurt for his mom to not have that happiness that he saw and heard about other married couples having.

“I’m glad that they did,” he said, and he meant it.

Eric gave a small smile. “Yeah, me too.” He paused, thinking. “Look, I’m not asking you to roll over and take it, you know? And not like that, don’t give me that look, asshole, I just meant — I’m not telling you this sob story so that you convince your family to sell their land or anything. I’m just letting you know that I get it. It’s hard.”

“Do you want this success?” Hank asked, partially because he was curious and partially because he cared — but he didn’t realize he cared until he said the words out loud. Talking to Eric was easy, easier than talking to anyone else, and it just felt right to be discussing these serious things with him.

Eric thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’m a bit of a perfectionist, yeah, and I got that from my dad, definitely. I want to be successful and make him proud.”

“But do you want it because you want it for yourself, or because you want it for him?” Hank asked.

“You said that moving back to your hometown, even if it wasn’t into the trailer park, was a compromise,” Eric reminded him. “Was that what you wanted for yourself? Maybe not completely. Was it what your family wanted? Maybe not completely that, either. But you do it because it’s the closest the both of you will come to getting what you want.”

“And this is your compromise, being successful at your job and getting a promotion, where you won’t have to do the parts of the job that you hate anymore.” Hank could understand that. It would be worth it to suffer through the unpleasantness of this entire ordeal if it meant he got the trust and support of his family.

If Eric thought that getting this promotion would be enough to make himself and his dad happy — if he had still been alive — then Hank could understand why it was something that Eric was so determined about, and so unwilling to give up on.

Eric nodded. “I’m good with people, so I’ve been kind of stuck in this position for a long time. I don’t know how to make it clear to them that I want to be good with people as in being the leader of a team or a division, not convincing strangers to do something. It makes you callous, this job.”

“You do a pretty good job of that,” Hank admitted before he could stop himself. “Sounding callous.”

“I don’t try to,” Eric replied. “You do a good job of sounding annoyingly morally righteous.”

“I don’t try to,” Hank replied, throwing Eric’s words back at him.

Eric smiled, then leaned back as their food arrived. Hank hadn’t even realized that they’d been so close to one another, leaning into each other’s space. “So what do you propose that we do?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know; you’re the company expert here.”

Eric sighed. “I don’t know. Your land — the park’s land — is so appealing to the company because it’s basically undeveloped. A trailer park doesn’t require permanent buildings, or setting up foundations, or anything like that. So once we carted the trailers off the premises, it would be like starting with fresh land. The company wouldn’t have to waste time tearing anything down.

“That’s a huge asset for them, all of this undeveloped land just sitting there. And your area is still growing and booming, and probably will for the next few years before the bubble bursts.

“They’re not going to let this go easily. Not unless there is something definitive, in law, in writing, that will tell them to back off and that it’s useless to keep pursuing this. You could try talking to your local city council and get them to pass a law of some kind that says the trailer park is off limits? Name it a historical site or something?”

“Yeah, a trailer park as a historical site, people will really go for that.”

“I’m just throwing suggestions out here,” Eric said.

“You could persuade them to back down, couldn’t you?” Hank asked. “You’re the company rep, and you’re in good standing if they’re giving you this problem project and setting you up for a promotion.”

“They could be setting me up to fail.”

Hank shook his head. “I remember in culinary school, I had this one teacher who told us that if you’re giving an employee a problem project, and he’s been failing, you’re giving it to him as an excuse to throw him out. But if you give him a problem project and he’s been doing really well in the job, it’s a way for you to show that you trust him, and confirm that he’s the right man to get a promotion or something. So if there’s a complicated banquet or a cake order or something, that problem project can look really different depending upon who you decide to give it to.

“If they were setting you up to fail, you’d know it, because you’d have been failing them already, struggling with clients and stuff like that. This would be an excuse to send you packing, or a last-ditch chance for you to redeem yourself. But you’re in line for a promotion.

This is them seeing you as a problem solver, a way for them to get this problem off their hands. It shows that they trust you. So if you told them that there was a reason they had to permanently back off, they’d listen to you, right?”

Eric thought about that for a moment. “Theoretically,” he said slowly. “But I can’t risk my job like that by lying. If it were true, then there’d be nothing I could do about it, and I’m not going to keep flinging myself against a door that just won’t open.

“But I couldn’t just lie to my superiors like that. What if they found out or something? My entire career would be put on the line because of that.”

Hank had to concede that was a fair point. He personally thought that Eric could get away with lying. He had a feeling that Eric was the kind of guy who had a stellar record — and he’d seen the little trophies and certificates in Eric’s office on the wall behind the desk. His bosses would believe him if he told them there was some law or sanction that prevented them from going ahead with purchasing the land.

But he didn’t push, not at the moment. They were still on shaky ground, and he didn’t want to risk ruining this fragile truce that they’d established. Especially not when he was still trying to deal with the fact that he was so attracted to this guy that he’d thrown all common sense and propriety out the window and fucked him in his office.

God, that had been the best sex of his life, though. Eric had been feisty but eager, just a little rough, demanding and also giving.

If Hank had been a younger man, he’d be ready to go right then. But he wasn’t a younger man, and also they were in a goddamn diner, for fuck’s sake.

Usually his libido was a hell of a lot easier to control. But then again, never before had he been so drawn to someone, even though he knew that he shouldn’t be.

“So right now,” Hank said, “the plan is for me to stop by my city hall and get an appointment, see what can be done on their end of things to keep the company from legally being able to buy the land.”

“That’s about the only thing I can think of,” Eric admitted. “Again, you’d have good grounds with the harassment suit, if your family hadn’t been dishing it right back at them.”

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwing up. “I fucking told them not to do all that shit. Half the time I didn’t even hear about it until later, and then I’d have to spend forever panicking that we were going to get hauled to court.”

“We could make a subject change, if you want,” Eric said.

“Seen any good movies lately?” Hank joked.

Eric rolled his eyes. “No, actually; late-night television that I fall asleep to is kind of the way things go nowadays.”

He was saying it dryly, with the same kind of humor that Adam used, but Hank felt unexpectedly sad for him. “No hanging out, no movies, no parties or anything?”

Eric shrugged. “I’ve got too much work on my plate. I have to stay ahead of the game, and I’m usually taking on extra work or something to prove myself, show how dedicated I am. If I want to be at an executive-level position and get this promotion as fast as I am, I have to do the same amount of work in half the time, you know what I mean?”

“Well, when’s the last time you went out with friends, even if it was just for a drink?”

Eric shook his head. “You’re going to be all sympathetic and pity me.”

“I’ll mock you instead; how’s that sound?” Eric snorted with laughter, and Hank couldn’t help but grin in response, glad to have gotten a positive reaction out of him.

“The last time was a few months ago, and that was just to a party, where I said hi for like half an hour and then ducked out again. Unless you’re counting when I stopped by the bar and ended up meeting you.”

“Of course I’m counting that; I actually saw you talking to people, which was apparently a minor miracle,” Hank said. “Honestly, how can you be that absorbed in your work?”

“It’s not that I’m — it’s just a phase. As soon as I get that promotion, I can relax.”

“And I bet that’s what you told yourself before you landed the position you’re in now,” Hank said.

“Like you don’t have your own goals that you’ve pushed yourself towards. You’re in charge of the food at the most popular place in town, and I know Adam; even if Luke would’ve given you the job just because you’re friends, Adam never would’ve let Luke do that. Adam knows how to be ruthless.

“So you got that job by being good at it, and you don’t get an impressive enough resume and enough experience and skills to impress Adam in so short of a time without working your ass off and pulling a few all-nighters.”

Hank shook his head. “Maybe so, but I made friends. And now I make a point to do poker nights with some of the guys; we play football on the weekends, we hang out. Our kitchen closes before the bar, so when I’m finished cleaning I come out and I spend some time with everyone.

“I make sure that I’m getting in that fun stuff. I take days off. When was the last time that you had a day off? And weekends don’t count; I have a feeling you work at home on those days.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “So what if I bring work home?”

“You never get a chance to relax, that’s what,” Hank said. “There’s a bowling night in a couple of days; you should join us. It’s sort of a double bachelor party for Luke and Adam; I’m sure Adam would invite you if he thought you’d come. We’re keeping it low-key, and neither Luke nor Adam seems the kind of guy to want strippers.”

Eric laughed. “Yeah, I think Adam’s eyes would roll so hard they’d fall out of his head.”

“You should come,” Hank said. He wasn’t even all that sure why he was insisting so much, why he felt so strongly that Eric should be there. He had no right to feel so protective over the guy.

This … eager to get Eric out and about, to make sure that Eric was being … what, taken care of? Taking care of himself? Making sure that Eric had what he needed, not just physically but emotionally, friend-wise, taking the breaks and having the social life that he needed?

“I can try,” Eric said.

“I know you can make it,” Hank replied. “Your big project is mine, right? The park? So if I tell you that you won’t have anything to worry about with that, you’ll come, yeah? I mean, you’re just waiting to hear from me about the law thing; you can tell your bosses that you’re in negotiations, that’s technically true.”

“Technically, I suppose,” Eric said, his mouth twisting up as he tried not to smile. It was kind of cute, actually.

And Hank really needed to get a grip on his damn dick, or feelings, or whatever it was that was making him think all of these things like how cute Eric was. Hank didn’t have thoughts like that.

But then, he wasn’t that guy who felt so out of his mind with arousal that he fucked a guy in his office, either … and yet, there they were.

“You should come,” he repeated, wincing internally at the unintentional pun.

Eric seemed content to let it slide. “I’ll think about it.”

Hank nodded, accepting that that was as good of an answer as he was going to get, and tried not to freak out internally at how warm he felt at the idea of Eric actually coming to the bowling night.

Christ, what was wrong with him?