Eric wasn’t exactly looking forward to this trip. He never was. Talking to people about the possibility of a development deal and offering it up to them didn’t usually go well. Or at least, by the time Eric was sent in, it wasn’t going well.

But he knew that he was a charmer, always had been. He was good with people, and liked to think that he had a knack for figuring out what made them tick. Oh, so that one guy has a bunch of daughters that he’s proud of? Point out how this deal would help him have the funds to send them to college.

This woman worried about the changing neighborhood? Assure her that with the development around, the value of the neighborhood would actually be skyrocketing.

He could get people to like him and listen to him, and that was why the company kept sending him out. Eric looked forward to the day when he wouldn’t have to do that. When he could focus on the things that were happening inside of the office, instead of going out to try and convince people to sell their businesses and homes.

Because while he was good at convincing people — eventually — the actual initial reaction that people had to him was usually … unfortunate.

He pulled into the Sunny Acres Trailer Park. He could see why the company wanted it. Great land, right next to a forested area, it would be perfect for building some new homes, maybe a gated community of some kind, with a little park in the middle or whatnot.

The trailers themselves, though. Talk about an eyesore.

Some of the trailers looked well-kept, but they were all obviously quite old. There were the remnants of a community garden and a play area, but weeds had overtaken the first, and the remains of the second looked like a serious health hazard.

Even if the developers weren’t interested in this place, who the hell would want to stay in a place like this? At the very least buy some new trailers or something, Eric thought.

There wasn’t even a gate or anything to surround the area, nothing but the old sign announcing the names of the families living there. Honestly. If this had been a well-kept place, then Eric would have been a bit more sympathetic, but this was seriously an eyesore.

He got out of the car and walked up to the nearest trailer, knocking on the door. He didn’t see any kind of manager’s office or anything. Pretty sure that was against some kind of regulation, or something.

The door was opened by an older woman, gray streaks in her hair but still mostly blond, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes?”

Eric smiled at her. “Hi, so sorry to bother you. I’m looking for the manager of this place?”

The woman, to Eric’s surprise, laughed. “Yeah, I can get him for you.”

She pushed past Eric and started to lead him towards one of the less well-kept trailers. “What’s a fancy suit like you doing in this area, huh?”

Eric cleared his throat. “I was hoping to talk to the person in charge and see who the names of the owners of the trailers were, so that I could speak to them about—”

“Oh, no you don’t.” The woman turned, folding her arms. Eric nearly ran into her. “I should’ve known, with your fancy suit and that car. You’re from the damn developers again, aren’t you.”

The words were phrased like a question, but the tone was flat, a statement.

Eric figured he might as well be honest. He had to tell them who he was eventually anyway, and any deception would just piss them off later.

“Yes, I am. I believe you’ve had dealings with my employers before.”

“Dealings, that’s a good way of putting it,” the woman replied. She gave him a sardonic smile. “So, what, you here to bully us, or offer us more money?”

“I would never presume to do anything without first hearing your side of the story,” Eric said, trying to soothe.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t you try and placate me. I know how you all operate. You think that you can just come out and be buddies with us, but I know what you’re really up to.

“And so do the rest of us. You can offer us whatever you want, but you’re not getting us kicked out of here, all right? This is our home, and we’re staying here.”

Eric bit his tongue, hard, to keep from saying what he wanted to — which was, what kind of home was this? A home where everyone was living in this rundown place, out on the fringes of nowhere, in what was the equivalent of massive rusting tin cans probably stuffed with God knew how much junk?

Yeah, real sophisticated, a real home to be proud of, he thought sarcastically. People like this were why the term “white trash” was invented.

But saying something like that was unnecessarily rude, and would only start a fight. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. He could find a way through this without resorting to yelling and taunts — which had probably been how his previous coworkers had ended up handling the situation.

Assuming that you knew best was the number one mistake his colleagues made when handling these people. It was better to pretend that you didn’t know much of anything, let them get all of their woes out, and then tentatively make some suggestions based on what they had told you, as a way to help them think of this idea in a positive light.

Eric swallowed down the things he wanted to say and smiled instead. “I’m not trying to placate you. That suggests that I find you unintelligent. And I’ve found it’s never good to underestimate someone’s intelligence that way.

“Look, I’ve just been assigned to this case. I’d like to hear about things from you — and the manager of course — instead of just going by whatever’s been put in the paperwork my company gave me. I’d like to know your side of things.”

The woman just laughed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Eric held in his snort of frustration. “Why don’t you tell me your name, Miss…?”

“Laura Caskill,” the woman said. She arched an eyebrow at him. “You’ve heard about us, I’m sure. There’s probably quite a few stories your colleagues have told you.” She grinned. “The one about me breaking that one guy’s nose? It’s true.”

Ah, yes; Eric had heard about that one, or rather, had read about it in the paperwork Jonas had given him. He did not intend to get his nose, or anything else, broken as well.

“I’m not here to start any fights, Mrs. Caskill,” Eric began, but she cut him off.

“That’s too bad, because you’re in one,” she said. “You got the short stick here, buddy. We’re not talking to you. You can tell your bosses that we’re saying the same thing to you that we’ve said before: we’re not selling, and we don’t intend to sell, and there’s nothing you can do to change our minds about that.”

“Mrs. C—”

“This isn’t about money,” Laura said, interrupting him yet again. “You can offer us as much as you want, and it’s not going to change anything. We’re staying put.”

Eric had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Well, if you would just give me a moment—”

“Why?” Laura asked.

By now, Eric could see that others were peering out of their trailers and taking note. The trailer that Laura had been heading towards, one of the more rundown ones, now had a much older man standing just behind the screen door.

Eric could see the family resemblance between the older man and Laura. They had the same nose, the same wide-set eyes. He must be an older member of the Caskill family. Perhaps, Eric thought, even the patriarch, old man Henry Caskill.

According to the paperwork, Henry Caskill was the one who’d been rallying all the others and kept it impossible for the company to get the land. He was the father, grandfather, and in some cases great-grandfather, of the majority of the Caskill clan. Again, according to the paperwork.

Eric’s coworkers, who’d previously worked on the case, had quite a lot of blunt and … not-so-charming things to say about Henry.

Eric smiled and waved at him, trying not to make his face look too forced. People tended to spot a false smile a mile away, because people would force the smile too far. The key was to keep it relaxed and subtle.

Henry Caskill didn’t look like he was buying it. In fact, he flipped Eric off and slammed the door shut.

As if that was a cue, all the people who’d been watching from their trailers vanished, closing doors or pulling the curtains.

Laura Caskill just smiled smugly at him. “You got anything to say, we don’t want to hear it. Not unless it’s to tell us you’re backing off. You hear me, suit?”

Eric swallowed the insult he wanted to throw at her and just nodded. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”

He’d be back, of course, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. That would only give them time to prepare.

Instead he just smiled at her and inclined his head, then went back to his car.

Okay. Okay, so he’d basically just been stonewalled. Fine. He’d figure out a way around it, right?

Right.

He started the car and turned around, planning on heading back to the city. But God, he needed a drink after that. He hadn’t realized until he’d actually gone out there how difficult it was going to be to get this thing handled. Now he was kind of worried.

If he didn’t pull this off, despite his perfect record up until now, he wouldn’t get the promotion. It sucked, but it was how these bastards operated. He knew of plenty of coworkers who had spotless records, but messed up on a big deal once and they were kicked to the curb or demoted or something.

Eric wasn’t sure he’d be fired or anything. But his promotion definitely rode on this.

And now he was being stonewalled.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. If those damn men the company had sent before him had done their jobs properly, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. But those idiots had messed things up so badly with the Caskills that now they were digging their heels in, and it would take a hell of a lot to get them to budge.

Eric sighed. He’d just … go home, have a drink, go over the previous agents’ reports, and see if there was anything that he’d missed. He could put in a request to look into the history of the trailer park, see if maybe there were some rules the Caskills were violating.

There had to be some way to convince them to leave. Nobody was that attached to a place, especially a rundown place like that. It was sheer pride keeping them there, had to be.

As he turned onto another street, he spied a bar over on the right. Joe’s, the sign said.

He’d heard about this place — wasn’t it the bar that Adam’s fiancé owned?

Maybe Adam was there, and Eric could say hello. Either way, he could nurse a beer before going home. It might be nice to meet some people, chat someone up, maybe even find someone to take home for the night. Anything to get his mind temporarily off the looming issue he saw before him.

He parked and entered the bar, which was pretty bustling. He could have sat in one of the booths, but he was just one person. No sense in taking up a space meant for multiple people.

Eric made his way to the bar instead, squeezing into a seat between a huge burly-looking guy and an older woman who was arguing about something with the older man on the other side of her.

He caught the bartender’s eye and the guy came over. He was pretty handsome, with dark blond hair and eyes that couldn’t seem to decide what color they were. “Hey, I’m Luke; what can I get you?”

“Luke?” Eric grinned, holding out his hand. “Hey, I’m Eric; I think you’re Adam’s fiancé, right? I work in the same building as him, we grab lunch sometimes.”

Luke shook his hand. “Hey, glad to finally meet you! I’ve heard good things.” He turned towards the guy on Eric’s right. “Travis, move over. Adam, your work friend is here.”

Eric realized that the guy on his right, Travis, was a part of a larger group of guys that were all talking animatedly to and over one another. Travis moved to the side, closer to a much smaller, kind of pretty looking guy, giving Adam room to scoot over and sit next to Eric.

“Hey.” Adam graced Eric with a small smile. Adam wasn’t exactly the grinning type. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“You drive out here every day,” Eric pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a very compelling reason.” Adam looked over at Luke, who winked and went back to serving customers.

“Are these all your friends?” Eric asked, trying to distract from his own reasons for being there. The last thing he wanted to talk about was work.

If he had to talk about work, he was just going to end up complaining bitterly about the whole deal, and he didn’t want to be a downer. Adam was obviously having a good time with his friends. Eric didn’t want to spoil that by turning this into a therapy session.

“Yeah.” Adam turned and waved at the others. “This is Travis, and that’s Lance.”

The small guy that Travis had his arm draped over—obviously the boyfriend. Then Adam pointed at a dark-haired guy with smudges of black on his hands, grease maybe, sitting next to another guy who was grumbling something in a Southern accent.

“That’s Jake and Matthew. And that’s Davis.” Adam indicated the skinnier-looking guy who was leaning over the bar top to say something to the other bartender. “He’s talking to Paul.”

Paul, the bartender, paused to wave to Eric. “Nice to meet you. Can I get you anything?”

Eric ordered, then indicated the other guys. “These are all Luke’s friends from high school, right?”

Adam nodded. “Most of them, anyway. Matthew moved here from the south, and Paul arrived just about … what, six months ago, Paul?”

“Something like that,” Paul replied.

Eric wondered if he could get information on the trailer park without any of them becoming suspicious. “This must be weird for you all, then. All the development that’s going on recently.”

Adam was a lawyer, and a good one. He knew when someone was angling for something. He gave Eric a sharp, assessing look.

“It’s been odd,” Lance acknowledged.

Another guy, build pretty solid like Travis, came up and clapped Travis on the shoulder. Eric eyed him up and down. The guy was attractive, all right. Maybe Eric could…

“You want a rematch?” the guy asked.

“You mean you want to get your ass kicked again?” Travis replied, getting off his barstool. “Anytime, Payton.”

“Don’t break anything!” Lance yelled after them as the two men headed upstairs. A sign said that was the way to the pool hall, so Eric figured they were going to play a game.

He could go upstairs and watch them play, maybe make a few comments, see if Payton was receptive…

Adam followed Eric’s line of sight and shook his head. “Don’t even try,” he said.

“Straight?”

“Gay, but more trouble than he’s worth,” Adam said. “Payton and Travis hold the record for worst tempers around here.”

“Travis has gotten better,” Lance said loyally.

“Not saying he hasn’t,” Adam replied. “Look, just — I know you, you’re a stubborn guy. Find someone who’s not likely to bite your head off for saying the wrong thing, or you’ll be in the middle of a bar fight before you know it.”

“You’re no fun,” Eric teased.

“So I’ve been told,” Adam said dryly.

A man emerged from the back door that led into the kitchen, and Eric’s eyes immediately focused on him.

He was tall, a little stockier than Eric, with blond hair that stuck up every which way and brown eyes that looked deep and thoughtful. He had that five o’clock shadow thing going on that always made Eric a little weak in the knees.

The guy called for Luke, who walked over immediately and bent his head down so that the guy could talk to him quietly. Luke nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and then the man disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Who’s that?” Eric whispered to Adam, indicating the door the guy had just disappeared into.

“Hank, our head cook,” Adam said.

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna tell me he has anger issues too.”

Adam shook his head. “Nope. He’s not really interested in dating, though, far as I know.”

“Well, good; neither am I.” Eric wondered how he could manage to chat the guy up while he was working in the kitchen.

“I am not enabling this,” Adam said, reading Eric’s expression. “You can figure out how to talk to him on your own.”

“Gee, you’re a great wingman,” Eric replied, but he wasn’t really upset. The kitchen closed an hour before the bar did; it said so on one of the signs behind the bar. Hank would have to stop by to see his friends before leaving, right?

In the meantime, though, he could try and find out what he could about the Caskills.

“Business is booming,” he noted, looking around the crowded bar. “Has it always been like this?”

Adam shook his head. “No, it was pretty much just Luke’s high school friends and some older regulars when I first met him. He got a couple of investors and revamped the place, and it’s been hopping since then.

“It helps with all the development around here; people are moving in since it’s cheaper than living in Chicago. It’s worth the drive, to them. Now that we’ve got all these new people moving into the neighborhood, we have more customers.”

“Yeah, I hear this place was pretty sleepy back in the day.”

“It was a small town, but that definition can vary,” Adam said. “Most people from the city hear ‘small town’ — including me — and they think of this one-horse sort of place. But they’re picturing a place that’s actually smaller than most ‘small towns’.

“If you drove through here when Luke was growing up, it’d probably be bigger than you’d think. It’s that we underestimate how many people we know in our lives. You think you only know a few people, and that 500 people is a lot, right? But put yourself in a town of 5,000 people, and suddenly you realize how small that can be.”

Eric nodded. That made sense. “I’m surprised I don’t know of any stories of old grudges and things like that.”

“People around here are stubborn, I’ll give them that,” Adam replied. “They hold onto grudges forever. Luke’s old high school principal still gives him the death glare when he sees Luke at the grocery store.”

Eric laughed. Adam had that lawyer gleam in his eye still, though, the one that told Eric that Adam suspected something was up.

“Why are you asking?” Adam asked. “You’re not the type to just make small talk about something like this. You’re more of a ‘let’s talk about the latest television show episode’ kind of guy.”

“I have a job around here,” Eric said, figuring he could be partially honest. “And the people are being stubborn, so I’m trying to get the lay of the land. See if there’s a way that I could persuade them to sell.”

“I thought you were done with that kind of thing,” Adam said.

“I’d like to be, but my promotion pretty much rides on this. That’s what Jonas implied, anyway.”

“I’m not liking the sound of that,” Adam said. “You’ve told me about all the work you’ve done for them, and this project is what decides your promotion?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was fair,” Eric replied. “I just said it’s how it is.”

“No wonder you’re pent up,” Adam replied with a smirk.

Eric casually flipped him off.

“I’d order the bacon burger, by the way,” Adam added. “Since you’re here.”

That actually sounded like a good idea. Eric couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He knew that staying here was an indulgence. He needed to get back home and go over the paperwork again to see what he could find, not eat a burger and drink a beer and chat with his semi-friend’s fiancé’s friends.

But he’d been working himself into the ground lately, dammit, he didn’t want to be like Jonas.

Didn’t stop that voice in his head, the one that sounded an awful lot like Dad’s, to whisper that he was being a failure by sticking around, that he needed to get home and do his work.

Eric shoved that voice away. He was allowed to eat a meal and relax for once in his goddamn life, right? Besides, who knew what information he might overhear?

That idea didn’t last long, though, because the entire group was apparently having a passionate discussion about football. It seemed Matthew supported a different team from the rest of the men — which led to a lot of “what team did you play for” jokes — and the discussion was pretty heated, but in a good-natured sort of way.

It had been a long time since Eric had just relaxed with a group of people. He tried to remember the last time that he’d hung out with people, other than grabbing lunch with Adam.

He came up blank.

In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d really done anything with friends, other than commented on photos on a social media site or something of the sort. He had turned down invitations to go to the bar or a club, movie nights, theatre, baseball games on the weekend … all for work.

The last thing he could think of was a birthday party for a friend about six months ago, and he’d only gone for half an hour, dropping off the present and saying hi to everyone quickly before heading back home to finish some paperwork for a report that Monday.

Wow. He had reached a new level of pathetic.

But on the other hand, he was about to be one of the youngest men to reach an executive-level position in the company’s history — if he could just pull off this damn deal and get the Caskills to sell.

“Lost in thought?” Adam asked.

Eric jolted. He hadn’t realized he’d lost the thread of conversation and had become so wrapped up in his internal monologue. “Yeah, something like that; sorry.”

“You’re good,” Matthew said. “I was just finishing trouncing Jake.”

“We don’t need to hear about that,” Adam said, deadpan.

Eric chuckled, as did the others.

“Wow,” Adam said. “Three months ago, none of you would’ve gotten that joke.”

“Your humor is an acquired taste,” Jake replied. “Like Vegemite.”

“What the hell is Vegemite?” Lance asked, and then they were all off again.

The hot guy from before emerged from the kitchen, this time without his apron on. “Luke, we’re all closed up.”

Eric’s bacon burger had actually been genuinely delicious. That was a good enough opening for him. “You the cook?”

The others didn’t even seem to notice; they were now arguing over the lyrics to the song Down Under by Men at Work. Except for Adam, who glanced at Eric but didn’t say anything.

The blond walked over, decidedly eyeing Eric up and down. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Hank.”

They shook hands. He was even better looking up close. It had been months since Eric had gotten laid, and either it was the frustration from earlier, or the hanging out this evening, but something in him was making him feel reckless. “I’m Eric. Just wanted to compliment you; that burger was amazing.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hank said, grinning. “I’d make an innuendo about you liking my meat or something, but nothing’s coming to mind.”

“I’m sure I can make up an appropriately bad joke in my head and pretend you said it,” Eric replied.

Hank glanced over at the spot that Travis had vacated a while ago in favor of pool. Nobody had taken the spot, either out of respect for Travis, or to possibly give Eric more breathing room, since he wasn’t one of their close pals and might not have been comfortable being squished up against strangers. Either way, it showed what a considerate group this was.

He envied Adam, a little, for being able to leave his work at the office and come home to this. It felt like all Eric did nowadays was work.

Well, right now he had something — someone — in front of him a hell of a lot more compelling than work.

“Take a seat,” he said, indicating Travis’s empty chair.

Hank shrugged and sat down, straddling the barstool and leaning with his elbow on the bar top. “I haven’t seen you around here before, but you’re with the guys.”

“The guys?” Eric asked.

Hank indicated Adam and the others. “I’ve known Jake, Lance, Travis and Luke since high school. Although I wasn’t super close with any of them until recently.”

“Ah, sorry.” Eric indicated Adam. “We work in the same building; I’ve heard a lot about this place and was in the area, so I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“I’m glad you did,” Hank said, giving him a once over. “You a lawyer too?”

“Nah,” Eric replied. Honestly, though, the last thing he wanted to talk about was work. For once — just for once — he wanted to think about anything except for that. “But you’re not talking to me because you’re interested in what I do nine to five, are you?”

Hank shrugged, as if to admit that Eric was right. “More interested in what you do five to nine.”

Eric laughed. “I’ll give you a point for originality, but that wasn’t the best line.”

“I could go with some classics, if you’d prefer,” Hank said. “There’s the usual, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven’ … ‘What’s your sign’ … ‘Do you come here often’…” He thought for a second. “Okay, here’s one. Want to reenact the Trojan War?”

Eric had a feeling he knew where this line was going, but he grinned and said, “What do you mean?”

“You get on all fours and I get inside you.”

Eric laughed. “I heard this one at a party in college: ‘Why don’t I sit in your lap and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up?’”

Hank snorted with laughter. “Okay, that’s a good one.”

“I take it you come here often though,” Eric said. “Seeing as you work here. Adam didn’t tell me the food was bomb; I feel like he’s been holding out on me.”

“What did he do, just talk about how fantastic Luke is?” Hank asked. “Those two are in the honeymoon phase hardcore.”

“Something like that. Or he’s bragging about his brother-in-law, Seth; from what I hear, the kid’s a genius or something.”

Hank chuckled. “Seth’s smart, all right, and ambitious, but both of those guys really dote on him. He’s just asked out a girl for the first time; Luke was so nervous about it, you’d’ve thought he was the one taking the dating plunge.”

“I guess it’s one of those older sibling things,” Eric said. He didn’t have any siblings, so he wouldn’t know.

“My older sister was never this protective of me, I can tell you that much,” Hank said. “Half the time I think she’s convinced I’m a disappointment.”

“I feel like it’s either one or the other with siblings,” Eric said.

“Yeah, it’s pretty much either I’ll help you hide the body, or don’t so much as breathe in my direction,” Hank said.

Eric thought he could detect a genuine underlying frustration there, though, so he tried to change topics. “You always wanted to be a cook?”

“Oh yeah, even when I was six and nearly burning down the kitchen,” Hank said. His eyes were warm and dark, and Eric really didn’t think anyone could blame him for staring into them. Hank launched into some stories about cooking school and his own mishaps, until Eric was laughing so hard his sides hurt.

They’d been scooting closer the entire time, leaning in, until by now their knees were touching and their hands were only a hair’s breadth from doing so as well where they rested on the bar top. “I always thought those places were super competitive and serious,” Eric said, grinning helplessly.

“They can be, but don’t trust the movies; we found our ways to have fun,” Hank told him, also grinning.

“How did you end up working here, then?” Eric would’ve found some fancy place in Chicago to work at, if it’d been him. But then, Dad had always made sure that Eric was ambitious.

Hank explained how Luke was a friend — and temporarily a crush — from high school, and how Joe’s had taken off and gotten a kitchen, the whole ordeal. Hank seemed to genuinely like working here, with the relaxed atmosphere and the feeling of everybody knowing everybody.

It sounded nice to Eric, the idea that you were essentially working for your friends. That you knew the products of your labor were going into making them happy. It was kind of cheesy, but in a good way.

“It must be really nice,” Eric said, voicing his thoughts out loud. “It’s almost like just cooking for your friends at a barbecue, or something.”

“It is,” Hank replied. “Stressful, though, when we get a lot of orders like tonight. You have to learn how to handle it.”

“And how do you handle it?” Eric asked, lowering his voice a bit.

Hank’s smile turned openly flirtatious. “I’m sure you could help me come up with some ways.”

Eric pretended to think for a moment. “I’m afraid none of them are appropriate for this room.”

He could feel that old familiar tingling just underneath his skin, the whoosh in his stomach that made him want to do something reckless. Maybe he should take breaks from work more often if he was going to be feeling this heady, this drunk, on just entertaining the thought of sex with a stranger.

Hank’s dark gaze roamed over Eric’s face, as if searching him out, seeing if Eric was serious in what he was suggesting. Eric shifted closer, until he could feel the heat radiating off of Hank’s body. It had been ages since he’d seen a guy this attractive, and even longer since he’d felt like he could act on the desire beginning to build at the base of his spine.

“I don’t know,” Hank said, his voice lower than before. “I’d hate to ruin that nice suit of yours.”

“Maybe I want to get it ruined, just a little,” Eric replied. This wasn’t exactly his favorite outfit; he’d be willing to get a little dirty if it meant he could finally have someone’s hands on him again.

Hank’s hands were broad, a little rough, with small scars from burns and knife cuts over the years. It made him look more dangerous than he probably was, made him look kind of like a guy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Hank reached out, brushing his fingers over Eric’s tie. “I could definitely think of some uses for this.”

Eric reached up and undid the tie, undoing the top couple buttons of his shirt as well, because a fully buttoned-up shirt without a tie just looked weird. “I like the sound of that,” he said, keeping his eyes locked onto Hank’s. “But that also sounds like something you need a bed for.”

“I’m guessing your place is all the way in the city,” Hank hazarded.

Eric nodded, putting the tie in his pocket. He noticed how Hank’s eyes drifted to Eric’s now-exposed neck and collarbones. “And you?”

Hank shook his head. “I’ve got a roommate, he’ll be home.” He sounded honestly reluctant.

It was probably stupid; he wasn’t in college going out to clubs anymore. But for once, Eric wanted to throw caution to the wind. “You know, all you really need is a wall.”

Hank’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and for a moment Eric thought that maybe he’d shown his hand too much, had come across as desperate. But then Hank grinned.

“We could go around back,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a car…”

“Not one that’ll fit both of us in it,” Eric replied. “At least, not for what I’ve got in mind.”

Hank’s grin turned absolutely filthy. “I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is you have in mind.”

Eric wondered if he should be thanking some higher power for this. A stressful day, fear of losing his promotion, and bam, the universe dropped a gorgeous and willing man practically into Eric’s lap.

Hank leaned in, his mouth close but not quite touching Eric’s cheek. Eric had to swallow hard, his throat dry and clicking. “Go around back,” Hank told him. “You’ll see there’s a door; I’ll meet you there.”

Eric nodded, trying and probably failing to keep the idiotic grin off his face.

God, it felt good to be reckless.