"It's laziness, pure and simple."

Teddy tapped his fingers against the blueprints spread across the desk and tried to blot out the smell of Mr. Caldwell's cologne. He'd been smoking again and was obviously hoping the cologne would keep anyone from noticing. It wouldn't, but it would make it very hard for them to breathe. Humming noncommittally, he tried adding an extra wall to the too-small kitchen and living room space. It gave more room for cabinets, but almost no room for anything else.

"Honestly, those people just want to cheat the landlords out of a decent rent." Peter Caldwell Senior knocked his glass against the table, the expensive alcohol sloshing up to the very edge. "They should get a damned job."

Scraping the eraser roughly over the modifications he made, Teddy bit back a growl as the delicate paper tore. He balled up that sheet, tossing it at the overflowing trash can without looking up from where he was pulling out a new one.

"Exactly, my boy," Caldwell said. "Trash. The lot of them." He frowned at the papers piled high in the bin. "Worthless, every last one. Look at this mess. The maid should have taken this out by now."

Teddy glanced over at it distractedly. "I think it was taken out before she started on dinner," he said, lightly tracing the edges of a configuration he already discarded onto the blueprint. If he moved the plumbing slightly, maybe...

Grumbling, the other man downed the last of his drink. "Lazy bums, taking money away from good, hard-working folks."

Teddy pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed down the urge to start listing facts and figures about low-income housing. It never did anything besides remind him how much he hated people. "Excuse me, Mr. Caldwell. I need to make a phone call." Teddy fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it around. He tried to keep his face blank, having been told by multiple reliable sources he looked like a serial killer when he forced himself to smile. There was a reason he left social interaction to his best friends.

"Of course, son," Caldwell said, getting to his feet, his nose already flushed red from his pre-dinner drinks. "A man's got to handle his business." He clapped Teddy on the back jovially and sauntered out of the room.

"I'm not your son," Teddy muttered under his breath as he dialed. "And I have no idea what that even means." He tapped his fingers distractedly against the design as the phone rang, a syncopated pattern in between each ring with an extra beat on the third just as the call connected.

"How's Houston?" Luke asked. He was already laughing.

Pouting at his design as he tried to decide if he would be better off turning the whole thing on its head, he huffed down the line. "If I kill my host, what are the chances you could get me off?"

"I'm not licensed in Texas, but I do know a few very good lawyers from that area. I'd say about 60% if you plead temporary insanity. Of course, now it's premeditated, so maybe more like 45%." In the background, Teddy could hear water running, and then a shriek of the pitch particular to young babies.

"Tell Jay I'm sorry to interrupt bath time," he said, leaning back in his chair.

There was a brief commotion, and then Luke snorted. "He says you can't kill anyone. You're Junior's godfather, and that sets a bad example."

Teddy sighed. "They're just so ignorant. Willfully so."

"So explain to me again why you aren't just staying with your grandmother?" The baby squealed again, and Luke cooed some baby-talk nonsense at her.

"Mom and Dad said it would cause Nana too much stress."

"Wasn't your grandmother the one who taught you Krav Maga?"

"Yes," Teddy said dryly. "I think they're more concerned with keeping Regan happy. Grandmother refused to let her crash in the pool house the last time she went on vacation."

"Oh, yes. Not letting your deadbeat sister trash the cabana is completely comparable to giving you an idiot-free place to sleep. Did you at least get a window that doesn't face the street?" The background noises faded, and Luke's voice dropped to a quieter, more concerned register.

"Not originally." Biting his lip, Teddy erased the lines he'd drawn. "I couldn't sleep, though, too many lights. I asked them if I could be moved, and then went to Nana's. How did Sarah like her blocks?"

Luke followed the topic jump with the ease of many years of practice, humming under his breath with amused affection. "She loves them. She's drooled and chewed on every last one of them. Brendan wants some for his sister's kids. Apparently, they destroy any toy they are given."

"They're little monsters," Teddy said. "I've met them. If I can ever figure out how to fix this floor plan, I'll go over to the wood shop at Nana's and make a few things." He tried turning the design around so the kitchen faced the main door, but that just left him with even less space for the living room and cabinetry. "Remind me to never take a job like this again."

"That bad, huh?"

"If they hadn't already sued the original architect, I'd do it myself."

"Are you at least enjoying the sun?"

Teddy sighed. "I'm Irish, Luke."

The Californian laughed. "Good point. Well, take some time to enjoy the scenery, then. Ogle your grandmother's cabana boy or something."

"Nana doesn't have a cabana boy. The Caldwells have a landscaper, but I'm afraid to ogle him. He looks like he would knock my teeth out, no questions asked." Teddy balled up the sheet of paper and tossed it across the room. "I hate this project."

"Tell me about it," Luke said, his voice soothing. As the youngest of their group, bound together by their college frat, Sigma Alpha Omega, Luke was exactly the opposite of what people expected, calm and shy and constantly smelling of cookies.

"The bid was for a thousand units and ten buildings of low-income housing, energy efficient but with enough space to be real homes for people," Teddy said, tapping his pencil against the paper.

"You love that sort of thing."

The pencil hit one corner of the blueprints too hard and the lead snapped, leaving a pile of graphite dust and a deep black mark. "I put in a bid on it when it was originally announced, but my plan was considered too extravagant for low-income housing."

Luke sighed. "What did you put in? Walk-in pantries? Garden tubs?"

"Kitchen islands," Teddy admitted, crossing his arms and glaring at the plan. "Eighty-five percent of low-income families cook at home five or more days a week."

"Sounds sensible, then."

"The city council didn't agree. They hired an architect who had a plan to double the number of units and squeeze in five more buildings on the land they purchased. Only six months ago, the architect announced his budget had doubled due to supply issues. Even just giving them the original ten buildings was going to cost millions more." He brushed the pencil lead off the blueprint, scowling at the gray smears it left behind on his hand and the paper. "They agreed, contingent on inspection."

"That was surprisingly smart of them," Luke said, stifling a yawn. "Let me guess, it failed inspection?"

"The committee members I met are good people," Teddy said, "just clueless about how to help. The inspector found over a hundred code violations in each of the finished units. The architect was fired on the spot, and the city has filed four different lawsuits against him and his company."

"So they called you in to fix it because you put in a bid?"

"Actually, they asked me because of the award I won for the development in Connecticut. They didn't even realize I was the same Theodore William Connelly until I got here." Because it was such a common name, of course. The head of the committee had been very uncomfortable with the realization, although Teddy wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or the fact it was becoming increasingly clear the whole mess was entirely due to nepotism. "So, now I have to minimize the budget as much as possible, but still undo everything the original architect did and get this project finished with enough space for people to live in."

"Well, that sucks. Should I distract you?"

"Please."

"Brendan and Greg have got Kris in ballet. He's better at it than Nate was," Luke said immediately.

Teddy smiled. He never knew what to do with children, but their oldest frat brother's two sons were old enough for him to be able to interact with. "Nate has Brendan's coordination and two left feet."

"Yeah," Luke agreed ruefully. "He won the state science fair again this year, though. The school board is talking about bumping him to high school."

"Don't," Teddy said immediately. "He'll be miserable. He likes having friends and doing kid things."

"Not like you, huh?" Luke said. "Greg put his foot down. He's already two grades ahead. It won't kill them to wait another year." He couldn't quite stifle his yawn this time. "They are sending him to that science summer camp you recommended, though."

"Good. He'll love it. I should let you go. I don't want your husband mad at me," Teddy added, putting his supplies away neatly. "He's scary when he's mad."

"You good?" The slur of exhaustion in his voice did nothing to lessen his sincerity.

"No, but it's nothing you can help with right now. I'm going to go for a walk, I think." He leaned down and began collecting the crumpled sheets of paper. He had seen an overly manicured area at the edge of the property that most likely hid the dumpster.

"Go ogle the landscaper," Luke teased.

"It's after ten," he replied primly. "He's probably at home asleep."

"Tomorrow, then. Or the next time you see him. Take a chance on a cute guy."

"I didn't say he was cute," Teddy said over the crinkle of paper. The silence stretched long enough for him to sigh. "Fine, he's cute. Why did I even call you? Go to bed."

"You love me," Luke said, laughing. "I'll tell the others you said hello. The monthly get together is next weekend."

Teddy frowned. "I wish I could make it, but there's too much to do here right now. I should be able to make it to the August dinner."

"Don't worry about it. Just focus on working your magic on that development. And try to get a little sleep at least."

Humming, Teddy ended the call and headed for the garden, the bag of papers crunching as he tucked it against his side. He took the eighteen steps through the kitchen because it was faster than the twenty-five steps through the front foyer, and there was absolutely zero chance of running into anyone. Six steps down to the cracked path that led around the house, and he was able to take a deep breath of the night air.

He'd spent every summer of his childhood in Houston, so the thick, heavy humidity felt like home as it filled his lungs, soaked into his skin, and made everything feel slow and lazy. The air hummed with life, even at the late hour, and he waved away an assortment of tiny bugs who flocked around his head as he passed under the yellowed light that was the only illumination on this side of the building

The one thing about staying at the Caldwells' house he did enjoy was the yard. There weren't as many roses and heavily perfumed flowers as his grandmother's sprawling gardens had, but it was well designed. Walking paths he'd yet to see anyone use, curled around topiaries sculpted into smooth lines and curves . There was a wide patio and an outdoor kitchen for grilling overlooking the pool, all must-haves for any Texan who wanted to entertain.

Running his hand along the gleaming granite countertop of the bar, Teddy noted, not for the first time, the grill was completely spotless as if it had rolled out of the showroom and into place. He'd be shocked if the Caldwells used it more than once a year, a capital crime in his opinion.

The path in this part of the yard was perfectly smooth, not a stone out of place. The order of it all soothed that itch in the back of his mind that wanted to fix all the little things that made the house less than perfect. He'd been told by multiple professors that sometimes people sacrificed function to make a house look pretty to visitors. Around the fourth time, he stopped listening, still no closer to understanding the human psyche.

The curve of the path around the other side of the house reminded him of one of his favorite mathematical functions, a symmetrical curl bordered by more topiaries. This was the best part of the property, in his opinion, not because it was obviously the least used. The topiaries here were shaped more creatively than the ones in the back, a seashell spiral to the left of the path and a blocky geometric pattern to the right. One corner of the bottom cube hadn't quite grown into place yet, leaving it charmingly lopsided.

He was close to the crowded area half hidden behind the carriage house. There was a half-full dumpster hidden behind it, a fat raccoon perched on top. They stared at each other for a moment, the raccoon staring at the bag in Teddy's hand as if weighing his chances of stealing it.

"It's just paper," he said holding it out. "You can have it if you want, but I don't like hospitals, so please don't give me rabies."

The raccoon seemed to sniff, shifting grudgingly to the other end of the dumpster and digging through a bag of what looked like potato skins.

Tossing the bag onto the rest of the trash, Teddy turned back to the house, but his feet refused to take a step in that direction. It wasn't the house's fault he didn't like it. It was a good house, sturdy brick with decorative columns in the plantation style favored by the region. He couldn't even find fault with the construction except for a few of those aesthetic choices he didn't understand. It was a nice house that was doing the best it could with the horrible people that lived there.

Turning toward the street, Teddy shuffled that way instead. He really ought to go to sleep, but he had time for a quick walk around the neighborhood. Maybe the houses in the area would give him some inspiration. He'd seen a very pretty example of mid-century modern a few blocks toward the highway. If he didn't get distracted, he could be there and back before eleven o'clock.