Days like today make me wish I could sell my truck. Every person who considers you a friend, acquaintance, or even trick will ask for help moving the second they learn you own a truck.

Craig actually is a friend, even though I haven’t seen him since our last kayak run at the beginning of September. He and his boyfriend Zach had just gotten together over the summer and were nauseatingly in love. We still keep in touch now that kayak season is over, but by text or social media since I’m usually too busy with work to make it to Fort Collins for fun. I moved to Loveland for a job, and it is a fucking boring town.

After kayaking, I shift right into mountain biking, weather usually permitting, unless the occasional ice or snow decides to ruin my fun. Even then, you can get these super cool snow tires and mountain bike through the snow. Extreme sports goals right there. People always envision Colorado as super wet because, hey mountains, when really a lot of parts, including the northern foothills, are incredibly arid. Doesn’t mean we don’t get our fair share of snow, though. Craig has no interest in biking, which surprises me, but I like a good adrenaline rush, no matter what the reason or season.

For once, I offered to help with a move instead of reluctantly agreeing to someone’s begging. Zach has a best friend and about to be ex-roommate named Ben, and the one time we met and danced for five minutes piqued my interest. The man has moves, so I decided I wouldn’t mind helping out a friend if it means ogling said roommate while he works up a sweat. Who knows? Maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll let me give him a tongue bath when we’re finished.

The move starts at Craig’s old place. I load up his kayak, rack, and other equipment into my truck while he and Zach stuff boxes into their much smaller cars.

“Where’s Ben?” I ask them once we’ve stopped to catch our breath. No point in beating around the bush. The man is the reason I’m lugging crap two days before New Year’s Eve.

“He is at his family’s for the holidays. Won’t get back for a few days,” Zach says.

Damn. I spent all that time curling my hair and fishing out my painted-on yoga pants for nothing.

Craig laughs at my pout. “I should have guessed. I thought it was strange you volunteered.”

“I am offended that you’re questioning my motives. But seriously, if the only eye candy I get is you two, then I want pizza and beer for the use of my truck.”

We make quick work of the rest of Craig’s place, drive the two blocks to their new home, and unload just as quickly. Zach wants us to read each box label and place them in the appropriate rooms, but Craig and I revolt and stack them in the first available space. Craig pulls Zach into a kiss to stop his complaining about how we’re “messing up his system.” Yuck. I linger outside to avoid the sickening cuteness.

“Jesus, were you christening the place?” I say when they finally emerge ten minutes later. Craig grins proudly, but Zach ducks his tomato-red face. Yep, sickeningly cute.

I need directions to Zach’s place, our next stop, since I’ve never been there. Craig and Zach – and oh my god I just realized their ship name would be Crach – stop for snacks, so I get there first. Seriously, must remember to point this out to them. And everyone they know.

I wind around the parking lot until I find the right building. Oh hallelujah, a gorgeous man is embarking on a move of his own, hefting plastic bins from the trunk of a car. I kill the engine and enjoy the scenery. His track pants highlight the cleft of his well-formed ass and I enjoy the side-butt dimples that play hide-and-seek with every step he takes to the second floor. Too soon, he has moved out of view.

Craig and Zach arrive and lead us up the same set of stairs. I’m so busy looking at other doorways and up the other flight of stairs, hoping for another glimpse of Gorgeous, that it takes me a second to realize Zach is talking to me.

“Mal, I wanted to introduce you to my cousin, Parker. He’s moving into my old room.”

I turn with my hand already extended and almost choke on my sharp inhale. Parker, aka Gorgeous, grabs my hand with a firm shake and warm smile.

“So you’re the sucker with the truck? Nice of you to help out.”

His green eyes twinkle, and combined with the tuft of sandy hair sticking up through the opening of his snapback, make him look like a devilish frat boy. I suppress the sudden urge to request a personal initiation, and instead say, “I’m a sucker alright,” wink included.

Parker shakes his head. “You would think I’ve been around Ben enough now that I’d see those jokes coming.” Craig raises an eyebrow, and Parker rolls his eyes and groans. “Damn it.”

Craig told me a little about Parker, and I have to admit, I was expecting a pocket protector, not a jock strap. I can work with either, but unfortunately, the man is straight. At least he has improved the scenery, but alas, he won’t be taking me up on my tongue bath offer later.

Parker hauls up the last of his own boxes, then starts in on Zach’s things with the rest of us. Every time I return to the truck with a new box, the others have been rearranged, and there’s suddenly fifty percent more space than before. Like Parker is a magical space-creating wizard.

We return to the kitchen at the same time, and our fingers brush against each other as we each grab a box. The contact sends sparks up my arm, but Parker doesn’t spare a glance my way. Craig already mentioned an ex-wife, but if he hadn’t, that would have proved it. I study my reflection in the microwave door. My curls are partly pulled into a bun and the rest cascade into a soft frame around my sharp cheekbones. My microfiber shirt is tight enough that if I were allowing myself to sweat right now, it would be plastered on me like papier-mâché. I might not be every gay man’s wet dream, but I always get a second look.

“Mal,” Craig yells from the hallway. “If you can get the last box in there, I think we’ll be through with Zach’s stuff.”

With a last look and a sigh at all my wasted effort, I lug the box downstairs. Craig and Zach pile into their respective cars, both so full that they have to sit at unnatural angles in the front seat. Obviously Parker didn’t work his magic on their vehicles, only mine.

“Mind if I ride with you?” Parker asks. The deep timbre of his voice behind me coats my skin like honey, and I physically shake myself to refocus. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just figured it would be a waste of gas, since you have room. However, if you prefer …”

I wave away his rambling with my hand and gesture to the passenger seat. “Hop in.”

He nods his thanks, and my eyes trace the bulge of his biceps when he hoists himself into the truck by the “oh shit” handle.

“It’s great that you were able to take Zach’s room. Have you been in Fort Collins long?” I say, trying to distract myself from drooling. My new mantra, “He’s straight,” runs on repeat in my head.

“Just moved here in the fall. I lived in Denver previously. I think it worked out amazingly well. I really enjoy Ben’s company, and he still needed someone to help with rent, so it was a logical solution.” He rubs his palms along his pants. “I also felt like it would be a good distraction from, well, things.”

I nod along, trying not to give away that I am already well aware what those things are – the divorce and the catalyst behind it. I’m sure he doesn’t want to know his friends have been gossiping behind his back.

“From what I’ve heard, and the few minutes when I met him, Ben seems like he would be up for the job.”

“Yes, indeed. He’s the complete opposite of the last person I lived with. Shelby, my ex-wife. Well, soon-to-be ex-wife. That’s a good thing.” He frowns out the window for a bit, and his gaze lingers on a couple walking a covered stroller, with a young child, bundled from head to toe, running ahead. “It’s a nice area, lots of trees and parks.”

I imagine he’s thinking about what might have been, and for some reason, I’m hit with the urge to cheer him up.

“Another nice thing about the area is the closeness to Poudre Canyon. Do you kayak or mountain bike? I can show you some great runs.”

He aims a startled glance my way, and damn it if I don’t know what’s coming. I should have kept my big mouth shut, and it is big with pillowy fuck-me lips, thank you.

“You kayak?”

I nod and hum, not trusting my voice right now.

“I didn’t imagine you’d be the type.”

“No?” He happily shakes his head and I want to smack the stupid from it. “You can’t imagine that a person could be multifaceted and have more than one interest at a time? Or is it just a surprise that someone as glorious as this is able to rock the sweaty and dripping look, because trust me, I look amazing no matter what it is that I’m doing.”

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He shifts in his seat looking truly horrified, and starts to lay a hand on my arm, then pulls back, thinking better of it. “You just remind me of Shelby. She always made sure she looked perfect, and she refused to break a sweat. She was one of those girls who would never actually get in the water when we went swimming because it would ruin her hair and makeup.”

He says it with a deep bitterness to his voice. I can tell it’s been a while since anyone challenged his expectations, and unfortunately, it seems Shelby never strayed from her expected role of bitch.

I reach over and pat his knee, partly to let him know I won’t freak out if he touches me. “Comparing me to the ex-wife is probably also not the best idea, even though I’ll take the ‘looking perfect’ compliment.” His eyes betray his horror. Yeah, buddy, you were digging that grave. “But you’re new, and I think you mean well, so I’m going to let this one slide. I suppose you just need to be trained up a bit. Remember, things aren’t always what they seem. If they were, I’d peg you for a douchey frat boy.”

“I was a frat boy,” he mutters.

I bite my lip so I won’t laugh. This poor guy just can’t catch a break.

I park in the driveway of Craig and Zach’s new home, hand still in place on Parker’s knee. Before I can pull away, he grabs it and squeezes.

“I truly am sorry. I didn’t mean to be that guy. I don’t want to be that guy.”

“So we’ll rewind,” I say and then make some funny backwards noises that are my sad attempt at a rewind joke, but still leave my hand in his. I don’t want to pull away from his strong but soft touch. That alone should make the warning bells go off. What’s my mantra again?

“Do you bike or kayak? I can show you some great runs.”

A genuine smile spreads across his face. “I haven’t been biking in years, and I’ve always wanted to try mountain biking,” Parker says, finally pulling his hand away with a funny look on his face that I can’t decipher. “Would you really want to take me?”

“Absolutely,” I assure him, and we head to the back of the truck and start to unload boxes. He’s not really paying attention to me anymore, lost in his thoughts, but at least they appear to be good ones. His face lights up with a smile.

“Great!” he finally says, startling me because I thought the conversation was over. “I’ll start looking around for a bike and let you know.”

“Can’t wait,” I say, returning his smile. And as I watch him walk away, thinking about that ass on a bike as well as the frown I converted into a smile, I really can’t wait.