The rest of our weekend passed without mishaps or misplaced jealousy on my part. At least I did my best. I accompanied Zane and Dean on their boat search expedition because it seemed like a healthier option than sitting at the hotel wondering if I’d convinced myself that Dean had a crush on my fiancé and what that said about me. I traipsed behind them, tuning out endless dialogue about the integrity of a sailboat’s mainsail and jib. As Zane’s boyfriend, I’d learned more than I cared to admit about a sailor’s lexicon over the past few months. I followed their conversation easily and made sure to weigh in if asked, but I found myself zoning out and concentrating on Dean.

Dean wasn’t necessarily flirtatious, but he was handsy. The kind of overly friendly guy who constantly fist-bumped, shoulder-grabbed, and occasionally stood a little too close. It may have been a personality quirk but it bugged me. And what got me more was that I noticed stupid things like when he left his hand on Zane’s elbow a beat too long. Annoying habits aside, I might have lost interest sooner if I hadn’t caught his scrutinizing once-over a couple of times. He was probably mystified by the twist of fate that landed a hot, popular, former star water polo player with the town geek. Not my problem. Dean’s opinion of me, good or bad, wasn’t my concern. Zane didn’t give me much of a chance to spin on it either way. He made a point of including me in every discussion and asking for my opinion as though it might influence his decision-making.

He performed the same magic with my parents at Sunday brunch. Truthfully, he didn’t have to try hard. My folks loved all my friends, but they’d always had a soft spot for Zane. He was effortlessly friendly. I didn’t know many people who could inquire after a recent Caribbean cruise and compliment everything from my mom’s haircut to my dad’s weight loss without sounding like a kiss-ass. Zane was definitely one of them.

* * *

A month later, my mother was already asking when we’d be back. Zane had made a couple of quick trips south with Don Carrigan in between races to look at a few boats Dean and he had scouted out, but there was no way I could justify another trip with my current workload and a wedding to plan. We were less than three months away from our big day. It was time to focus.

Though I had to admit, the occasional night vegging in front of the television with friends was nirvana.

I threw a bag of pretzels at Josh and then handed Grant and him a beer.

“Ow?” Josh glowered without heat and rubbed his head for effect. “Where’s your drink? Come on, man, the Giants are finally winning. Get into the spirit.”

Josh gestured toward our large flat-screen and adjusted his baseball cap as though it was proof he was rooting for the home team.

Josh was a little taller and leaner than me but in all other ways, we were kind of alike. He had brown hair and brown eyes and pleasant features, but neither of us was going to be asked to pose in GQ, like Grant, who had in fact modeled for several fashion magazines. Grant was six two and gorgeous with a capital G. He was a former underwear model turned clothes designer who’d recently been coerced to help with his family’s real estate business. Grant was still dressed in his suit, though he had slipped off his coat and lost the tie when he walked in with Josh, who like me, wore holey jeans and an old tee.

“I’ll grab my wine now,” I said. I picked up my wineglass from the kitchen island and then made my way back to the great room. I perched my ass on the corner of the sofa next to Grant, who looked equally engrossed with the 1-0 score flashing on the TV screen. “Do you guys want me to order Mexican tonight? I’m tired of pizza.”

“Who even says that?” Josh asked with a frown. “Real people never get tired of pizza. But yeah, I love Mexican too. And both work with my budget. I’m buying tonight!”

Grant quirked his brow and raised his bottle in a toast. “What’s the occasion, big spender?”

“No occasion. It’s just my turn. Though…I may have been asked to help with the new installation at the Modern,” Josh singsonged.

Josh was a junior curator at the Modern Museum downtown. We all knew he loved his job, but he was the first to say it was a good thing he loved the museum because he spent a lot of time running errands and writing grants all day. Helping with an actual installation was big news.

“Congratulations!” Grant and I exclaimed.

“Thanks. I’m excited. Let’s order soon though. I’m hungry. When is Zane gonna be home? And where’s Nick been lately? He didn’t pick up his cell all weekend,” Josh said.

“Zane should be here soon and Nick…” I took a sip of wine and then cradled my glass protectively. “He’s hot on a new project. I couldn’t get him to take a break from the lab. You know how he gets.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “We all know how Nick gets. Somebody better check on him to make sure he’s eating, sleeping, and not wearing the same clothes for days on end. Again.”

“Don’t worry. Between Barb, Miles and me, we look after him,” I assured my friends. “Lately, it’s around the clock. His obsessive-compulsive tendencies have only gotten worse since he ended his engagement with Lisa. Now he’s tipped into paranoia. He thinks Lisa’s dad is sabotaging us through Zane.”

“What the fuck?” Grant’s brow creased in confusion.

I explained our friend’s latest theory involving Don Carrigan hiring Zane to help him purchase a sailboat as a means of getting to EN Tech. “On one hand, it’s pretty convoluted, but I can’t help thinking Nick’s right about staying on our toes. It’s hard to know who you can trust anymore.”

“Maybe so, but you both know you can trust Zane. He’s not going to let Lisa’s dad take advantage of him. Especially not if Carrigan wants to harm you,” Grant said before tipping his beer bottle back.

Josh nodded. “The only reason it seems odd is because of Zane’s profession. Most people think of sailing as a social, good time sport or something you do with buddies on weekends. We all know the guy works his ass off and that he isn’t necessarily chummy with every person he either sells a boat to or sails with in a race. Maybe Nick needs a reminder that Zane had a working relationship with Carrigan before he asked Lisa to marry him,” Josh huffed before adding, “You know, if Z was an accountant, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“So he should change professions?” Grant snarked.

I chuckled when Josh threw a pretzel at Grant’s head. “Nick knows all that. It’s just…personal, you know? A close friend, almost-father-in-law and the company you co-founded and built from scratch. He knows he can trust two out of three for sure, but the one he can’t trust keeps him up at night. In a way, I get it. I wish Zane would find the fucking boat already and be done with this. I’m tired of worrying about Nick and Don and Zane and Dean and—”

“Wait. Dean? He’s the old high school buddy, right?” Josh asked.

“Yeah. I barely knew him back then ’cause he was two years ahead of us, but I knew his sister. She was sweet, but Dean…he was too cool. He still is. I’m trying to be mature here, but I get this vibe from him that makes me feel like I’m a sixteen-year-old dork again. Every time I see him, I notice it. Thankfully, it’s not often but he came up north to test-drive a boat with Zane last weekend. It was a surprise visit. At least I was surprised to find him sitting at my island drinking my alcohol like he fucking owned the place. He had the nerve to put a beer bottle on my wedding planner. If that damn book wasn’t busting at the seams with information, I’d replace it. He left a fucking ring on it!” I sounded like a pouty brat but I figured these guys wouldn’t hold it against me when I added, “I hate him.”

Josh patted my head. “Someone needs a burrito.”

I gave a half laugh as I pulled my feet under me. “That oughtta do the trick. Extra cheese too, please.”

“You got it. What do you want, Grant? The soft taco combo with rice and beans or—”

“Hey, the gang’s all here!” Zane boomed as he walked into the room.

I turned with a smile to greet him but it immediately froze when I noticed he’d brought someone with him. Dean. Again.

In fact, that’s what I was beginning to call him in my head.…Dean Again.

Josh and Grant shot wary glances my way before standing to greet Zane and his guest. I listened to their brief introductions before peeling my ass off the sofa to kiss my boyfriend and offer the dick he’d brought with him a beverage. I couldn’t help it. Good manners were ingrained in me.

Dean’s gaze locked on Zane’s arm around my waist. And it may have been my imagination, but I swore his insipid grin dipped slightly. It was back in full force a moment later.

“Thanks. A beer sounds great,” he said with a cocky smile.

“Fabulous. Anyone else?” I asked as I skirted the island.

“I’ll have another,” Josh replied before playfully nudging Zane’s shoulder. “We were just about to order dinner from Rosa’s. Are you guys hungry?”

“I am,” Nick announced as he waltzed into the great room. He was immediately greeted by a round of fist bumps and back-slapping.

“We missed you, Nicky. Glad you’re joining the party. Burrito, taco, enchilada?” Josh asked.

“One of everything. I’m starving.” Nick held his hand to Dean. “Hi, there. Nick Jorgensen.”

“I’ll get more beer,” I mumbled, as Dean chatted pleasantly with my friends in my house after spending the day with my boyfriend. Fucker.

Why was everyone suddenly so damn polite around here? Dean was not welcome to infringe on my friend time. These were my people. Not his. I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood as I opened the fridge and pulled out a few bottles.

“Need a hand?” Zane asked, joining me in the kitchen. He slipped his fingers under my T-shirt and caressed my lower back.

I shook my head then set the beers on the counter and gave him the tight-lipped smile I’d been saving for Dean. “Nope. I’m good. Let me go. I need to deliver this to our guest.”

Zane frowned. “What’s the problem, Eric?”

“Don’t call me Eric,” I hissed.

If possible, his forehead creased even more. “Did you change your name?”

“You only call me Eric when you’re pissed, and you have no right to be angry here,” I growled in a low voice.

“Neither do you,” he retorted.

“Yes, I do. Why didn’t you tell me we were having company?” I whispered.

“He’s having one beer and then taking a taxi to the airport. Is it really a big deal?”

“Of course not.” I glared at him then stepped out of his grasp and pasted a cordial expression on my mug before rejoining everyone in the living area.

“…good to meet him, though. It’s important to get a feel for what kind of power a client is looking for in a boat. If you’re tooling around a bay you certainly don’t want to fuss with multiple sails. This dude says he wants to cruise the coast though. Maybe even sail to Hawaii. He seems like a good guy. I offered to be part of his crew if he was serious,” Dean said, stopping to smile his thanks when I handed him a bottle.

“Who seems like a good guy?” I asked.

“Don Carrigan. Do you know him?”

My nostrils flared when I nodded. “Yeah. I know him.”

“Don isn’t that great of a guy,” Nick huffed testily then set his beer on a side table.

“I liked him. He’s kinda funny. He wants to set me up with his daughter,” Dean said with a half laugh.

The ensuing silence was awkward. It echoed and bounced off the walls and windows like a rogue rubber ball…curiously fascinating and annoying at the same time.

Zane snorted and gave his friend a playful shove. “He was kidding, man. Don’t get excited.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. Sounds like she had a bad breakup and—”

“That was me,” Nick said in a low voice. “The bad breakup. You probably knew that, though.”

Dean raised his brow in what passed for sincere surprise. “Uh…no. I didn’t. Sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything if—”

“Hey! The Giants just scored. Woohoo!” Josh jumped in front of Nick and held up his hand for a high-five. It was a desperate effort to lighten the mood, but we collectively grasped it, knowing there was no other way to defuse the faux pas without creating tension.

I pulled Nick with me and flopped on the sofa, aware of multiple conversations happening at once. Josh ordering takeout as he paced behind me, Dean and Zane chatting with Grant about their day on the Bay while Nick stewed unhappily beside me. I told myself to remain calm. Now was not the time to draw conclusions. I didn’t like the idea of Dean, Don, and Zane spending time together any more than Nick did, but the fact they did wasn’t a sign of collusion. It was just…annoying as fuck.

* * *

Zane and I agreed early on to confront any issues between us before they grew unmanageable. We’d been together for less than a year, but we’d been good friends for ages. And good friends knew how to communicate. Or so I assumed.

“This isn’t about taking sides, Er. It’s about you deciding I’m guilty,” Zane said irritably before handing over the toothpaste and then brushing his teeth.

“Of what?” I glowered.

He spit into the sink and paused to say, “You tell me!”

I pointed my toothbrush at his chest and clenched my jaw. “Befriending the enemy.”

The second the words left my mouth, I knew they’d be tricky to argue successfully. I ducked my head and gave my utmost attention to the art of applying toothpaste to a brush. I nearly had the perfect swirl at the end, but Zane’s incredulous gasp ruined it. He rinsed his mouth hurriedly and then smacked his hand on the marble countertop, startling me a second time.

“And who exactly is the enemy in the scenario?”

“Dean and Don. Known enemies of the state!” I declared around my toothbrush.

“What?” He waited for me to rinse and repeat before shaking his head and crossing his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we really doing this again?”

“Maybe we are,” I snarled. “I can’t believe he brought up Lisa in front of Nick. Don’t tell me it was an accident.”

“Dean spoke out of turn, but I highly doubt it was malicious. He apologized to Nick later. You heard him.”

“Hmph. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

I wiped my mouth on the hand towel then took a sip of water, set the glass down, and turned toward him. I wished I hadn’t. Zane had looked annoyed in the mirror but something closer to pissed off face-to-face. His sun-streaked hair fell over his right brow sweetly but did nothing to soften his expression or mask the tension radiating from him. I might have joked that he resembled a modern-day Viking sometimes. Sue me. The formidable warrior who was rough, commanding, and sexy as fuck was the stuff of my warped fantasies. Perhaps that was why my dick twitched in my boxer briefs. I hoped he didn’t notice. He’d think I was a freak for getting turned on during an argument.

“I’ve explained in depth the nature of my business with both Dean and Don. It isn’t personal,” he said wearily.

“Dean isn’t just business!” I threw my hands in the air in frustration.

“Come on, Er! I’m not interested in him at all. You know that,” he said, clearly exasperated.

“He’s interested in you.”

“No, he isn’t. This is a job. Nothing more.”

“Maybe to you, but I’ve seen how he looks at you. He wants a repeat of high school.” I sighed, crossing my arms to mirror his pose.

“He doesn’t, but…even if he did, I’m not interested in him that way. Do I really need to say it over and over?” he asked softly.

I dropped my hands to my sides and shook my head, feeling more than a little ashamed and embarrassed. “No. I’m sorry. I—I have too much on my plate. My mind is going a million miles an hour between work and the wedding plans and…I wasn’t excited to see Dean tonight. Again.”

“Again, huh?”

“Whatever. I don’t like him and I can’t wait until you find Don fucking Carrigan his boat so this is over,” I huffed.

Zane arched his brow and then raked his hand through his hair. And yeah, those flexed muscles, taut abs and the hint of his V-line caught my eye, but it was the subtle change in his expression that made me do a double take. Irritation gave way to understanding. Frustration gave way to compassion. And under it all was love. Just love.

I gulped when he closed the distance between us and set his hand on my bare hip, slipping his fingers under the elastic of my briefs.

“I found the boat he wants,” he said.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“You were giving me the stink eye all night. It threw me off my game.” He covered my mouth with his free hand before I could apologize or defend myself. “I’m going to explain how this is going to work, but I need you to listen without jumping down my throat. Agreed?”

I let out a deep breath. “I knew there was a catch.”

“There’s no catch. It’s procedure. The boat is in Half Moon Bay. It’s identical to the one we sailed today. Dean knows the owner so he’s going to get the ball rolling for me.”

“Why can’t you go yourself tomorrow? You don’t need him.”

“Actually, I do. It’s Tuesday. I have a regatta to train for this weekend. I can’t go anywhere until after the final race. My plan is to get a ride there and sail the boat home.” He paused for a moment then added, “With Dean.”

“Why Dean? Can’t it be anyone else? Can’t it—I’ll do it. I want to go,” I blurted.

Zane let out an amused half laugh and smiled. “Thank you for offering, but I need an experienced—”

“I’m experienced! I go with you all the time. I know how to tie knots and move the sail thing. I can be helpful,” I insisted.

“ ‘Move the sail thing’ is a new technical term, right?” he joked as he reached to cradle my chin and scratch my jaw lovingly. “Look, it’s a long day at sea. This isn’t a pleasure cruise, it’s work and—”

“Got it. I’m up for the job.”

Zane narrowed his gaze slightly. “What about your own job? Can you take Monday off?”

The answer, of course, was no. As in no way in hell could I afford to take a precious weekday to ride shotgun up the California coast on a whim. It was ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. I clearly wasn’t thinking straight and somewhere in my hazy mind, I was aware Zane was humoring me, surely thinking I’d bust up laughing at the very idea. But I couldn’t let it go and if he let me tag along, I was determined to follow.

“Sure.”

He stepped backward and studied me for a long moment before giving a short nod. “Okay, you’re on.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, clenching my fist victoriously.

“Not so fast, Popeye,” Zane said, recrossing his arms. “Be prepared for a long, hard day. As the least experienced crew member, you’ll be expected to take orders and obey without question. Capisce?”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.” I saluted him with a wicked grin and then lowered my briefs, anxious to move on to a more mutually satisfying past time. “Long and hard, eh?”

Zane snorted then reached around me to open his medicine cabinet. I was pretty confident he was looking for the lube, but he held up his dental floss, cut off a strand and tossed the container on the counter before stepping aside. “Yep. Assuming I can take care of the sale portion this week, we’ll head to Half Moon Bay Sunday night and set sail Monday morning.”

“It’s only a forty-five-minute drive from the city to Half Moon Bay. There’s no way it’ll take all day,” I said confidently.

“Not all day, but it’ll be a few hours. The sea is rough around the point and the fog can be unpredictable. It’s vital to study the charts ahead of time and…”

He might as well have been speaking another language. I tuned him out as he droned on about the hazards of ocean sailing, knowing he’d succeed in changing my mind if I heard too many stories about rogue waves and visibility issues. I had to switch topics fast before I was tempted to give in.

“I bet it’s wet out there,” I interrupted.

“Well, yeah. There’s a little water involved,” he quipped.

“This much?” I dipped my fingers in my water glass and flicked them at him.

Zane held my stare in the mirror and then rolled his eyes. “More or less.”

“How about this?” I dumped most of the water down the drain but left a quarter of an inch in the glass and held it up for inspection.

Zane slowly turned to face me with a somewhat dangerous look in his eye. “I would advise you not to throw that at me.”

“I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing,” I scoffed then waited a half a beat before I flung the contents at his chest.

He was on me so fast, I barely had time to brace myself when he lifted me onto the counter and stepped between my legs.

“You looking for trouble, Er?”

I met his mischievous grin. “What d’ya got?”

Zane palmed my cock and stroked me from base to tip. The lecherous look in his eye promised the kind of trouble that would block out any unpleasantness like creepy high school lovers with flashback crushes and the impending voyage I’d signed up for that had to be the product of momentary madness. This was real. This man, this moment. And he had a delicious way of reminding me of what was truly important. All I had to do was lean in.