After hanging up with a new customer, I stared at the darkening parking lot at Doggie Styles. The weather was nasty today. The rain had turned to freezing and eventually to slush. Every time a customer walked in, the wind would whip through the space and send a chill through me, which cooled my overheated thoughts of late.

Damn, Kam had a nice body. Those lean, coiled muscles from competing, powerful thighs, flat stomach. I knew he was worried about losing strength and flexibility during his recovery—I overheard him telling Jerome one night—but I doubted it would be much of a change.

And the way his cock filled from my touch, which of course, was a totally natural reaction, was dizzying to see regardless. Hell, I’d chub right up too if someone touched my dick, in a perfunctory way or not. At least I think I would.

So why the fuck was I still thinking about it several days later when it was simply one friend helping another get clean after an accident and hospital stay.

Maybe it was because he’d been so helpless and unguarded. He needed to trust me enough to allow me to touch him in intimate places, and I’d never felt that level of vulnerability from anybody before. Least of all Stewart.

It was nearly closing time, and I had texted Kam ten minutes before to ask if he had any requests for dinner. Tristan was finishing up our last grooming appointment, which was an ornery American bulldog. He spoke soothingly to him as he tried clipping his back toenails.

I watched him briefly as I waited for Kam to text me back. He only had use of the one hand, so it normally took him a bit. As I glanced at the dots in the message window indicating he was typing his reply, a smile traced my lips. I could imagine him silently cursing, that little line between his brows prominent.

“What’s with the goofy grin?” Tristan asked, startling me from my thoughts. He had finished with the bulldog, who was now happily licking Tristan’s hand as he placed him in the holding pen.

Tristan had sort of been keeping his eye on me since I’d broken it off with Stewart, even though I’d never call him on it. I felt like I’d disappointed him when Brin ratted me out about hookups with my ex.

He might’ve been my boss, but he was a man I admired, and I hated that he worried about me—about all of us, really. He’d had a tough road with his husband passing from brain cancer a few years ago, but he’d handled himself with grace, and I aspired to be like him someday. I was thrilled that he seemed so damn happy with West, and I could understand why. West was a pretty cool guy.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for Kam to get his fingers unstuck to tell me what he wants for dinner,” I said, motioning to my screen. “Only has use of one hand.”

“Ah, got it, and you’ll probably give him shit about it later.” He grinned. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing for him, by the way.”

“It’s no big thing,” I replied with a shrug. “He’s a good friend, and it’s cool spending time with him.” As Tristan thumped my shoulder and turned to the day-care window to check on Brin, it was as if a light bulb had gone on over my head.

I liked spending time with Kam. I even looked forward to it.

We were pretty compatible, and under normal circumstances always had fun together. Huh. I wasn’t sure how many people I could actually say that about, but I definitely could about him. Kam was normally so driven and busy, but since the accident he’d seemed so glum, and it made me want to do something about it, to help him as much as I could.

I noticed how he’d perk up as soon as I walked through the condo door, and it made my chest feel funny. Like I was doing something good. Even if it was only because he needed human contact. In all the years we’d known each other, there had never been any animosity between us, even though I’d pissed him off or pressed him too hard on some subjects. But he didn’t take any shit and always pushed right back. Always told me when I was being a jackass. Which in turn made me want to be a better person. Fuck, why hadn’t I realized that stuff until now?

When my phone pinged, I looked down and grinned.

How about some burgers?

Really? You never request that.

Sometimes you need greasy goodness.

Truth. See you soon.

When I got to his place and let myself inside, I was surprised to spot him in a different location. He was sitting up on the couch, with his iPad in front of him, playing what looked like Solitaire.

“Well, look at you,” I remarked, placing the bag of burgers and fries on the counter. I noticed he had a new get well flower arrangement that must’ve been delivered sometime today. Pretty soon the dining table would be overrun with them. “Decided you had enough of the bedroom walls?”

“Something like that,” he said, tapping the screen. “Mostly sick of being incapable of doing anything.”

“Dude, the doctor said it would take a good month for your shoulder to feel better,” I said, removing the plates from the cupboard. “Why fight it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You try sitting around for a month.”

I snickered. “Bet you’re driving Jerome crazy.”

He had told me how much they’d been on the phone just the day before. But I got it. It was his business, and he was solely responsible for it. But he definitely had trouble delegating, and this downtime would be his cross to bear.

“Maybe a little,” he grumbled. “I hate missing work like this.”

“Want me to do anything for you at the shop? I could head over there and—”

He shook his head. “You do enough.”

“It’s not like you’re taking advantage of me—I volunteered, remember?” I replied, carrying the plates to the living room. “Tomorrow I’ll even go grocery shopping so you’re not eating all this fatty food. I know how you get about calories,” I continued, balancing the plate on his lap.

“Only when I’m training,” he mumbled.

He moaned a little around his first bite, and I couldn’t help staring at how his tongue flicked at his lips, chasing the ketchup. I shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Actually, Samantha made a trip to the store today,” he replied, nodding toward the kitchen. “Fresh fruits and vegetables. Had a salad for lunch. She got some other staples too, so maybe next time you need to get your butt in the kitchen and whip up some dinner.”

I chewed on a fry and made a face. “They always want me barefoot and pregnant.”

He chuckled. “You know I didn’t inherit my family’s cooking gene, so yours is liable to be better than mine.”

“We’ll see. I might just surprise you,” I said, not really remembering the last time I made something that wasn’t just a sandwich or frozen meal. “What else can I do for you?”

He swallowed the last bite of his burger and swiped at his mouth with the napkin I’d handed him. “Just this—your company is enough.”

Something warm slid inside my chest. “Sure you’re not sick of me yet?”

“Nope.” He shook his head and then met my eyes. “You sick of me? You’ve got to be. I’m—”

“Stop it. You’re not hard to be around,” I said, standing up and collecting our dishes. “Never have been. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he replied in a soft voice as he watched me walk to the sink and rinse off our plates.

After I loaded the dishwasher, I sank down on the couch beside him and flipped around the television. We landed on some older episodes of Will and Grace and grinned through a few funny scenes. At one point, his head bobbed as he drifted off to sleep. I tried to adjust myself so he could use me as a support. When his chin sank against my shoulder, I could feel his soft breath against my skin.

I tried not to fidget too much so he could remain comfortable, but I failed after a few minutes when my arm got cramped.

He roused and looked up at me in a daze. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about? It’s not like we’ve never slept near each other.”

“True,” he replied, stifling a yawn.

I pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead, and he met my gaze. There were things I wanted to say to him that we hadn’t talked through recently, and I supposed there was no time like the present.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty friend to you this past year.”

His eyebrows arched to his hairline. “How were you a shitty friend?”

“For one, by not respecting that you needed time when you broke up with John. I know he was your first serious boyfriend and it hit you hard.”

In high school, Kam had only dated girls. It wasn’t until we graduated that he told me he thought he was bisexual. Then he met Samantha and they had a child. He seemed to grow up really quickly after that—guess kids would do that to you. He was certainly way more mature than me.

“S’okay.” He adjusted his leg on the pillow he had propped on the coffee table. He’d managed pretty well on his own, I realized. “I know you’ve never been in love and didn’t really get what it felt like until Stewart.”

“Yeah, but was I really…in love?” I asked. It was something I’d been questioning lately. “That’s not what it’s supposed to feel like, is it?”

“Dunno,” he responded with a sigh. “Relationships are complicated, and all of them are different. I think your answer will come with time and experience.”

“Said in your best Yoda voice?” I smirked.

“Well, I am a few months older than you,” he said, scratching his chin.

I nudged his shoulder. “And you’ll never let me forget it.”

“So, what’s number two?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“You said that was number one.” He motioned with his hand. “So I figured you wanted to tell me another way you were a shitty friend.”

“You dick,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I thought about it another minute, then added, “Well, I did sort of ditch you a lot when I was dating Stewart.”

“He was jealous, right? Possessive?” he asked, and I nodded. “I had my suspicions.”

“Of anybody who wanted my time, even friends,” I supplied.

“Okay, I revise my answer,” he said, clenching his jaw. “That’s definitely not love.”

“I figured as much.” I sighed. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”