Chapter 1
Ren had been on many dates during his twenty-six years, but none of them had ever been this bad.
It wasn’t that the guy was ugly.
He wasn’t boring, either.
He was also making a decent effort at being charming and funny, and Ren knew that a few months ago, he’d have enjoyed the evening, gone back to this guy’s apartment or his house or his loft downtown—it was at this moment that Ren realized he didn’t even remember this particular dude’s name—and had some perfectly satisfactory sex.
The guys sitting across from Ren hadn’t changed.
Ren didn’t even think he had changed.
What had changed was sitting across the bar, in the corner, having a quiet drink with Lennox and Ash, conveniently right in Ren’s line of sight.
Every single fucking time Ren tried to actually get into the conversation, or dig deep to find some shred of interest, Seth was right there.
To Seth’s credit, he wasn’t normally right there.
No, normally his interference was only in Ren’s head.
But tonight, fate had apparently decided to be an extra bad bitch, and make sure Seth was in the one spot at the entire bar where there was no way that Ren could ignore him or shove the thought of him to the side.
“. . . and that’s why he told me he was the best at hackey sack.
” The guy stopped with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes, and Ren assumed this was the end of the story, and he was supposed to laugh at .
. . well, at something. But since he hadn’t been paying attention, he had no idea if it had actually been funny.
He dredged up a half-hearted chuckle.
It wasn’t this guy’s fault that he’d drawn the unluckiest hand, and this date was fated to be a bust.
The guy laughed heartily at his own joke. “Wasn’t that hilarious?” he asked, like he needed to remind Ren that he was making an effort.
“Hilarious,” Ren echoed.
He had a feeling that even if it had been hilarious, he wouldn’t have found the story particularly funny.
Ren sighed, and leaned back, shoving a hand through his carefully styled hair.
Something he’d never do if this was a date that he actually wanted to succeed.
Not that he needed flawless hair. He knew he was really attractive, and was lucky enough to be really attractive even when he didn’t make any effort whatsoever.
Which was why he tried never to rest on pretty.
“Have you ever played?”
“Hacky sack?” Ren questioned.
There was no way he was going to end up going home with this guy. He couldn’t even remember his name, not with Seth sitting right over there.
Taunting Ren with his rejection.
The guy opposite him, nodded. Way more engaged than Ren could hope to be.
“Listen, I need to be honest,” Ren said. There was no point in letting this guy work this hard. He was asking about hacky sack. Ren wasn’t a freaking emotionless monster.
He felt . . . things. Not love. At least not ever in a romantic way—because he definitely loved his cousin Gabe and his mom and his whole extended family—but he’d gotten used to not feeling it for any of his hookups.
He’d barely ever been tempted to hook up with the same guy twice.
But that didn’t mean he was callous or a monster.
The guy’s smile gleamed in the muted light of the Funky Cup. “Honesty,” he said, “is always the best policy. Your place or mine?”
Ren ran another hand through his hair. It was probably standing straight up now. It took work and effort to tame the dark curls he’d gotten from his Italian parents. But this guy didn’t seem deterred in the least.
“I mean,” Ren said, leaning closer and lowering his voice, because he was also not into humiliation kink, “I should be honest that this isn’t going to work out.”
He tried to school his expression into something like resigned regret as the guy stared at him incredulously.
“What?”
“It’s not you, it’s me?”
The guy rolled his eyes.
“Do you actually buy any of this bullshit you’re spouting?”
“I said I wanted to be honest.” Ren met the guy’s narrowing gaze without flinching. “This is me being honest. I told you I would be, when we met.”
“You also told me we’d go on a date, and there wouldn’t be any strings.” He had. He usually did. It was always better to be up front about his complete lack of interest in a boyfriend or a relationship or love.
“Me telling you that this isn’t going to work out is a string?” Ren questioned.
“No,” the guy said, “the whole point wasn’t any strings, but I at least expected to fuck you at the end of all this effort.” He waved, like meeting Ren at a bar and then buying him a drink was a “lot of effort.”
Ren didn’t roll his eyes but that took effort. He already knew the guy wouldn’t appreciate just how much it took—especially if he thought buying a drink was a significant enough effort to get Ren into bed.
“Well, I’m sorry,” Ren said. “I’d suggest a do-over, but I have a feeling this ship has sailed.”
“No fucking kidding,” the guy grumbled as he stood and dramatically stalked over to the door.
This would’ve, Ren thought as he nursed the rest of his drink and heard the door slam behind him, been a hell of a lot easier if he’d actually remembered the guy’s name.
It was embarrassing that he hadn’t. That he still didn’t.
He wasn’t one of those guys who slept with everything that moved, and didn’t give a shit.
He enjoyed the dates and the slow burn of anticipation, always. Even stayed friends with a lot of his hookups. He just didn’t feel the need to revisit any of them. To deepen the connection.
Gabe had told him that he’d gotten stuck in a rut . . . and well, maybe that was why Seth’s rejection had stung so badly.
By turning him down, Seth, Ren decided with annoyance, had ruined everything.
Even him.
He did not appreciate it.
And on cue, because he apparently knew how difficult he’d made everything, Seth met Ren’s eyes and tipped his glass in his direction.
That did it.
He was fucking done with this bullshit.
Ren stood and he did not stalk dramatically over to where Seth was sitting with his business partner, Lennox, and his boyfriend, Ash, but he walked with a purpose. Because he most definitely had a purpose.
It wasn’t his fault that most of the eyes in the place followed him.
He was used to it; he could hardly complain about being attractive, but sometimes it got old to always be the center of attention, even when he didn’t want to be.
He stopped in front of Seth.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, between clenched teeth.
Also not something he’d ever do when faced with a guy he wanted to sleep with. But they’d clearly established that Seth was an exception to just about every rule of Ren’s.
Except one.
He wasn’t going to have a relationship with the guy, just to get underneath him.
“Well, hello, Lorenzo,” Seth said, all innocence. Like he had no idea that he’d just ruined Ren’s date.
He doesn’t know he just ruined your date, he’s just being nice, his brain informed him, but he pushed the logical truth away. He didn’t want to hear it right now.
He also ignored the fact that Seth was the only one who ever called him Lorenzo, and somehow he made it about ten syllables long, each one sexier than the last.
“Hi,” he said shortly. “I need to talk to you.”
Seth smiled.
He wasn’t the hottest guy Ren had ever seen.
Or the most charming.
Or the funniest.
But somehow his grayish-green eyes, his close-cropped auburn hair, and rather ordinary features had taken up residence in every single one of Ren’s dreams.
It was unfair, but it was finally time to get this guy out of his head, for good.
“You said, so talk,” Seth said. He was straightforward. It would’ve been refreshing, except for the straightforward rejection he’d given Ren last time they’d had this conversation.
Despite the fact that Ren had told himself, very explicitly, that he would never be making a second offer, here he was again.
“I think we should have sex.”
See, Ren congratulated himself, you didn’t ask, so it wasn’t an offer. Instead, you made sure it was a strongly worded suggestion.
Lennox had been taking a sip of his beer and he choked on it, starting to cough. He might be dating Ash, who had loosened him up, but he still had that closed-off vibe to him.
No doubt he wasn’t used to people making such obvious propositions in front of him.
But Seth didn’t say anything, just smiled, slowly. “Oh, we should?”
“We should.”
Ren had marched over here with almost no plan, messed-up hair, that single sentence, and a burning need to make Seth accept his offer.
Except Seth did not look particularly receptive. He looked kind. He looked sympathetic.
Ren wanted to fall to the floor and crawl out the door. One rejection had been humiliating enough. He hadn’t even gotten the second one yet, and already it was worse.
Why had he thought this was a good idea?
Oh, that’s right. Desperation. Because that always led to reasoned decision-making.
“Are you saying you want to go on a date with me?” Seth asked.
Ren nearly nodded, but then remembered the trap.
He and Seth considered a “date” very different things.
Ren saw a date as a fun way to pass an evening before he enjoyed a satisfactory sexual encounter. Seth saw a date as a stepping-stone on the way to a relationship.
“You know what I’m saying,” Ren said. Nobody could blame him for not being crystal clear.
He’d never try to fool Seth into bed with him.
Because that was a heinous thing to do, yes, but also because he wasn’t desperate enough to miss the hints of steel hiding behind those kind gray eyes.
You did not fuck with this guy and live to tell about it.
He and his best friend and business partner, Lennox, were both ex-military and probably knew a couple hundred ways to kill a man.
“What you’re saying is clear, but what I don’t understand is why you’re saying it.” The words were trademark Seth—brutally honest with a veneer of kindness that would fool you if you weren’t paying attention. He finished his drink and set it down on the table with a click.