Page 78 of Whiskey Neat

“Yeah.”

“Oooh, not even going to defend yourself?”

I turn to look at my friend. “About what?”

“I said you’re whipped. Not gonna deny it?”

Shrugging, I exhale. “Can’t. He tastes like candy and sunshine. You’d be whipped too.”

“Gah, lucky bastard. I’ve been striking out left and right lately.”

“Yeah? Where are you meeting guys?”

“Apps, bars. Whatever. It feels like…” His words trail off as he gestures vaguely. “I don’t know, man. It’s almost like I can’t find the right person to scratch my itch.”

“Are you still going after young dudes?”

He shrugs. “Youngish. I’m not looking to fall in love, right? I just need to bust a nut, and even that’s been harder than it should be. I keep meeting guys who want to smoke or play games first or call me Daddy.” He shudders. “I need a shirt that says ‘Don’t call me Daddy.’”

I laugh, shoving his arm. “It’s all the rage these days, I hear.”

“It is. The college guys are looking for sugar daddies. I just want to get laid.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and suggest maybe aging up a bit.”

“I’m trying, but the thirty to forty group is lacking too.” He looks at Low and Salem for a second. “Although, your dream man walked right into the bar.”

The part of me that would have immediately jumped to say Salem isn’t my dream man is silent. I guess he is in a lot of ways. He’s definitely my physical type, and though he’s far from submissive and soft, his hardness melts whenever I get my hands on him. He challenges me and I kind of like it.

“Yours is out there somewhere, Kit.”

“Maybe. When are you guys gonna make it official?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude.” Kit rolls his eyes.

“Seriously. I don’t know what you mean. We’re seeing each other and not hiding that.”

“When are you gonna lock him down, Indy?”

I pull my head back slightly. “I’m not? We like things how they are. No pressure, no commitment. It works for us.”

He nods, searching my eyes. “My mistake.”

Before I can say anything else, voices from up front catch my attention, and Kit and I walk out to see what’s going on.

My face falls when I see the man talking to one of the construction crew workers. I remember him as Salem’s former friend.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah, I was looking for Salem. He told me to stop by.”

My chest tightens as heat spreads through me. And not good heat. The about-to-lose-my-fucking-cool kind of heat.

I turn on my heel and stomp down the hall and into the office. “Salem.”

His head snaps up from my tone. “Yes?”

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