“Uh, absolutely. Keep chopping, my sexy Marine lumberjack.”

When he did, Ian just laughed.

When Gryphen swung the ax, and the wood went flying, Ian fanned himself.

“Is it hot out here? I think summer in Scotland turned on suddenly.”

When Gryphen turned, the sweat glistened on his chest, and the flush of red from swinging the ax was definitely a sight to be seen.

There was nothing sexier than the chest hairs popping up over the wife beater tank top.

Because he could, Ian let his gaze slip down his body to his tapered waist, and the big bulge in his pants that proved he was happy to see him.

Ian wasn’t the only one with a suspicious case of morning wood.

“Jesus, man. Coud you be any hotter?” Ian asked. “Freaking Graham is inside fantasizing about this, and I can’t blame him. This is something I won’t be able to unsee for the rest of my life.”

At his words, Gryphen rested the axe on his shoulder, and stared at him.

“Pardon? What’s that mean?”

He explained.

“I have news for you, Gryph. If he’s going to try and get horizontal with one of us, or vertical in a closet, it’s not with me. It’s with you. He’s into rugged men, not more feminine ones.”

He stared at him.

“What?”

“He’s gay, and he and I share a type,” he said, pointing at the man. “You’re it, hot Marine.”

Well, that was news.

Good news.

Only, he was doing battle with a whole other issue.

Gryphen took the travel mug of coffee, and that need to protect Ian rose up in him.

Why?

To find that information out, that meant one thing, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Ian had been alone in the house with the man. They’d spent time together.

Now, he was feeling feisty.

“And how did we acquire that information, Mr. Patterson?” he asked, lifting his brow.

“Uh, I just had a conversation with him, alone in the…”

And then he realized what he said.

Shit.

His Marine asked him to do one thing, and only one thing. It was to not be alone with the man.

Oh, boy.