Page 4 of Something Unavoidable

“AndIthink that can be arranged.” Izzy put on his sexiest smile and stepped toward the guy—he should probably ask his name, not that he’d remember it—but a small hand gripping his elbow stopped him.

Eli. He looked down at his friend and got an exasperated eye roll in return. “You know the rules.”

Izzy sighed and held out his hand to his future hookup. “Wallet.”

Hookup blinked but fished a beat-up leather billfold out of his back pocket. Izzy took it and handed it over his shoulder to Hunter, who was waiting behind him at the bar.

Hunter flipped it open and pulled out the driver’s license, checked the photo against the guy’s face, then handed the wallet back. “We open at noon. You can pick it up then.”

Hookup’s eyebrows lifted and he looked like he was about to argue, so Izzy slid forward into his space, draping his arms over the guy’s shoulders. It didn’t take much more than the press of his hip against the guy’s hard cock to redirect his attention.“Fine,” the guy agreed, hand landing on Izzy’s ass and squeezing. “Worth it,” he murmured into Izzy’s ear once he’d had a feel.

Izzy grinned, drained his cocktail, and set the empty glass on the bar. He threw Eli a wink over his shoulder as he was manhandled toward the exit. Perfect start to the new year.

Izzy hunched his shouldersagainst the wind and clutched his paper cup of shitty coffee closer. The warmth soaked into his palms but barely put a dent in the bite of the January mountain air. It was supposed to snow again later. He took a cautious sip of his drink and grimaced. Ugh. This motel had the worst free coffee in town. The place a block over was a thousand times better, though the room rate was considerably higher. His hookup hadn’t splurged on accommodations.

Another gust of wind blew a swirl of dry, powdery snow off the roof of a nearby car. Izzy tugged the collar of his coat up higher and checked his phone again. Two percent. He’d have to plug it in as soon as he got home. Or maybe he could borrow Archer’s charger—if Archer showed up before Izzy froze to death.

He blew out a breath and replied to Eli’s check-in text with a thumbs-up, an eggplant, and a string of water droplet emojis.

Not that the sex had been that great. The guy—Mark, maybe? Or Mike? Whatever. He’d been just as wasted as Izzy, and his performance had suffered. It happened. It just meant Izzy had had to work harder than expected to get what he wanted. Four out of ten. Would probably do him again in a pinch, but most likely, he would give NYE-guy a pass.

It took Izzy a minute to realize the approaching thrum was an engine and not the lingering tinnitus or the throbbing of his brain against the inside of his skull. Fucking champagne.

Tires crunched against the gravel as Archer drove into the lot. His pickup was almost as old as he was and it showed, but Archer wasn’t interested in replacing it. He didn’t see the point in throwing something away just because it was old and not as pretty as it used to be—not that Izzy could remember a time when it had been pretty. It still got him where he needed to go. Izzy tried not to judge. Gift horses and all that.

Archer pulled to a stop, and Izzy hurried forward, pushed by another gust of wind. When he opened the door, Alice had already slid into the middle seat. Izzy climbed in next to her, making sure to leave some space between them. Alice wasn’t a fan of being touched most of the time.

“Thanks,” he said, shutting the door against the cold and sinking into the worn vinyl with a sigh.

Archer still reached out and flicked the heat higher. “Morning,” he replied, easily. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” Alice parroted.

Izzy lifted his coffee in salute to the twins, then took another sip. Still gross, but worth it. His headache was starting to fade.

“Did your fuck buddy kick you out?” Alice asked without looking up from her phone. She was scrolling an app he didn’t recognize.

After a moment of mental gymnastics that he wasn’t awake enough for, he realized she was asking why he’d been standing outside. “Nah,” he replied. “Just wasn’t in the mood for small talk.”

Alice nodded. She got it. She wasn’t a fan of small talk either, though for different reasons than Izzy’s.

As they turned onto Main Street, Archer reached behind the seats and came back with a thermos that had seen better days.Izzy couldn’t help the sound that left his throat. He rolled down the window to dump the crap coffee, then accepted the thermos. “You are my goddamn hero, Arch,” he said, groaning in pleasure as he refilled his paper cup with the dark, rich, life-saving nectar. Archer might not splurge often, but when it came to coffee, he got the good stuff.

Archer chuckled. “Figured you’d need it.” He returned the thermos to its hiding place, then draped his free hand along the back of the seat. Archer was every bit the classic cowboy in his heavy, wool-collared jacket, Wranglers, and boots. Alice was dressed much the same, though instead of cowboy boots, she had on rubber muck boots and had forgone her typical hat for a wool one that she had pulled down over her ears. Every once in a while, Izzy was struck by how good-looking the twins were. Aesthetics weren’t something that usually escaped him—especially when it came to men—but Archer and Alice were different. For one thing, neither of them had ever hinted at being interested in him that way, and for another, they were his friends first. Izzy didn’t fuck where he lived…or something like that.

The rest of the ride to the ranch was quiet as they all finished waking up after the late night. Izzy appreciated that. And the lack of judgment. Morning pickups had become routine the last few years. Izzy never drove himself when he went out—there was no point when he knew he wouldn’t be able to drive home. So he’d call Archer first thing, and the twins would swing by his bed-of-the-night on their way to work. Izzy thanked them by paying for gas and buying the drinks when Archer made it to the bar. It worked for Izzy, and Archer hadn’t complained yet.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, reminding him he needed to charge it. He pulled it out and snagged the cable dangling from the cigarette lighter. He wondered if kids these days even knew what the original purpose of those sockets was. Kids these days.Izzy amused himself sometimes. He was twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. How old were these kids?

As the phone came off battery-saver mode, it started to vibrate with notifications. Social media was alive and well this new year’s morning. Most of them were probably the standard, repetitive “Happy New Year” posts. He ignored those for now and opened his email instead.

Spam. Spam. Spam. Ads. Ads. Ads. A holiday newsletter from his parents. A calendar reminder to schedule his three-month blood screening—because he might fuck around a lot, but he wasn’t interested in the finding out.

Izzy paused, about to delete an email from an unfamiliar sender, when the preview text caught his eye, three words jumping out at him.

Joshua Martinandinterview.

He closed the app, unplugged his phone, and stuck it back in his pocket. He hadn’t had enough coffee for that shit. Honestly, there wasn’t enough caffeine in the state to make him willing to think about Josh Martin. The fucker could rot in hell.

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