Page 43 of Just Bromantically Invested

“What’s going on?”

“Had a call from Damien. He wants us to go and consult with him on something.”

Penn pauses in picking up his phone. “Like a job?”

“Maybe. He sent me an address.”

“Interesting …”

The address is in Maple Park, one neighborhood over from where we live in the GPD, and when we get there, from what I can tell from the access road, it’s a large house on a huge block of land.

Penn and I exchange a look. “Promising.”

“It is.”

Damien’s SUV with his firm’s branding is already waiting out the front of the house, so we let ourselves onto the property and follow the long path up the small hill. The grass is more wispy dirt than anything, and other than a few trees dotting the land, there isn’t much to look at. The house is something else though. Pretty and very old.

Damien steps out onto the wraparound porch as we get close. He’s got wavy brown hair, small lines by his eyes, and a clean-shaven square jaw.

“Hey, guys.” He shakes both of our hands with a strong grip. “What do you think of the place?”

I’m not sure if that’s a trick question, and I glance Penn’s way. He’s got his professional face on.

“Lots of potential. What were you thinking?”

Damien’s lips twitch with a smile he quickly covers. “So … remember when we got talking about Fever Ridge?” he asks me.

I’m immediately interested. “Yes …?”

Damien sweeps his hand over the view in front of us. “Welcome to Peach Acres.”

“Peach …” Penn trails off, clearly wondering where the peaches are.

I laugh into my hand, and poor Penn, because my professionalism is shot. “That’s an interesting name for it,” I say.

Damien shrugs, trying not to look embarrassed. “We’ve all got one.”

“I’m sorry,” Penn says, looking between us. “I think I’ve missed something.”

“I’m turning this place into a clothing-optional community.”

Penn’s eyes have never been larger. “What, umm, I didn’t know you were in, that, uh, business?”

“I wasn’t until I met Madden.” Damien lands a large hand on my shoulder. “Ever since we talked about it, I’ve been dabbling. I finally got up the nerve to visit Fever Ridge, and I loved it, but it’s so far away. I want something in Seattle. Right in the heart.”

“Umm, but isn’tallof Seattle sort of clothing optional?” Penn asks.

“It is,” I agree, “but even though it might be that legally, there’s a reason I don’t leave the house naked. People stare. It’s uncomfortable. I saw a video online of someone who was minding their own business, bag slung over his dick, and someone recorded it, and it went viral.” The thought of that guy being me is sickening. “It’s too much attention.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“I want somewhere people like Madden—and me too, I guess—can spend time and feel comfortable.”

My trips out to Fever Ridge are few and far between because it’s so far, and going to Howell Beach is great but isolated, and those are both places I have to find time for around my work schedule. “What kind of community are you thinking of?”

“That’s where I need you.” Damien brings his hands together. “You’re living the life, but every time I see you, you’re in clothes. What can I give you here that will make the world more accessible to you?”

It takes me way too long to work out what he’s saying. I cast my eyes over the land again, giving myself a second to take in the enormity of this space. “Dude, how rich are you?”

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