Stopping, Tate rounded back to see a sneaky grin come across her innocent-looking face. “Excuse me?”

She sidled up close and touched his hand, which was resting on the bench for support—or from the shock of the comment, he wasn’t sure.

Have I really been out of the dating game for so long that this shit is now normal to discuss?

“He’d let you join in with us.”

Tate swallowed once and shifted his feet, looking down at the small hand covering his. When he felt his cock harden, he wondered exactly which part of the scenario it was reacting to—the thought of Amelia naked, the invitation to a threesome, or the man who would watch him as he slid inside the woman now peering up at him.

Removing his hand slowly, Tate made sure not to say anything offensive as he shook his head. “Nah, not really my thing. After a bad relationship, lunch at my mother’s is about as much excitement as I can handle for a while.”

Amelia tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes as she giggled. “Maybe it’s time to let us corrupt you.”

Somehow, Tate figured she wasn’t the one who would do the corrupting. That particular person was missing for this conversation, yet somehow, his fingerprints were all over it.

“I don’t think so, but thanks for the, uh…invite.”

Just as Amelia was about to reply, a noise from the door had them turning to see four businessmen, mid-twenties, pile into the almost empty bar. With that, she turned to Tate and indicated with a tilt of her head that she would take them.

She gave him a quick wink. “No hard feelings. The offer is open.”

I’m sure it is, Tate thought, moving to the opposite end of the bar, but it’s a little too open for me.

* * *

Logan sat behind his desk, staring at the clock on the wall. It was just turning seven, and he could still hear a few people moving around in the outer office.

His weekend had passed by without too much incident. He’d heard briefly from his mother about her visiting in a few months, but as usual, she’d been all over the place, and she hadn’t officially given him a date. She was still deciding if she wanted to stay with the new boyfriend or come and see him for Memorial Day weekend. It was sad that Logan couldn’t even find the desire to try and convince her to pick him. He’d given up that fight a long time ago.

After the night with Amelia, he’d decided to skip the bar on Saturday to give Tate some downtime. Time to simmer.

Time was up though. It had been three days, and Logan was definitely heading there tonight.

Tate was a walking contradiction. Although relaxed and easygoing with others, he always became unsettled around him. And when Logan went out of his way to push a boundary, Tate either stood mute or pushed back. Not once, however, had he gotten overly angry or violent.

It excited Logan—just thinking about getting into an argument with him and ending it with Tate bent over something. Yes, the idea of grappling with Tate was a very appealing one.

As Logan was adjusting the hard-on in his pants, there was a knock on the door. Calling out for the person to come in, he was surprised when Cole stuck his head inside.

“Well, hello. What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have a hot wife to bed?”

Cole stepped inside and pushed the right side of his jacket out of his way, as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. “The hot wife is out with the girls, and I wasn’t invited. And Mason and Josh are watching football, which I hate.”

After making sure he was decent, Logan stood and made his way around to his business partner and half-brother. “Aw, and you’re lonely? Well, as flattering as it is that I am your last choice, I have something to do tonight.”

Cole raised a blond brow at him. “Something to do? Or someone?”

Logan didn’t take offense as he moved to the couch by the window. He picked up his gray jacket and shrugged into it. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Come on, you know you miss it.”

“Miss what? Hit-or-miss sex? No. Call me logical, but I much prefer having guaranteed hot sex with my wife whenever the hell I want it.”

Logan barely resisted rolling his own eyes, but he’d known Rachel for a long time now, and the woman was sexy, no doubt about it.

“Yes, well, there’s no need to be a show-off. It makes you ugly.”

Cole stood exactly where he was, silent as usual when he wanted something.

Logan grabbed his briefcase and sighed. “Okay, fine. Want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, you are desperate.”

“No, I’m not, and it’s been too long since we hung out.”

“Well, that’s true. Okay, I was heading down to After Hours. Does that work for you?” Logan moved past Cole and shut off the light.

Apparently it did, because that was where they turned up ten minutes later.

* * *

Tate had just finished with a rush of customers when a tall blond man took a seat at the end of the bar. Making his way in that direction, Tate was ready to take his order when the seat beside the guy was filled by—fuck—Logan.

The two men were chatting, and the blond must have said something particularly funny because Logan let out a loud laugh and slapped his palm on the bar top. Deciding to just suck it up and deal with the cards he was dealt, Tate stopped in front of the two just as Logan turned to him.

Tate made it a point to look at the blond. The guy could’ve been an actor or a model. He was so well put together. Like Logan, he was wearing a suit and palming a cell phone, but unlike Logan, his expression was the usual distant friendly one of a stranger sitting down for a drink. Tate didn’t think Logan had ever looked at him like that once since they had met.

“Hi. What can I get for you tonight?”

Tate waited as the blond brought his free hand to his chin. He rubbed it once and then looked to Logan.

“You getting your usual?”

Tate watched the exchange curiously.

“You know me, creature of habit.”

The blond laughed at that and turned back to Tate.

“I’ll have a scotch, thanks. Macallan, if you have it, and this guy will have a gin and tonic.”

Tate flicked his eyes to Logan’s, framed once again by black glasses.

“Anything to eat?” Tate hoped the spark he saw there didn’t mean he was about to be handed his ass.

“Nothing to eat,” Logan told him, and as Tate was about to move away, he added, “Right now.”

Choosing to ignore that, Tate turned away to grab the scotch off the back shelf, but he kept his focus on the two men in the mirror he was facing. Logan was angled toward the blond and was chuckling at whatever the much more serious guy had said.

He wondered how they knew each other. Maybe they work together? That’s the most logical explanation, Tate thought, until he saw Logan push the big guy’s arm and leave his palm on his bicep in a familiar fashion. Or maybe they are something altogether different. Lovers, maybe?

Turning back to them, Tate pushed the drinks across the bar top, and with a quick, “Thanks,” from them, that was it. Over, painless, easy—right?

Walking away from the men, Tate found that he was relieved, yet at the same time, he was also experiencing a different emotion, an emotion he didn’t understand—anger.

He was pissed-off. All of last week, this guy, this stranger, had decided to wreak havoc on his brain. Not to mention, all weekend it had bothered him and made him worry about coming to work today.

And now, this! Fucking nothing? After all that worry? But then again, did I want something to happen?

Logan was lucky that Tate wasn’t a violent man because, at that precise moment, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his fists to himself.