“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Exciting.”

“Oh, cool it.” Milly smacked his arm playfully. “Seriously. I think the guys’ll love going out on a boat. It’s definitely better than sitting in that stale office all day.”

“No,” Gannon clarified, glancing over at her from behind his glasses, “I think you’ll love going out on a boat. I think they’d prefer to be given the day off so they can go home and play World of Warcraft.”

“Shush!” Her eyes widened as though he’d taken the Lord’s name in vain. “How dare you speak of the enemy in my presence?”

Gannon laughed. She was incredibly loyal to Burgess Entertainment, insisting that any other gaming company paled in comparison.

“Fine,” he conceded. “They’d rather be home playing Rise of Vengeance.”

“Whatever,” she interrupted. “They shouldn’t be at home, period. They need to get out, experience life from the other side of those video game controllers.”

No matter what she said, Gannon knew he was right. The people he employed were hard-core gamers. When not at work, they spent their time behind a keyboard, immersed in the video game underworld. Their lives were online, not out in a boat. But he knew he could never convince Milly of that. She insisted that no one could be that humdrum.

They could. And they were.

Gannon knew firsthand. He was one of them.

However, she refused to believe him. He’d had more than one heated discussion with Milly, usually over dinner and a bottle of wine, about how someone could get addicted to games. She didn’t see it, and Gannon couldn’t explain it, so he didn’t bother to try.

“We should make sure they have sunscreen,” Milly mumbled, staring out the window. “And maybe hats.” Her head swiveled around, attention on him. “You, too. I think you need a hat.”

Gannon frowned. “I’m not wearing a hat.”

“What if your head gets sunburned?”

Gannon chuckled. “I go out in the sun all the time.”

“Walking to your car from the office doesn’t count,” she countered.

Eager to get off the subject, Gannon asked, “Don’t you have a date this weekend?”

Milly sighed, leaning back in her seat as though she’d been defeated. “Yeah. With Gary.”

Was it him, or did she sound a little disappointed? “What’s wrong with Gary?”

“Nothing,” she told him, sighing dramatically. “You need to turn up here.”

Gannon put on his blinker to exit the highway. “If nothing’s wrong with him, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he boring?”

“No. He’s a musician. Nothing boring about that.”

If she said so. “Is he ugly?”

“God no. He’s freaking hot.”

“Then what is it?”

“We have nothing in common,” she answered. “He’s a starving artist who craves the rock star lifestyle. While I’m … not.” Milly offered him a grin. “And while his stories are interesting, I don’t really care for them.”

“Then why’re you going out with him again?” Gannon cast a sideways glance her way.

“Because I can’t come up with a good enough excuse not to.”

“Well, then, by all means, suffer through it.”

Milly smacked his arm again. “Shut it. I’ll figure something out. What about you? You have any plans to date in the near future?”

Gannon shook his head. The last date he’d had was… Shit. Probably a year ago? Two years ago?

Holy crap. Apparently time flies when you’re … not dating.

Damn, now that he thought about it, that did seem like a long time. Not that he’d even given it a second thought. At least not when Milly wasn’t bringing it up. Dating wasn’t the most important thing in his life. Burgess Entertainment took up most of his time and could technically qualify as his significant other.

“One of these days,” Milly began, “you’re gonna meet a guy who’s gonna knock you right on that cute ass of yours.”

Gannon frowned over at her.

“What? Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean I can’t admire your cute buns.”

“My buns are not cute,” he blurted.

“Oh, they definitely are and so is—”

“Which direction do I go?” Gannon interrupted, desperate to cut her off. He’d heard this before, and as good as Milly was for his ego, he definitely didn’t want to hear it again.

“Take a right,” she told him, a wide grin splitting her face. “It’s a few miles down this road.”

Gannon was thankful they were close. The conversation had taken a weird turn, and he was more interested in getting this out of the way so he could get back to the office and do what he did best.

Work.

“I think you’ll like this place,” Milly commented. “And just wait till you see the guys who work here.”

Gannon’s head snapped in her direction. “What? What guys? You didn’t mention anything about guys.”

That smile.

Ah, crap. “Dammit, Milly.”

Gannon knew that smile.

Gannon feared that smile.

Three

Looking up at the clock, Cam shook out his hands, then leaned back in his chair and spun around to stare out the window overlooking the smooth, glassy water that seemed to go on for miles and miles.

Damn, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

He should be out there.

Spinning back around, he glared at his computer screen.

Not in here.

For the past two hours, he’d managed to focus on entering the monthly deposits into the system, comparing them to the rental agreements, and ensuring everyone was paid up for the month. It made his day when he only had to change the gate code for one renter who had yet to pay up. Hopefully, they’d see that person sometime this week and get squared away.

Handling the money and updating the books was a tedious task that he actually enjoyed doing most of the time. However, given the opportunity, he would’ve procrastinated in order to spend time outdoors.

It was what he did best.

Spending time outdoors, not the procrastinating. Although…

Okay, so sure, he wasn’t above looking for something more enjoyable than paperwork.

Thankfully, this side of the company was not his main focus—or even something he was particularly good at—but on the flip side, Cam preferred to keep up to date on the state of the business, and this allowed him to do that. They had an accountant who handled the details, but Cam made a point to update the books every week—okay, every couple of weeks … er … once a month, but who was counting?

The handheld radio sitting on his desk chirped.

“Hey, good buddy,” Dare announced in the crazy radio voice he loved to do, “anyone order up a side of bacon?”

Cam laughed.

“I repeat, we’ve got bacon.”

Cam grabbed the radio and hit the button. “Roger that.”

While he’d worked, Cam had listened to the radios chirp endlessly as Roan, Dare, and Teague bantered back and forth while they’d handled the incoming appointments and prepared the boats for the afternoon. And now, according to Dare’s non-PC announcement, it looked as though Cam’s father had arrived. Dare found it amusing to refer to Cam’s father as bacon because he was a retired police officer. Michael Strickland was a good sport and he took it all in stride. It helped that Dare really did have the utmost respect for the man.

Hearing the delayed door alarm, Cam closed his laptop and looked up as his father appeared in his office doorway looking every bit the sturdy presence he’d always been in Cam’s life.

“Is he still callin’ me bacon?” Michael asked, his grin causing the skin beside his dark blue eyes to crinkle.

“He is,” Cam confirmed. “Good mornin’, Pop.”

“Mornin’,” his father replied, his rough voice reflecting years of smoking. His father’s thick salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, the white bushy mustache over his lip could’ve used a bit of a trim, and yes, he was smiling. He looked good, relaxed.

Leaning back in his chair, Cam studied him. “What brings you by?”