you.”
He groaned. “Whatever. Being attracted to the same sex is something you pretty much know from a young age.”
“It’s not sudden, and I’m not gay. I like women too. And you.”
Eric dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. “Bridge . . . you’re killing me here.”
“I’ve been with a man before.” Bridge’s voice was quiet, conspiratorial sounding. “Once, in college, and it was seriously hot. You’re the first person I’ve ever told, by the way. But then I met this girl and just figured I was straight, mostly, so everyone else thought the same thing. I met a few guys over the years that I thought were hot, but none made me want to act on it.” Bridge took a step closer, eating into the space Eric had put between them. “And then you came along, and you make me want to act on that. You’re all I can think about.”
Bridge tossed his cowboy hat onto the cooler by the trailer and took another step forward. “Tell me I’m not alone here.”
You’re not!
He looked up into Bridge’s eyes, at the naked desire he saw there, the fervent anticipation. “It’s not that. We’re friends. Good friends, and I value that too much to risk losing it, losing all of you guys, if we cross that line and it doesn’t work.” He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the dimming flare of hope in that gold-flecked gaze. “And you know, like, you don’t move in with your best friend from high school because that’s the fastest way to destroy your friendship. So getting romantically involved with your best friend is kind of the same deal.”
Bridge frowned. “Kent and I bought a ranch together when we finished college. It’s been six years. And we’ve been best friends, hung out pretty much every day of our lives, since we were in diapers.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best example. “So, you’re the exception to the rule.”
Bridge smiled. Slow and seductive, confusing the signals in Eric’s brain almost as effortlessly as touching him had. “No reason we can’t be an exception to the rule too.”
“But it’s still not a good idea because we’re good friends, and far too often, a sure way to fuck up a good friendship is to, well . . . fuck it up.”
“Okay. I’ll give you that, in some cases. But sometimes best friends make the best roommates, like Kent and me. So it stands to reason that sometimes best friends can also make the best lovers.” Bridge took another step, putting himself so fully in Eric’s space that the heat radiating off the man’s solid frame drifted over him like a summer-morning mist. Then the expression on Bridge’s face changed, closed somehow. His eyes hardened, and he retreated a couple of steps. “Sure. I get it.” He bent to collect his hat and settled it back on his head. “Some friendships are too valuable to fuck up.”
“Yeah.” Eric’s chest constricted, his lungs squeezing tighter instead of relaxing in relief. That was what he wanted, right? To stay friends, and only friends. So why did Bridge agreeing to let it go gouge his insides like this?
Bridge moved to walk around him, and Eric fought harder than he’d thought he’d have to not to reach out for the man. Bridge kicked dirt onto the last glowing ember in the fire pit, ensuring it was completely out. Eric frowned. Why couldn’t his attraction to Bridge be so easily doused?
When Bridge turned around, Eric was still standing there, watching him. His face in shadow, but somehow clearer. The more Eric had argued about not wanting to risk their friendship, the more he saw it for the lie it was. Eric’s eyes, his body language, told a different story. Something had Eric spooked, that much he could tell, but the idea that he wouldn’t even give them a shot rankled Bridge. Maybe it was a bad idea, but what if it wasn’t? And right now, the way Eric stood there looking at him like a steak he wanted to dig into did nothing to convince Bridge they could ever stay just friends.
And then Eric’s
He groaned. “Whatever. Being attracted to the same sex is something you pretty much know from a young age.”
“It’s not sudden, and I’m not gay. I like women too. And you.”
Eric dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. “Bridge . . . you’re killing me here.”
“I’ve been with a man before.” Bridge’s voice was quiet, conspiratorial sounding. “Once, in college, and it was seriously hot. You’re the first person I’ve ever told, by the way. But then I met this girl and just figured I was straight, mostly, so everyone else thought the same thing. I met a few guys over the years that I thought were hot, but none made me want to act on it.” Bridge took a step closer, eating into the space Eric had put between them. “And then you came along, and you make me want to act on that. You’re all I can think about.”
Bridge tossed his cowboy hat onto the cooler by the trailer and took another step forward. “Tell me I’m not alone here.”
You’re not!
He looked up into Bridge’s eyes, at the naked desire he saw there, the fervent anticipation. “It’s not that. We’re friends. Good friends, and I value that too much to risk losing it, losing all of you guys, if we cross that line and it doesn’t work.” He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the dimming flare of hope in that gold-flecked gaze. “And you know, like, you don’t move in with your best friend from high school because that’s the fastest way to destroy your friendship. So getting romantically involved with your best friend is kind of the same deal.”
Bridge frowned. “Kent and I bought a ranch together when we finished college. It’s been six years. And we’ve been best friends, hung out pretty much every day of our lives, since we were in diapers.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best example. “So, you’re the exception to the rule.”
Bridge smiled. Slow and seductive, confusing the signals in Eric’s brain almost as effortlessly as touching him had. “No reason we can’t be an exception to the rule too.”
“But it’s still not a good idea because we’re good friends, and far too often, a sure way to fuck up a good friendship is to, well . . . fuck it up.”
“Okay. I’ll give you that, in some cases. But sometimes best friends make the best roommates, like Kent and me. So it stands to reason that sometimes best friends can also make the best lovers.” Bridge took another step, putting himself so fully in Eric’s space that the heat radiating off the man’s solid frame drifted over him like a summer-morning mist. Then the expression on Bridge’s face changed, closed somehow. His eyes hardened, and he retreated a couple of steps. “Sure. I get it.” He bent to collect his hat and settled it back on his head. “Some friendships are too valuable to fuck up.”
“Yeah.” Eric’s chest constricted, his lungs squeezing tighter instead of relaxing in relief. That was what he wanted, right? To stay friends, and only friends. So why did Bridge agreeing to let it go gouge his insides like this?
Bridge moved to walk around him, and Eric fought harder than he’d thought he’d have to not to reach out for the man. Bridge kicked dirt onto the last glowing ember in the fire pit, ensuring it was completely out. Eric frowned. Why couldn’t his attraction to Bridge be so easily doused?
When Bridge turned around, Eric was still standing there, watching him. His face in shadow, but somehow clearer. The more Eric had argued about not wanting to risk their friendship, the more he saw it for the lie it was. Eric’s eyes, his body language, told a different story. Something had Eric spooked, that much he could tell, but the idea that he wouldn’t even give them a shot rankled Bridge. Maybe it was a bad idea, but what if it wasn’t? And right now, the way Eric stood there looking at him like a steak he wanted to dig into did nothing to convince Bridge they could ever stay just friends.
And then Eric’s
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