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That’s the only word I could summon. I felt like the Neanderthal he’s always accused me of being then, with just two brain cells and a dick that was confused as hell. He chattered on and on about his shower not draining, or the spider in his closet, or whatever. And I stood there, wide-eyed and horrified, because I checked out my best friend’s little brother. Never fucking mind that he’s a dude, and I had never checked out a dude a single time in my life up until that moment.

Well, I definitely have now.

That following week, I checked out just about every masculine-presenting person I came across. And I liked more than I had ever realized.

I liked a person with a close-trimmed beard. I liked dudes with slightly longer hair, on the petite side. Though muscles could do it for me, too. I felt like I was going crazy. Sure, I had always been able to look at someone and recognize when I thought they were attractive, but this was fucking different. So, so different.

I had sex with multiple women in a sleazily short amount of time, just to make sure my dick still worked like it always had.

It worked overtime. But it…felt different.

I went to regular bars. Then gay bars. It was a few weeks before I allowed a tall, leggy brunette man to pull me into a darkened corner for a kiss. A kiss that I only broke because my phone rang, and it was Baby B on the screen.

I won't even get into the mess of emotions I felt leaving the bar, the taste of some other dude on my tongue. I left the guy without a word, like an asshole, gut churning while the call rang out in my hand.

Guilty.

I had no reason to feel guilty, but I did. Like I was committing some great betrayal. I chalked it up to sneaking around, checking out dudes, and trying to figure out what the hell was going on with my head.

Seeing Emery did not help.

Not at all.

Pretty baby B, all dolled up.

Sassy Emerson, ready to annihilate with his razor-sharp tongue.

Emery, with batted lashes and hands folded in front of him, playing innocent so I would fix something he could just call maintenance for.

It didn’t matter what version of him I was put up against; I lost every damn time.

I envisioned pushing him up against walls. Sucking his glossed, pouty bottom lip between my teeth. I fantasized about what sound he might make if I ground against him like I wanted.

I felt deranged. Sick in the damn head, because this is Emery.

Emery.

And now that I’m back in his orbit, I’m right back where I was two years ago. Unable to stay away.

Emery pushes open the cabin door, glower already in place. I can’t help the ghost of a smile on my face. Especially when he finds me leaning against the wall in the living room, and he glowers harder.

“This better be important, Montgomery.”

“Why? Have another date tonight?” I ignore the way my gut clenches at the thought of him going out with someone and focus on the fact that he’s here now.

“Yeah. With my pj’s and trash TV.” Emery waves his hand around, glower smoothing out when he glances around the space. I hadn’t been lying when I told him it wouldn’t take too long to get the space ready for him to start helping. When you’ve spent years operating as a one-man show for most jobs, you learn to work efficiently.

“Huh,” he continues, stepping into the open space that’s the heart of the cabin. The open concept living room and kitchen definitely cut down on the time it took, too. Now I can practically see the mood boards and style ideas scrolling in Emery’s eyes as he takes it all in.

He has on skintight, dark wash jeans today. Tan clogs. A white button-down that’s more blousey than business, and his hair is up in a perfectly messy bun. I swallow, pivoting to watch him peruse the area that will soon be full of everything needed for a kitchen.

“Are you building the island? Because it will definitely need one—here,” he says, pointing. “And the cupboards, I’m thinking two-toned. Classy, but none of that boring shit. If Warren wanted boring, modern he should have called Zane.”

I swallow harder when he turns, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. He’s looking at the empty far wall like he can envision exactly what he wants it to look like.

Did I mention his jeans are skintight?

“Dill? Are you even listening to me?”