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Scrubbing a hand across his face, he ruffled what felt like two days’ worth of scruff as he scratched along the underside of his jaw. Last week’s tenderness was long gone, and strangely, he found himself missing it, that tiny sting of whatever it had been.

“Shower and then coffee,” he muttered, heading into the bathroom. With hot water pounding down on his shoulders and back, he grabbed a handful of soap and began lathering himself all over, almost immediately frowning at a flare of pain. He approached the suspect spot again, fingers working along the crease of his thigh until, dipping between to soap his balls, he zeroed in on this new spot that felt strangely sensitive. A flash of his dream ran through his mind, and he shuddered at the thought of spiders, long legs walking across his skin. Shaking his head at the idea, he briskly finished with the soap, then rinsed and turned off the water, dripping for a moment before he stepped out to grab a towel off the stack. “Coffee needed, stat.”

Caffeine was definitely next on his list, because this was a Wednesday, and that meant a full staff meeting, which meant a snooze-fest if he wasn’t careful. Hitching the towel around his hips, he padded to the kitchen and thumbed the On button on the coffee maker before leaning in, palms flat against the countertop on either side of the machine. His chin dipped and he caught himself mid-nod, shaking his head to wake up.

Mug in place to catch the flow of the dark liquid, he stalked to the bedroom and stared at his bed for a moment. A muscle memory of the computer being removed from his hands swept through him, disconcerting in the way it failed to join with reality. Turning, he looked at the coffee table to see the closed rectangular shape of the laptop, exactly where he would expect to find it if he’d slept on the couch.

Carson glanced at the bed, covers all along one side rumpled from underneath where he’d woken. The other side held a concave impression, as if he’d lain on that side on top of the covers for a time, pausing there before he’d crawled beneath them. He closed his eyes and tried to drill back into his memories, finding the moment when the laptop was in his hands, and then simply wasn’t. Nowhere in his mind did he locate his transition from couch to bed. With a shake of his head, he glanced around the room, gaze landing on the pajama bottoms folded and placed squarely on top of his dresser. “Now that’s weird.”

He vaguely remembered being naked when he woke. Less vaguely, he remembered putting the soft cotton pants on before he’d taken the laptop to the couch.

The coffee maker sputtered in the other room, and Carson discarded the mystery of the disappearing pajamas in lieu of finding clothes to wear to work today.

***

“Well, you look better.” Carson glanced up and gave Drew a grin. “Glad you survived whatever it was, man.”

“Meh, it wasn’t that bad.” He rifled through the folder in front of him and pulled out a handful of printed photos, laying them face down on the desk. “Guess what I’ve got.”

“An original scroll from the Ming dynasty.” Carson snorted and shook his head. “Directions to the lost treasure of D. B. Cooper.”

“Jesus, you’ve got an imagination.” Drew grinned at him in appreciation. Carson shook his head as he tapped the photos. “I’ve got your lead shots for the puppy pen campaign. Meet Leelo and Trinity, and their most recent family of fluffy cuteness.” One by one, Carson flipped the photos over, showing Drew the adult dogs first, followed by image after image of their puppies frolicking through green grass. “And that”—he dusted his palms, watching Drew’s head dipped over the pictures—“is how you get shit done.”

“How in the hell did you find these? Are they licensed already? Any restrictions?” Drew lifted what Carson had been thinking of as the money shot, a pile of puppies playing in the foreground while the two adults looked on with loving tolerance. “These are...God, Carson. These are amazing.”

“They are, aren’t they?” With a grin, he flicked the corner of a different picture, one that held enough natural environment along one side for a hero slug. “I’m pretty proud of myself, I will say that.”

“And you should be. These are—” Drew paused and shook his head. “Perfect.”

“A local kennel had photos taken last spring. The photographer posted one of them the other day looking to lure new puppy parents in for a shoot. I called him first, angled my way into his pocket, then called the kennel and gained not only a release but a promise of first look at any additional photos they do. I proposed a budget to the photographer, and he was keen, and then I promised if we used them, we’d credit him, which increased the keenness, as you could expect.” He pushed back from his desk, still grinning at Drew’s face as he stared down at the images. “I think if we spiff the kennel a little green, they’ll be very inclined to feed us more pics. What do you say?”

“I say Carson’s the man today.” Drew flicked a smile at him, then was reabsorbed by the images. “Absolutely stellar job, man. Well done. Be ready to pull a late one, because with this as inspiration, I see us blocking out the whole campaign tonight.”

Carson stifled a tiny thread of irritation at Drew’s easy confiscation of his evening, then scoffed in exasperation at himself. Not like I’ve got a hot date waiting for me at home.

The memory of cool sheets sliding against his bare skin this morning made him huff out a breath of air, dick uncoiling at his hip.

Nope, nothing like a date.

Chapter Three

Carson

Another Friday night, Carson thought, leaning against the back wall of the bar as he watched the mass of people writhing on the dance floor. He brought the bottle of water to his lips and took a deep drink, sweat gathering at the small of his back. And I’m stuck as the DD. Snorting a laugh, he shook his head, then lifted a hand to flag down a passing server. Once he’d gained her attention, he held up the water and flicked up one finger, smiling when she nodded.

Looking around the packed room, he studied the shadowed faces for anyone he knew, coming up blank. Tim and Joe, two of his favorite coworkers, had sworn they had a friend who had a friend who’d raved about a new club that opened just a couple of weeks ago, but it was a spot Carson hadn’t heard of before tonight. Tucked into the warehouse district, while the exterior of the building had screamed abandoned, the line outside the door had put the lie to that perception.

A line that they had somehow jumped, being pulled out of the stacked queue of people by a massive bouncer. Strolling along the line, the man had paused to lean close and looked at Carson for a moment or two with flared nostrils before jerking his head sideways with a muttered “Come with me.” A pretty woman holding court over the eager attendees had also stared before drawling, “Oh, you’re going to have a good time tonight, sugar,” then had waived their cover fee. Two minutes later, their hands had been stamped with something that didn’t even show in blacklight, and the bouncer had tipped forwards into a mocking bow as he swept an arm towards the entrance. The three men had pushed through heavy fabric draped across the doorway and crossed into the darkened space inside.

The waitress approached and, as she had the other times she’d brought Carson a drink, stood removed, ensuring a good two feet of distance between them. Also per their previous interactions, she wordlessly waved off the money he held out as she passed over the cold bottle, careful not to touch him.

She tossed a cautious glance over her shoulder as she walked away, and Carson sighed, studying his surroundings again.

“What a weird night,” he mused quietly.

The club was comprised of a large, single room, packed full with the typical press of bodies everywhere—except around where he stood. Here there was a broad buffer of distance between him and the next groups of people. When they’d first walked through the club, Tim had joked that Carson seemed to be parting the seas, because people had moved out of their way, clearing a path first to the main bar and then to the wall. It had been only a matter of minutes before Tim and Joe had each been approached and asked to dance, but none of those women had even spoken to Carson. They’d looked, sure, so at least he knew he wasn’t invisible, but other than the waitress and the pair outside the building, not a single soul had interacted directly with him.

“How weird is it?” The voice came from close to his left, and he jumped. His hand tightened, closing hard around the bottle, and a jet of water shot out, hitting his chest.