Since Collin’s death, Mark had had sex three times, all one-night stands with men he’d picked up at a gay bar in West Hollywood. He didn’t go there often and hadn’t been there in over a year, but those three times he had felt particularly lonely and wanted a hookup.
Before he’d looked up at Nathan’s barbecue to see a short brunet pixie impishly staring at him and asking him out, Mark had begun to wonder if he had banished himself to a lifetime of self-applied hand jobs and loneliness.
His cell phone chirped to life and for a moment crushing disappointment settled over him. It was Drew canceling on him. Mark just knew it. He picked it up and saw the caller ID and instantly let out the heavy breath he’d been holding.
“Hello, Nathan. I was expecting your call.”
“You were?”
He grinned and reached into his kitchen cabinet for a wooden bowl for the salad he’d be serving. “Yeah, as soon as Barnaby saw us I knew he’d be blabbing to you. How could he help himself?”