Chapter 1

1

“Is that your phone?” Mason asked as the relentlessly upbeat electronic noise interrupted the movie.

Miguel pushed himself off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you just let it ring?”

Miguel shook his head. “No, I’m expecting a call from Pedra tonight. She emailed me this morning and asked if I would be free to talk.”

Mason frowned. “We had plans tonight.”

“We’re just watching a movie. It’s not that big of a deal. Pause the DVD if you’re worried about it.”

It wasn’t about the movie. Mason had seen it a dozen times, anyway—his DVD collection was not what one would call extensive. But it was the principle of the thing. He didn’t have family and friends and whoever else calling him when he made plans to spend the evening with Miguel. Mason would have pointed that out, except Miguel was already out of the room.

Mason turned down the volume, trying to catch Miguel’s side of the conversation. He might be able to gauge just how long Miguel would be on the phone, though it wasn’t an exact science. Mason once listened to Miguel talk to his sister about the proper way to cook eggs for nearly two hours. It was even worse when they were in the same room, especially since half their conversations seemed to consist of a secret language of gestures, grunts, and giggles.

“Oh…yeah, I know. Yeah…is he? How is Anton?”

Mason caught his breath. Anton.Pedra’s fiancé always lurked in the back of his mind. Caramel skin, black eyes, full lips, and the best body Mason had ever seen. It was lean, defined, hard with muscle that betrayed the years he had worked in construction as a carpenter. He turned the television up to drown Miguel’s voice and leaned against his pillows.

Mason was more than capable of admiring a body—male or female—without the admiration developing into a lust-fueled infatuation. But that was not true when it came to Anton. Mason had developed a strong hunger for the reserved man the moment they met.

And he had reason to believe Anton felt the same sort of desire for him. It seemed impossible, given that he was engaged to Pedra, he attended Mass every week, and he had probably only said eight words to Mason since Pedra introduced them. But Mason had something better than any dream or any fantasy. He had a memory, and his cock hardened the moment he brought it to the front of his mind.

He had used that memory to get off with Miguel more than once.

Miguel’s voice droned on. It only took a moment of consideration to make up his mind. He tossed the remote aside and rolled off the bed. Seconds later, he had the bathroom door locked behind him, and his shorts down around his ankles. Leaning against the sink, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft and closed his eyes.

* * * *

The Mexican sun beat down upon him, hot enough for Mason to feel the tips of his ears already starting to turn pink under the glare. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, dampening the collar of his T-shirt, and he bent his head, running his hand over his wet hair and down the tense muscles of his nape in an attempt to not feel so sticky.

A shadow fell across the ground in front of him. Feet followed. By the time he glanced up to see who was joining him on the porch, there was an ice-cold bottle of beer thrust into his face, condensation snaking down the dark glass.

“You look thirsty.” Anton wasn’t smiling, but his jet eyes were soft. He waited for Mason to take it before sitting down next to him, his strong thigh brushing lightly against Mason’s. “Miguel and Pedra are still discussing the arrangements.”

Mason took a deep swallow from the bottle. “Yeah. I guess there’s some disagreement over the final wishes. It’ll probably take them all night to work it out, knowing them.”

Anton held a second bottle of beer for himself. Mason hadn’t even noticed it until he sat down, but now, he couldn’t stop staring at the calluses that roughened Anton’s fingertips.

“What do you do when they start?” Anton asked.

Mason dragged his gaze away from Anton and shrugged. “Wait. There’s really nothing else I can do. What about you?”

“Work.” He nodded toward a small shed off to the side of the house. “Se?or Cantu lets me use it whenever I wish.”

“It sounds more productive than what I’m doing.” Mason looked up and kept his voice even and friendly. “Can you show me?”

Without a word, Anton stood and began walking, glancing back only once to indicate Mason should follow. In spite of the heat, the man didn’t sweat. He glowed. His burnished skin stretched over powerful biceps, even more powerful shoulders, and taunted Mason every step of the short path between the porch and the shed.