“I might not even let you leave the bed. How does that sound?”

“Oh fuck yes, please, oh fuck—” Then Shaw’s head came up, his eyes wide and glassy but focused somewhere else. Worry dampened the arousal shining under his skin, and he pushed North’s hand away. In a thick, drunken voice, he said, “Do you hear a dog barking?”

2

THE DOG IS FINE,” North said, trailing behind Shaw and trying not to take out his frustration—and his blue balls—on his boyfriend. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound fine,” Shaw said. He had pulled on a pair of platform espadrilles, with what looked like jute straps. The fishnet tank he wore looked like it belonged in a very, very gay strip club. But his face was set with concern as he peered at the curtained windows of the A-frame cabin. “What if the owners forgot about it?”

“They probably went swimming.”

Shaw went up on his toes, peering through a slit in the curtains. “And leave the dog locked up?”

“Maybe they went to dinner.”

“It’s five-thirty.”

“Some people eat dinner at five-thirty.”

“Yeah. They’re in nursing homes. Dinner comes as a mush that’s easy on the dentures. I think—” Shaw overbalanced on the espadrilles and fell.

Catching him, North grunted and said, “Maybe next time you could bring high heels.”

“Not to the lake.”

“How about stilts?”

“I don’t know how to walk on stilts.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“You’re mad,” Shaw said as he regained his footing. Looping his arms around North’s neck, he leaned in and kissed him on the corner of the mouth. “You think I’m being silly.”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to say about that? If I say you’re being silly, I’m an asshole. If I say you’re not being silly, I have to look for a damn dog.”

Shaw batted his eyes.

“You’re fucking manipulative for a hippy.”

Shaw kissed him, and this time, North kissed him back.

“You know what I think?” Shaw said.

“That I’m grumpy because you threw away everything in my apartment that had sugar.”

“It’s addictive. And a poison.”

“It’s my apartment, Shaw. I can put rat poison in my oatmeal if I want.”

“I think you’re grumpy because you’re worried about the dog, but I was the one who noticed.”

“I don’t get worried about dogs. They’re dumb, slobbery mutts, all of them. And I heard him barking first.”

“I think you’re worried about the dog and you don’t know how to express that worry, so you’re getting grumpy.”

“I’m grumpy because you’re a fucking tease and you always find a way to get away with it.”