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sure if I’d get a hard-on or puke.
    Or hit something. Because I was pissed, and I couldn’t even begin to understand why. At myself? At Darren? Fuck if I knew.
    My mind kept wandering back to that moment when I’d casually asked him what kind of work had brought him to Tucker Springs.
    I’m a minister.
    Maybe that was the problem. It probably had something to do with the awkwardness from him this morning; I couldn’t imagine one-night stands with near-strangers of the same sex were encouraged in his profession.
    But deep down, something told me I’d still be this conflicted and weirded out even if he’d been all smiling and flirting this morning, and sent me on my way with the promise of a rematch. I hated that I’d let myself get this close to someone like him. I’d very carefully kept my distance from the religious crowd. They were welcome to their beliefs, but once badly bitten, twice extremely shy.
    Except he wasn’t like the others. And he was hardly the type to ostracize someone for being gay. He was way too good at giving head and getting fucked to have spent much effort shunning gays.
    But he was still a Christian. He was still a minister. He not only believed, he preached. He brought others into the fold. He couldn’t possibly fathom why I distrusted Christians in general and usually couldn’t stomach the idea of being in the same room with a clergyman.
    Yet I’d spent the night in the same bed with one. And I’d loved every minute of it. Every fucking minute. Just like I’d enjoyed the hell out of talking to him over a couple of beers. Last night was a perfect first date and first fuck, except for that one tiny little detail, and I . . . I didn’t know what to make of it. Any of it.
    The only thing that was clear at this point was that last night had been a mistake.

    Ink Springs was always open late on Friday nights, and it was quarter to ten by the time Lane and I were locking up the front door. We shot the shit for a few minutes, and then he drove off.
    I didn’t go upstairs right away. For the longest time, I stood in front of the door leading up to the stairwell. What if Darren was awake? Those walls were so thin I swore I could hear spiders walking through that hallway at night. If he was awake, he’d hear me. And then he might come out. And I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid he’d feel as uncomfortable and awkward as I did, or if he’d think nothing at all of what we’d done last night.
    I’d find that out when we finally crossed paths again. Obviously he could stomach sex with a man he’d just met. He hadn’t batted a fucking eye, at least not until the morning after. And he hadn’t been drunk. He’d been perfectly coherent and there hadn’t been a trace of whiskey dick in sight, so he’d known damn well what he was doing when he’d kissed me and then suggested going into his apartment.
    A minister who was down with casual sex and one-night stands. What the hell?
    Whatever. I wasn’t ready to face him yet, so I stuffed my keys into my jacket pocket and started down the sidewalk.
    Lights Out was only a few blocks away. When I got there, the bouncer checking IDs at the door gave me a nod and let me in without paying the cover. Sometimes knowing the owner of the place really paid off.
    Over the music, I shouted, “Jason around?” Of course he was. He was always here when the club was open.
    The bouncer pointed at the stairs. “Was in his office last I saw.”
    “Thanks.” I went upstairs and walked right past the Employees Only sign to a short hallway. Then I tapped two knuckles on the door to Jason’s office.
    “It’s open,” came the strained, tried reply. I grimaced. Someone was having a rough night.
    I pushed open the door. “Hey, man.”
    He looked up from a mountain of paperwork, and exhaled. “Oh, hey. How’s it going?”
    “Not bad.” I dropped into the folding chair in front of his desk. “What about you?”
    “Eh.” Jason rubbed his shoulder gingerly