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be? C’mon, we’d better finish and get out of here before that woman brings friends with pitchforks and torches.”
    * * * * *
    “So what’s first?”
    Looking up from the grocery bag he was emptying, Pete eyed him quizzically.
    “What?”
    “For the house,” Trevor elaborated. “What’ll you fix first?”
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    “The basics on the bedrooms, I think,” Pete answered slowly, looking around as he spoke. He hadn’t really had the time to plan it out yet. The kitchen needed a makeover but everything was more or less functional, so that could wait. “Get the floors refinished and paint the walls, so we can get some beds in there.”
    Trevor nodded without making eye contact as he stacked cans in one of the cupboards. “You know what you’re doing?”
    “Sure.” Pete put the milk into the refrigerator. “My dad is a contractor. I worked for him every summer since I was old enough not to nail my hand to a floor joist until…”
    “Until?” Trevor prompted when Pete trailed off.
    “Um, until I got a d-different summer job in college,” he finished, staring at the carton of eggs he held.
    Trevor looked at him. “Trying to cook those with your eye laser beams?” he finally asked when the silence had stretched out for several seconds.
    “Hmm?” Pete blinked, shook his head and stuck the eggs into the fridge. He frowned. It’d been years since he’d thought about that miserable summer between his sophomore and junior years in college.
    “Never mind,” Trevor said, fiddling with an apple. “Could I… I mean, I could help, if you want.”
    “Good thing you volunteered,” Pete told him, grinning. “I would’ve drafted you otherwise.”
    “Either way, I’m your slave, huh?” As if he’d just realized what had escaped his mouth, Trevor flushed and turned his head to the side.
    With the image of Trevor as his obedient sex slave, it took several deep breaths before Pete could speak again. Even then, his voice sounded rusty. “Looks like it.”
    They put away the rest of the groceries in silence.
    * * * * *
    “I think we need to make a list.” Pete turned a circle in the bedroom where he’d tossed his sleeping bag.
    “Of?” Trevor slouched in the doorway, his hands jammed in his pockets. Grinning, Pete raised an eyebrow. “Practicing to be a Gap model?”
    Trevor flipped him off.
    Ripping his eyes away from the sulky, golden temptation, Pete tried to focus. “A list of what we need to get. I have my basic tools but we’ll need to rent a drum sander and a buffer. Oh and I’ll need to buy some wood putty.”
    “Plates,” Trevor added. “Pans, glasses, silverware, shower curtain, beer…”
    As he patted his empty pockets, Pete made a face. “Paper for lists.”
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    With a snort of laughter, Trevor pushed away from the wall. “Let’s just go. We’ll grab things as we see them. Does this shit town have a home-supply store?” At Pete’s incredulous look, he sighed. “Right. Stupid question.”
    “Actually, there’s one about fifteen miles north in Benson, right next to a Target,”
    Pete told him, looking around one last time. “We’ll need some sort of window coverings.”
    Examining the tip of his shoe, Trevor muttered, “Can’t have the neighbors watching our wild orgies.”
    “Or our lack of them,” Pete said, staring out the uncovered window. “These windows need replacing too.” He shook himself and headed toward where Trevor blocked the door. “Okay, let’s go,” he ordered, giving Trevor a small push. “We won’t get anything done staring at the walls.”
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    Chapter Three
    As he stepped out the front door, Pete stopped and swore.
    “What?” Trevor asked from behind him.
    “Forgot about the porch,” he grumbled.
    “That’s ’cause you weren’t the one who fell through it.”
    Pete shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Did you think it was a good idea to put all your weight on the spot right next to where a suitcase fell