Different backgrounds, different paths, but one thing remains solid, even eight years after they graduated—their friendship. Holidays, weddings, funerals, birthdays, parties—any chance they get to meet up, they take it. It’s an opportunity to share what’s going on in their lives, especially their love lives. Back in high school, they knew four of them were gay or bi, so maybe it was more than coincidence that they gravitated to one another.

Caleb Masterson is, by all accounts, a successful adult. He graduated college, found a job he loves, and has a place to call home. Unfortunately, he knows what he desires in a relationship is considered too “high-maintenance” for most men and he has decided to not even bother looking. He’s happy with his decision until a sexy man with salt-and-pepper hair limps into his physical therapy office and turns his world upside down. Careful attention to detail and a need to be in control have helped Travis Barton become the owner of a successful construction company.

The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart. All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch. Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me. But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?

I never thought a night out could change everything. All I wanted was to dance, drink, maybe take a cute guy home for a night of fun. I met the guy, but the night ended as a nightmare. Screams and blood and tragedy haunt my dreams. I'm alive and I owe it all to the gorgeous marine who refused to leave me for dead. But how can I start a new relationship when I'm not even sure who I am anymore?

Between running a garage full of beefed-up gear-head mechanics and bailing my idiot brother out of trouble every other week, the last thing I have time for is a relationship. I’ve tried it too many times, and the ridiculous reasons I always find to end it have become a running joke around the garage. But I’ve learned my lesson. No. More. Boyfriends. I don’t care how many times Porter falls asleep drunk in my bed or how cute he looks covered in oil smears while I teach him how to fix up the vintage car he has rusting away in his garage; I’m not going to fall for him.