“I have a favor to ask you,” Denver says, scratching the muscular area between his tank-covered pecs by using his left hand. Fingertips meet his left nipple, make the nub hard and pointed.

He wants to fuck me, Toby thinks, recalling what King had recently confessed to him in private. All Denver Rawlston talks about is slamming his cock in your tight ass. He says you’re the hottest guy in Templeton and wants you. It’s flattering, Toby knows, but it’s also gossip. As far as he’s concerned, what King tells him about events and peoples’ lives in their small town mean nothing, until proven otherwise.

Not that Toby wouldn’t fuck the freckled bear with his red hair and pumped chest. Toby might be a fool, but he’s not foolish. Denver is probably a prize in the sheets, among other places to screw. Hell yeah he would get rammed by the beefhead, physically and emotionally into a good fuck with the handsome ginger, calling their time together wanted pleasure.

“What’s the favor you need, Denver?” Toby asks, standing just a few inches away from the nutritionist, holding his coffee cup in his right hand and studying the leprechaun’s block structure, thinking it more desirable than Blue’s.

“You know I’m from Denver, right?”

Toby nods. “King and I call you Denver from Denver behind your back.”

“Cute,” Denver says, winking and grinning at Toby. “Well, my family lives there and I’m expected home for the Fourth of July, which means I’ll need someone to stay at my house.”

“The Tudor on Bretton Way, right?”

“The only Tudor on Bretton Way.”

“How long do you need me?”

“I need a house-sitter from tomorrow through the fifth. Any way you can help me out?”

Toby would like to help the jock out by finding out if he’s good in bed, has a long cock, and an even longer stamina while ramming a man’s taut ass with his dick, after sharing a few whiskey shots with him. Plus, a little cuddling wouldn’t hurt to analyze, of course, just to add some romance and flavor to the occasion. There’s no chance in hell this is going to pan out, though, so he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he rubs his chin, thinking about the Tudor on Bretton Way.

“Listen,” Denver says. “The place is all yours for four days. You can eat any of the food you can find in the place. I have a closet overflowing with alcohol for your pleasure. And I’ll even toss in a hundred bucks for your trouble. I just want to make sure the house won’t be broken into and that my cats are taken care of. What do you say?”

Toby thinks, I’d say you’re the sexiest damn man I’ve known for a very long time and that I have a little crush on you. That’s what I would like to say.

Toby doesn’t say this, though. Instead, he looks at the mound of private parts between the gingerhead’s inflated thighs, discretely and accidentally licks his upper lip with his extended tongue, and responds with, “Why are you worried about the Tudor? You live on a safe street.”

Both of them know that Bretton Way is safe with middle class families who live middle class lives. It’s not pretentious or poor. It’s locked in the middle of society with next to no crime, nice yards, and filled with American dreams.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. This is more about Karen and Valley, if you want to know the truth. They hate to be alone,” Denver admits. “I want to feel comfortable in Denver, knowing that someone will be watching my property and cats. What do you say, will you help me out or not, Toby?”

Toby usually isn’t spontaneous with anything in his life. But today is not an average day in the world of blogs and a handsome man named Denver who just happens to be from Denver, which means thinking before acting is out the window. This is why he says to the beefcake, “I’ll do it. I can write my weekend and holiday Bear Blog anywhere. Who knows, you’re Tudor and kitties may just provide me some inspiration.”

“I agree,” Denver says, grinning with the largest and infectious smile a muscular leprechaun can muster. “Can you meet me at my place at five o’clock tomorrow evening? I catch a flight to Denver at seven. We can take about fifteen minutes out to go over what you need to know.”

Toby nods and says rather professionally, as if he house-sits for a living, “Tomorrow through the fifth, right?”

“If this works for you.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Perfect.”

And their conversation in the coffee shop ends with Toby saying, “I’ll be there. You can count on it.”