Covet Thy Neighbor

mind.” I checked the clock. It was close to eleven, and we probably wouldn’t see any walk-ins for a while, so I set the clipboard aside. “I’m going to go grab lunch. You want me to bring anything back for you?”
    “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
    “Anytime. Back in an hour.”
    I didn’t head toward the town square like I usually would. Better food down that way, but it was also the route Darren and I had taken last night, and retracing those steps wouldn’t do me a bit of good right now.
    I got in my truck, backed out of the parking space, and went in the opposite direction, not allowing myself even a glimpse of the familiar street in the rearview. Once I’d turned down the next street, I released a breath and tried to stretch some tension out of my shoulders.
    This was ridiculous. It didn’t make sense. Something about last night had me sick to my stomach, and . . . why ? I’d had more one-night stands than I could count—including a few with coworkers, classmates, and close friends—and none of them had bugged me like this.
    I tried not to think about it, but how well did that ever work? And the more I thought about it, willingly or otherwise, the worse I felt. My skin crawled. My stomach twisted. Every time I moved, a twinge reminded me of something we’d done, something he’d done, and queasiness mixed with semi-dormant arousal. Like if I went upstairs to my apartment and just gave in and let the memories wash over me, I wasn’t 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