The Bromance Zone

  Lauren Blakely

  Contents

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  About

  The Bromance Zone

  Prologue

  Prologue

  1. River

  2. River

  3. Owen

  4. Owen

  5. River

  6. River

  7. Owen

  8. River

  9. River

  10. Owen

  11. River

  12. Owen

  13. River

  14. Owen

  15. River

  16. Owen

  17. River

  18. Owen

  19. Owen

  20. River

  21. Owen

  22. River

  23. Owen

  24. River

  25. Owen

  26. River

  27. River

  28. TJ

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright © 2021 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also by Lauren Blakely

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  About

  Two great friends. One road trip. And eight inches…

  …of snow that night at the cabin.

  If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. Friends don’t bang friends.

  I want my friends to stay in my life, especially that flirty, clever, outgoing best friend of mine.

  It’s a damn good thing Owen and I made a pact in college to never ever sleep together, or else I’d be tempted.

  Trouble is, eight years later I’ve been wondering what his kisses taste like. And I’ve been curious if our chemistry would extend into the bedroom. If he might feel the same risky pull.

  But I don’t want to lose Owen, and history says there’s no way a tryst between friends can end well.

  So as long as I avoid the bedroom with him, I won’t break that hard-as-steel rule.

  Except the snow has other plans…

  The Bromance Zone

  By Lauren Blakely

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  Prologue

  Present Day

  River

  It’s just a fact—the bigger the dick, the bigger the dick.

  Which sucks, and not in a good way. Is it fair that the guys who are packing are also lacking—oh, you know—common courtesy? No.

  The Big Dick Law is one of the sadder items on My List of Ignore at Your Peril Life Lessons. Some of the others?

  Texting an ex is always a bad idea.

  So is just one more shot. Anything that seems like a good plan when you’re drunk . . . isn’t. As a bartender, I can refuse to serve you that last drink, but you’re on your own if you forget Lesson #1.

  Life is too short to take yourself too seriously.

  Whatever the problem, a blow job is often the answer.

  Trusted friends are priceless. Men come and go, but your friends will stick with you when the big dicks don’t.

  But I’m not bitter about those guys. Anyone who walks out of my life is gone for a reason.

  Besides, it’s not as if I’m always the walk-ee.

  Please.

  This man is not afraid to walk away. I’m not clingy, I don’t hang on too long, and I sure as hell know when to say see you later, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out. There’s no need to give your heart, time, or skills to just anyone.

  If a man wants what I have going on, he damn well better deserve what I bring to the table.

  And the bedroom.

  And the shower.

  But I suppose at the ripe young age of twenty-nine I wouldn’t mind finally meeting Mister Right.

  I’m just a good guy ready for another good guy.

  Someone fun, smart, open-minded, and loyal.

  Ideally, he’d also be outdoorsy, adventuresome (yes, that kind, but also all kinds), and love dogs.

  That’s not too much to ask for.

  I only have one deal-breaker—he can’t be a friend.

  My friends mean everything to me. They’ve been by my side through the best and the worst, and I’ve been by theirs. My friends are my family, and that’s why I won’t break that commandment—no matter how great the temptation.

  Temptation in the form of a long-time pal with the hot nerd glasses and full lips, the wicked sense of humor and the sarcasm for days.

  But this is the Unbreakable Rule, truer even than the Big Dick Law.

  Friends don’t bang friends.

  I’ve stuck to this rule for eight years when it comes to my best bud from college. After this long, one road trip isn’t going to break me.

  And that’s a fact.

  Prologue

  Eight Years Ago

  Owen

  Sex has a way of clouding your judgement. Talking about it, thinking about it, having lots of it—sex is awesome but should come with a warning label.

  Sex is hazardous to your brain and may cause stupid decisions and prolonged regret.

  It was a Sunday morning and I was brimming with sex-fueled bravado built up over the pa
st few weeks—because I was finally having it. This was college. Sex was a required class and my favorite subject.

  Years of virginity will make a guy a very dedicated student, and Jack, a fellow junior, was hitting the books with me every damn night.

  After a particularly late and boisterous study session in Jack’s dorm, I was the good kind of tired in the morning, but I had to study for a psych exam and needed to fuel up on caffeine in the worst way.

  I knocked on my friend River’s door. “Rise and shine,” I said when he answered. “Freud waits for no one. But he will have to wait on coffee. I need a jug of it, stat.”

  “A barrel for me, please,” he said, bleary-eyed as he closed the door behind him and we headed to the library to study, first ducking into a coffee shop called Old School to get our fix.

  As we waited for our joe, a TV mounted on the shop’s wall played classic rom-coms. Billy Crystal had just told Meg Ryan that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part will always get in the way.

  River was a fellow psych major. We could debate anything and both lived to dissect human nature. I nodded to the screen and said, “I disagree on principle. What about you?”

  He wiggled a brow and collected his coffee when they called his name. “That’s not a problem for me. I have lots of female friends.”

  I grabbed mine and followed him to the cream and sugar. “You know what I mean. When Harry Met Rod. When Johnson Met Peter. When Dick met Richard.”

  River doctored his coffee with sugar. “When can I watch those flicks? They sound like my speed.”

  “Online, anytime, for a subscription of just $11.95 a month,” I said.

  He cracked up, and I grinned. I enjoyed making him laugh—a lot—but I really wanted to dive into the question of whether men and men can be friends. I wanted to swim around in those waters with River more than I’d thought I would. I swallowed some coffee, then tried again. “So, was Harry right? Does sex get in the way?”

  “In my test group of one, I’d say yes,” he said as we left the shop. “Sex absolutely got in the way of friendship for Ansel and me.”

  River lifted his chin a bit defiantly, a sign the Ansel effect was still wreaking havoc. He’d split with his first serious boyfriend a few months ago, a guy he’d been close friends with first.

  It was hard to argue with firsthand breakup experience, but I wasn’t sure it was the only answer.

  “Do you think sex will always get in the way of friendship? I have plenty of gay friends, and I’m not suffering from I-want-to-nail-everyone-itis like Harry was.”

  River knocked back some coffee, his brow knitting. “Same. Obviously. And I’m all for queer friendships. But if you’re going to step past friendship, you have to be ready to face any consequences. Call it the Harry and Sally ‘Sex Trumps Friendship’ Theory. Sex has a way of overshadowing everything. So, if you let it get in the way, then don’t be shocked if it kills the friendship.”

  “But what if you don’t let it get in the way?” I asked. “Maybe Ansel was the exception, rather than the rule.”

  River gestured broadly, coffee sloshing out of his cup. “Is that possible, though? Ansel and I were so sure we were going to stay friends. We discussed it ad nauseam before we even made out. Then, when things ran their course, he pulled a switcher. Oh, I can’t be friends with an ex. Sorry, not sorry.” An annoyed sigh escaped River’s lips. “Do you think you and Jack will just snap back to friendship once you stop messing around?”

  I shrugged, full of postcoital bravado. “Sure. Why not? Plenty of men and women go back to being friends after a sex fling.”

  Although, I didn’t want to think of sex with Jack ending—mostly because I liked getting laid.

  I liked it a lot.

  River flicked his dark blond hair from his forehead. “More power to you if you can return to La La FriendshipLandia. But that didn’t happen to me, and that was the worst part. The heartbreak wasn’t; it was losing a friend. I won’t ever risk that again.”

  Hmmm. I could dissect this even further, break it down into principles of a theory. “It sounds like Ansel either believed, or pretended to believe, sex wouldn’t get in the way of the friendship, but then it turned out he was a full-on Gay Harry?”

  “Yes, Ansel’s my Gay Harry. And I don’t want to see that movie again.” River tapped his chin, a little lost in thought. “And by that reasoning, a heterosexual man and woman can be friends, as long as the guy isn’t Straight Harry.”

  I nod. “And queer men can be friends with each other, except for Gay Harry. Seems to me Gay Harry’s theory that we think anything with a dick is fuckable—”

  “Does a great disservice to all the genuinely fuckable dicks of the world,” River said, holding his coffee cup high.

  I raised mine as if we’re toasting. “To all the genuinely fuckable dicks in the world.”

  Then we laughed because Gay Harry was full of shit, and men could be friends with whoever they wanted.

  Only, I was curious what River thought would happen if one of his friends became his lover. “Seriously, though. Allowing that we, being reasonable adults, can be friends with someone bangable, did Ansel convince you that we can’t stay friends with someone we. . . banged? That sex will always get in the way?”

  River took a long drink of his coffee, thinking it over. “It’s a big risk, with the friendship at stake. What if the friend turns out to be a Secret Gay Harry? Ansel didn’t seem like he’d be one, but he was. Sex is a powerful drug and thus a humongous gamble, so friends who want to sleep together should decide if it’s worth the risk. I hereby declare that the River Rule.”

  I stopped at the street corner. “Hypothetically,” I began, as we waited to cross, “would you and I stay friends if we slept together?”

  The question had begun as idle fishing for intel, but in the silence that followed, I cleared my throat, surprised at how much I wanted an answer, startled by my need to hear what River thought of me. But did I want him to say we’d stay friends, or that he wanted to sleep with me?

  Or maybe . . . both?

  River took another long drink of his coffee and gazed up at the clear blue sky of a spring day in California, seeming to weigh my question for a long moment. Finally, his light brown eyes stayed locked on mine, and he asked, “What do you think, Owen?”

  I didn’t know what to think.

  Or to feel.

  Except I felt something electric.

  Something that flashed even hotter when River’s eyes roamed over my frame in a way that felt . . . more than friendly.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that tingle sliding down my chest. I had Jack. My hookup pal. The guy I was interested in.

  I definitely wasn’t interested in River.

  Except, this wave of goose bumps rolling down my back said otherwise. It shouted that I was into my friend, the guy with the surfer smile, the breezy vibe, the ink on his arms that pops on his fair skin. Most of all, the never-ending banter.

  But I wasn’t Gay Harry, who couldn’t see past lust to what else a person had to offer. I agreed with River that friendship mattered and shouldn’t be risked lightly.