CHAPTER ONE
ALASTAIR HONEYBUN STOOD in a dark corner of the bar and wished he could be somewhere else, anywhere else, other than where he was. His penetrating, blue gaze slid around the noisy bar, noting the drunken antics of his friends with disgust.
At thirty-two years old, Alastair was growing weary of the constant bump and grind of male ritual that brought them, always and forever, into the same stale venues doing the same, juvenile things, night after night.
His friends suffered from no such disillusionment. They were perpetually happy with their current stage in life and saw no reason to reach beyond into adulthood.
Alastair didn’t share their enthusiasm for the drinking and mindless search for the next great pair of t**s or soft, round ass to bump against in the night. He was da
