It’s funny how you can wake up one day and realize that everything you’ve ever wanted has been right in front of your face all along.

McCormick

I’ve had some dark days.

The day I lost my leg.

The day I took a handful of innocent lives.

The day I watched my buddy take his life because he couldn’t live with the consequences of our actions.

They haunt me late at night. I hear them cry out for help.

The only things that quiet the voices; My motorcycle, knitting, and my buddies—Stiles in particular. He’s always there when I need him, and when I don’t.

But the loneliness lingers, and it hurts sometimes.

Stiles

I gave seven years to the Army, and in return, they took my memories. I got caught in the backlash of a land mine that caused a loss of my short-term memory function. I forget little things like appointments, and whether or not I forgot to turn off the stove or lock the door. But kissing my best friend? That’s a huge thing, something I’m not likely to forget.

Another huge thing I can’t forget? That I’m a straight man who doesn’t kiss men.

It’s too bad I’m not attracted to guys because we would be perfect together. In fact, I think we could make it work, as long as he doesn’t make it weird. But… Fuck, McCormick makes everything weird.

Hot Doggin’ is the first Bitches with Stitches novel and is a continuation of the Scars and Stripes Trilogy. Best friends to lovers | Past trauma/hurt comfort | PTSD/disability/amputee | Motorcycle club | Double bi awakening | Found family | Bad ass men who knit | Stupid hot dog jokes

“I can feel you perving on me,” Stiles mumbles, eyes closed. “I swear to Christ, Mac, if I open my eyes and see your hand in your pants, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Was I shaking the bed too hard? Fuck, Stiles’s sleepy eyes crack open, and the first thing he sees is me sprawled out on my side, wearing nothing but my boxer shorts.

With my hand in my pants.

Also, I’m facing him, which might appear to look like I’m staring at him. Perving on him.

Lightning quick, he rolls on top of me and grabs me in a headlock, pressing his knuckles into my scalp as he rubs the hair from my head. “I warned you.”

“Quit,” I plead, the sound muffled beneath his thick arms. “I was just scratching my nuts.” He doesn’t let up. “I swear!”

Finally, he relents, rolling back to his side of the bed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dude, I thought you were asleep. And I wasn’t jacking off to you, I just happened to be laying next to you.” Was it my fault we had to share a hotel room on a road trip with the ALR? Was it my fault that I woke up horny? I mean, who doesn’t?

“What happened last night? I feel like I missed something.” He rubs the sleep from his eyes and cracks his jaw wide with a yawn.

“You got one of your headaches and couldn’t remember why you were here.”

“And you put me to bed? In your bed?”

“Of course.”

“Awwwww.” He gets me in a headlock again, but at least this time he doesn’t press as hard. “I can’t take your bed every night. I might have to stay at the motel, after all.”

“Bullshit. Look, we share the bed just fine.”

He eyes my boxer shorts. “Fine, as long as you agree not to beat off next to me.”

“Shit, you wish. Do you want breakfast?” I check the alarm clock over his shoulder. “We’ve got about an hour before I’ve got to take you to work.”

“Sure. But wash your hands first.”