Riley has never been the kind of straight guy who sneers at gay men. Hell, most of his best friends are gay, and it only matters when Riley wants to drink a plain old beer at the froufy bars they drag him to. He can look and appreciate, but dudes just don't do it for him. Or so he thinks, right up until the new downstairs tenant arrives almost literally on Riley's doorstep.
The raging storm and motorcycle crash with which Kelly makes his entrance pale in comparison with the battle inside Kelly himself once he gets to know Riley. Riley is damnably hot, nice, and exactly Kelly's type, except for one little thing -- according to all the evidence, Riley's straight.
Is love truly blind, or does it just wear blinders? Riley and Kelly need to figure it out before the labels and categories drive them irrevocably apart.