by Jayne Rylon
“You’re right, little bro.” Roman squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. The touch didn’t bother him because he trusted his brother to the bone. Roman would never hurt him. And the tender reminder made Quinn pay extra attention to the advice he was about to impart. He only wanted to help. “It’s too soon to know anything yet. But sometimes you have to gamble to win. So all we’re trying to say is keep your heart open and listen to what it tells you.”
“That’s some good advice right there.” Tom nodded and pointed with his fork. He wrapped his arm around Ms. Brown and pulled her toward him so he could plant a loud smack on her cheek. “We raised some damn fine kids, Willie.”
“We have indeed.” She angled her face to kiss Tom more deeply on the lips.
Ambrose shrieked, “Ick. Gramma and Gramps. Not at the dinner table.”
Quinn cracked up along with the rest of the gang. Then he took a deep breath for the first time since Trevon had dropped the Devra bomb on him. They were right. Things would work out as they should. They always did. But how rough would the road be between here and there?
8
The next few days passed quietly as they settled into their new routines. After Quinn got home from the Hot Rods family dinner, he helped Trevon and Devra make the cottage next door to his livable again. They worked together, moving all the stuff he’d had stored over there to the garage, dusted everything, turned on the water, and made sure the air conditioning was working. He brought over some spare sheets and pillows so they’d have fresh bedding and tried not to think about what they’d be doing on his linens.
He didn’t ask where they’d been staying, but it was clear they needed a roof over their heads as much as Trevon had needed the job at Hot Rides.
Devra made no mention of her work situation or how she’d get there from their location on the outskirts of town, so he didn’t pry. He figured they’d tell him more about themselves in time, if they felt like it. Honestly, learning details was risky. The danger was he’d like them more and more instead of less and less.
Quinn couldn’t afford to grow feelings for either of them. Lusting after them was bad enough in these close quarters.
He’d spent his evenings trying not to spy on them from his favorite place to sit and read on his back porch. But they were hard to ignore. Their bursts of laughter couldn’t be contained in the small space. They often drew his wistful gaze. And when he saw them in the soft glow of the living room lamp as they engaged in late-night discussions on the sofa, it made him wonder what they were talking about.
He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that he hadn’t seen them touching in a non-platonic way. No kissing, no cuddling, no…nothing. Maybe they were more discreet than he was, especially with Trevon’s boss so close, but he didn’t get the sense that was true.
Sometimes they seemed more like best friends and perfect roommates than the lovers he knew they were. Damn, if they didn’t make him envious.
Just like all the other happy couples, or trios, or whatever matchups in his life. He’d spent so long as the odd one out, he might not know what to do if he was ever included inside the bright circle of a relationship himself. Maybe he should get a cat or a dog. Then at least he’d have someone to take care of, and talk to, and pet.
Not the worst idea he’d ever had.
Quinn set down his tools and rested his back up against a support pole nearby as he debated a trip to the animal shelter after work. It was either that or prowl around the bars again tonight, and he couldn’t imagine that satisfying his cravings. He glanced over at Trevon, who was in the middle of a tune-up. Quinn would actually get out of here at a reasonable time this evening. But where would he go? What would he do?
No other guy was going to hold the same appeal as the one bent over that engine, his fingers working magic on the shiny metal. His pants were riding low on his waist, exposing the very top edge of his tight ass and the curves that kept them from pooling around his ankles. Not that Quinn would mind if that were to happen.
He dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and willed his partially hard cock to wilt instead of going full erection. It was a constant struggle around Trevon and Devra, who’d taken to hanging out with them during the afternoons after she’d spent a few hours cleaning, working on reviving the cottage’s garden, and cooking them some of the most delicious lunches he’d ever had.
Sorry, Ms. Brown.
In fact, his stomach growled then as he smelled spicy, foreign food. When he opened his eyes, Devra was there, holding a tray at least half as big as herself, grinning down at him. “Asleep on the job? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your worker.”
Quinn scrambled to his feet, embarrassed both at being busted daydreaming about their sweet asses and for looking like a slacker. He took the tray from her and carried it to a table in the break room. “Just needed a minute.”
“You’re the boss. I’m sure you could go take a half-hour nap on your lunch break if you need. Trevon and I can handle stuff here. Gavyn said he’d be around later in case you’d feel better if we were supervised.” She looked down at the spread she’d prepared and fiddled with the dishes, straightening things for no reason.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you two here.” Oddly, that was the truth. Though he’d only known them a few days, they already felt like part of the Hot Rides family. Nothing they’d shown him yet had given him even a moment to pause and consider their dependability. “It’s more like… Well, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it wasn’t for Hot Rides and working here.”
Right then, the phone rang. Quinn jogged over to the office, on the other side of the wall from the break room, and answered it. He rummaged around Gavyn’s desk until he retrieved the appointment book and found an empty slot that worked for the customer who wanted to put fancy new tires on his bike. When he hung up, Devra was watching him thoughtfully.
“You know, you might as well let me help with that stuff,” she said as he hung up the phone. “I spend a lot of time hanging out here. I think I can manage to take calls and write down some messages when you’re working on a motorcycle so that you don’t have to pull double duty.”
“That’s not necessary.” Quinn was happy enough to have Trevon taking half the workload in the shop. It really did leave him some time to relax. Time to realize how much he’d been overdoing it lately.
“It’d be nice to be useful for once.” Devra’s smile didn’t quite make it past her mouth. The sad twist of her burgundy lips made Quinn want to reach out and hug her, except he didn’t know what Trevon would think of that. “You’ve been so generous with us. I’d like to give back in some way if I’m able.”
What would it hurt? It wasn’t a terrible idea. Amber and her sister, Nola, took care of some administrative stuff when they could, but that wasn’t their primary focus.
Quinn made a snap decision. “I’m willing to pay you for your time. No one’s asking you to work for free.”
“Thank you, but…” Devra glanced over at Trevon, who didn’t appear to be listening to their conversation. “I can’t accept that.”
“Of course you can.” Quinn tried to ignore their weird dynamic. Or at least to treat them as individuals instead of a unit. They were both fascinating to him in their own ways. Devra deserved a shot at least as much as Trevon had. Maybe more now that he’d gotten to know her a bit. She was strong, independent, and yet reserved, as if afraid to overstep.
She’d taken initiative and he’d much rather nurture that than squash it.
“No. Legally, I can’t.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not a US citizen. I don’t even have my green card yet. We haven’t been married that long and once I was eligible to apply, we didn’t have the money to submit my paperwork. Besides, it can take a while to process…”
Devra sighed. “So yeah, I’m kind of useless. Can’t drive, can’t work, can’t vote. Can’t do much of anything. Sometimes I feel like Trevon’s child more than his wife, to be honest. We’ve
been struggling and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m just another burden for him, really. I even got turned away as a volunteer for the soup kitchen downtown because of the background check. So I guess you’ll have to put up with my cooking instead.”
“I love your food.” Quinn reached out and took her hand. He held it for far too brief a moment, caressing her soft, warm skin before letting it go. He should bite his tongue, but instead he said, “I didn’t realize. Sorry. So where are you from?”
He had to know where she’d gotten that seductive accent that lent a bit of a roll to her R’s. It drove him wild, and made her seem even more different than the Midwestern women he’d known before. To him, that was a plus.
“Yemen.” She rocked back when she said it, almost as if the memory of her home made her flinch. “It’s a beautiful country, but it’s not…safe…for me right now. My father sent me here with a one-way plane ticket.”
“So you’re a refugee.” Quinn paused, setting the appointment book down next to the tray of dishes she’d lovingly prepared for Trevon…and for him.
He wasn’t the greatest at geography, but he knew she was from somewhere in the Middle East. That explained her gorgeous skin and dark, wavy hair. In a flash, he imagined her wearing more traditional clothing, her eyes outlined heavily, and her hair peeking out from beneath a lace head wrap. He cleared his throat as he pictured how stunning she would be in her native environment and how beautifully she’d adapted to his. He admired her flexibility and the courage it must have taken to adjust to an entirely new world under difficult circumstances.
Devra wrung her hands as if she was as nervous talking to him about this as he was about prying or learning something that might take his admiration to someplace deeper. Someplace strictly off limits. “I was supposed to go to college here. But my father disappeared and so did the funds in our bank account. I heard from one of my cousins that…he was killed along with most everyone else in our town who spoke up against the injustices that are being committed there.”
“Jesus, Devra. I’m so sorry. That’s…sick.” Quinn reined in his outrage and disgust lest she think it was aimed at her and a situation out of her control. But he couldn’t help it—he hugged her although he knew too well it wouldn’t do much to soothe the hurt.
“It is.” Her voice was monotone, as if she had accepted it by now, or maybe as if she was still in shock and numb to the horror of it all. “I had to drop out. I lost my work-study position at…um…the place where I met Trevon. I was stranded. Utterly alone. He took me in and made us family. I owe Trevon everything. He saved my life.”
“I’m sure he would do it a million times over for the woman he loves.” Quinn knew he sure as hell would. No one deserved to live in fear like that. No one deserved to be cast aside instead of being welcomed with open arms.
Devra winced and turned away. The heavy conversation must have been too much for her.
Just then, the phone rang again. She lunged for it without asking this time. Quinn wouldn’t have had the heart to tell her not to anyway. Not after what she’d shared. He’d felt useless once, too, until his brother and Hot Rods—then Hot Rides—had given him a purpose.
Her voice was loud and clear when she said, “Hot Rides Garage. How can I help you?”
Trevon whipped his gaze to Devra. Then to Quinn, who shrugged.
He understood what it was like to rely on the kindness of strangers. Hell, he’d been all alone, thrust into a foreign setting, after his brother had rescued him from their mother’s home and the abuse he’d suffered at her hands. It paled in comparison to Devra’s situation, but he had a taste of what she must have experienced. If he hadn’t been allowed to chip in at Hot Rods, he probably would have gone crazy or run away before they’d become family in the truest sense of the word. He had no desire to be a pity case. A proud woman like her would feel the same.
If answering a dumb phone call was what it took to make Devra feel like she belonged and had some worth, who the fuck was he to tell her not to do it?
“Yes, sir. Wednesday at 3PM would be fine. We’ll see you then.” Devra jotted down a note in the planner, then hung up the phone.
Her smile nearly blinded Quinn. Straight, white teeth stood out against her rouged mouth and the color infusing her cheeks for the first time since he’d met her. So he figured he’d do one better and show her how much he enjoyed her meals as well.
“Trevon, you better get your ass in here for lunch before I eat yours, too.” Quinn froze when Devra covered her mouth with her hand. She looked away, blushing.
Well, he hadn’t meant it like that, but… Yeah, that, too.
“One minute, I’m cleaning up.” Trevon hustled, joining them in less than half that time.
Meanwhile, Quinn had already heaped his plate with a helping of each dish Devra had whipped up. “So, what is it I’m eating here? I like this orange stuff you made yesterday, too.”
Devra laughed, making Trevon pause. He grinned at her, then flashed Quinn a grateful smile. Apparently he liked it when Quinn made his wife happy. Good. Because Quinn thought it might be his new favorite pastime.
As he stuffed his face, Devra told him the names of each food and its ingredients. Hummus, shafoot, falafel, and lamb mandi. He was stuffed by the time he’d eaten half of what he’d taken. That didn’t stop him from finishing every last bit and licking his fingers at the end.
He looked up to find both Devra and Trevon staring at him. “What?”
Hell, he hadn’t even belched.
Trevon cleared his throat and shook his head. Devra beamed. She asked, “You liked it that much?”
“Uh huh.” He grinned a little self-consciously.
“Trevon tells me it’s good, but I thought he might be just being nice. That’s how he is.” Devra smiled shyly. “I was studying to be a chef and taking business classes before…you know.”
Trevon put his hand on her knee and squeezed.
“My dream was that someday I could open a restaurant with a traditional menu so I could introduce more people to our food.” She sighed and shook herself, then stood to clear the dishes.
“Wait…why was?” Quinn asked.
“We’re so far from making that possible. For now, we need to concentrate on getting by.” Devra reached out and took his dirty plate and crumpled napkin. “Because of you, we’re in a much better place than we were a week ago. I can imagine, someday, things could be different than they have been lately. So thank you, Quinn. Thank you.”
Trevon didn’t object when his wife circled the table and smothered Quinn in a hug.
It startled him so much that he wasn’t sure if he should hug her back or pretend like her embrace hadn’t touched him so much deeper than his chest and back. He felt her energy radiate straight to his soul. For the first time in forever, it felt like he was doing something right.
Like he was where he was supposed to be and doing shit that really mattered.
They might not know it, but Trevon and Devra were as good for him as he was for them.
He made a mental note to pick up a bunch of seeds on his next trip to the hardware store. Things that Devra had listed as her main ingredients—zucchini, garlic, eggplant, and tomatoes—to start. It was the least he could do if he planned to eat her food every chance he got.
Plus, it would be interesting to see what they could grow together.
9
“That was my last appointment for the day.” Quinn sank to the floor next to where Trevon was cleaning his tools. Though Trevon tried not to stare, he couldn’t help taking a quick scan and absorbing every detail about Quinn. The guy rested his back against the metal cabinets and draped his tattooed arms over his bent knees while he kept his boots planted on the concrete. His muscles were casually on display. He was the very definition of masculinity.
“I’m finished, too.” It was just the two of them holding down the garage. Since Trevon had come on board, Gavyn had been taking the opportunity to travel to convent
ions where they could rack up some more work from collectors and enthusiasts.
Stuff more interesting than routine maintenance. Knowing they had more varied and specialized work coming in was exciting for Trevon, too. Working here would definitely boost his resume.
“You know my friends are probably grilling your poor wife right now.” Quinn picked at his jeans. Though he said it casually, Trevon could tell he was kind of worried. About what?
Devra had gone with some of the Hot Rods ladies to get a manicure or a massage or some other spa shit. Whatever girls did at those fancy places. Devra had originally turned down their offer, since they didn’t have the cash for those kind of luxuries, but the women had refused to take no for an answer. A gorgeous, no-nonsense lady named Sally had rolled up in a neon-pink convertible classic Mustang and convinced Devra by explaining they were getting freebies in exchange for reviews of a new establishment.
Quinn had let it slip later that Sally had fudged the truth a bit. He’d promised that the women were happy to chip in so that Devra could join them, especially since they were truly getting a hefty discount for being guinea pigs. Trevon would ordinarily have objected, except Devra deserved to be pampered. If he couldn’t do it for her, he would accept help to provide the things she needed. Ego be damned.
“She can hold her own.” Trevon grinned, thinking of his petite yet fierce wife. “She might be soft spoken, but she’s tough. Besides, it would be awesome for her to have her own friends to hang out with instead of being stuck with me all the damn time. I’m not always the best company.”
“I don’t know. I’ve enjoyed my time at the shop a lot more since you arrived. Having someone to talk to makes the days go by a lot faster.” Quinn didn’t look at Trevon when he admitted it.
