by Jayne Rylon
Pound
Powertools: The Original Crew Returns, Book 4
Jayne Rylon
Happy Endings Publishing
Copyright © 2020 by Jayne Rylon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—including email, file-sharing groups, and peer-to-peer programs—without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
If you have purchased a copy of this ebook, thank you. I greatly appreciate knowing you would never illegally share your copy of this book. This is the polite way of me saying don’t be a thieving asshole, please and thank you!
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Refer to the don’t-be-a-thieving-asshole section above for clarification. :)
V2
eBook ISBN: 978-1-947093-21-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-947093-22-5
Cover Design by Jayne Rylon
Editing by Mackenzie Walton
Proofreading by Fedora Chen
Formatting by Jayne Rylon
Contents
About The Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Discounted Boxset - Powertools
Discounted Boxset - Hot Rods
Powertools: Hot Rides
Claim A $5 Gift Certificate
What Was Your Favorite Part?
Jayne’s Shop
Listen Up!
About the Author
Also by Jayne Rylon
About The Book
The original Powertools crew is back in a brand new series!
When James was a kid, he aspired to be a superhero’s sidekick. He’s never enjoyed being the boss. Not on while working for the Powertools and not in his love life. Fortunately, his husband and wife are far better at assuming control than he is.
With each of his spouses stepping up to be the foreman of their own crews, James is left wondering what there is for a cute, hyper-organized, former construction worker to do in Middletown. Sure, he could play house husband for his spouses, and the rest of their sometimes lovers, while taking care of their ever-expanding family. But after decades of swinging a hammer for a paycheck, he’s hungry for a higher purpose.
James has read enough comic books to know he should be careful what he wishes for. Because when someone threatens one of their own, he will do anything—including calling in some of their more qualified friends to help—in order to figure out who wishes they would turn around and go home before they’ve barely unpacked their moving boxes.
This is a standalone book set in the Powertools universe. All your favorite Hot Rods and Hot Rides characters will be making appearances as well. So come make new book boyfriends or hang out with old ones!
Additional Information
Sign up for the Naughty News for contests, release updates, news, appearance information, sneak peek excerpts, reading-themed apparel deals, and more. www.jaynerylon.com/newsletter
Shop for autographed books, reading-themed apparel, goodies, and more www.jaynerylon.com/shop
A complete list of Jayne’s books can be found at www.jaynerylon.com/books
1
James sat behind the steering wheel of the sensible hybrid sedan he drove to and from work. He’d just pulled into his driveway after a never-ending day. He didn’t have the energy to get out and inspect the damage he’d done to one of his spiffy retro hubcaps when he’d accidentally backed over a four by four on his construction site earlier that afternoon. It was probably just a scratch. At least that was what he’d told himself as he’d turned up the radio to obscure the metallic grinding noise the wheel made during his trip home. He’d have one of their mechanic friends at Hot Rods take a look at it the next time he was over at their garage.
He didn’t want to give his husband or wife the satisfaction of saying I told you so since they’d gently pointed out that his teeny vehicle might not be that well-suited to his profession.
Okay, so its low clearance and stock tires were better suited to the paved parking lots of upscale organic markets than muddy, raw terrain dotted with construction debris. It reminded him of a termite trying to lift an entire log by itself—underpowered, out of its league, and too cute for all that mess and chaos. But then again, so was he.
James posing as a foreman of his own crew… It just wasn’t a good fit.
No matter how hard he tried to force himself into a hard hat mold, it ended up more like attempting to stuff that square four by four he’d turned into a speed bump into a round hole that also just happened to be his ass. He winced, imagining being impaled by mega-splinters and the mortifying emergency room visit that would ensue if he tried something so unwise. Cringe.
Even a stunt like that would still be less painful than compelling himself to get up and go to a job he despised, day after day after day.
He’d barely survived today and it was only Monday. The thought of having to do it over again in another twelve hours made his stomach churn. Dread sapped energy from him, leaving him deflated. His forehead drooped onto his arms, which were draped over the steering wheel.
The twenty years or so he had left in him before retirement seemed like an eternity when he considered it might be like this all the damn time. He collected what scraps of motivation he had remaining and attempted to muster enough give-a-damn to propel himself into the house, but it was no use.
He probably had been sitting there for nearly a half an hour when his wife Devon rolled into the driveway of the house their friends Joe and Morgan had rented, which they were all sharing for a bit until they could figure out the long-term logistics of their move to Middletown.
Devon emerged from the monstrous black pickup she’d purchased. Somehow the sprays of mud over its sleek paint job seemed like artistic decorations instead of like battle wounds as they did on his car. They’d had to invest in three separate vehicles now that James, Devon, and their husband, Neil, needed to get to their individual construction sites each day. He’d much preferred it when they’d shared a ride for all the years they’d worked on the same crew together.
Despite his foul mood, James perked up at the sight of Devon. She was sexy as fuck for a pixie of a woman—who made him seem almost normal-sized since he was miniature compared to the rest of the hulking, studly men on the crew—and tougher than he’d ever attempt to be. Despite her diminutive frame, she hopped out of the truck without bothering to step on the shiny chrome running board, as he would have.
A cloud of dirt puffed from her construction boots, making James even mopier. She’d been doing sweaty things, bossing people around and being capable in charge and he hadn’t been there to see it.
Neil pulled up a moment later, lurching to a stop faster than was wise on the other side of James’s relatively micro-mobile. James might as well have been at the bottom of a canyon between their two behemoth pick-ups.
Out of place.
No longer a pea in their threesome pod. Instead he felt like a turtle trying to cross a highway. One that was about to get flattened. He wished he could pull his head inside h
is shell and hide, but that wouldn’t save him from the reality barreling down on him.
This wasn’t going to work. He simply couldn’t do it. His guts knotted.
When Devon realized he wasn’t getting out of the car, she rounded the hood and tapped on the window. “You okay?”
No. No, I’m not.
James nodded. He forced his ten-ton arms to unbuckle his seatbelt and somehow summoned the power to open the door before swinging his legs out.
Neil was there, laughing, to scoop James up and toss him over his shoulder like a sack of cement. “A hard day at work, huh?”
James grunted, though he didn’t squirm out of Neil’s hold. Not when all he wanted was to get closer to the other man. He hugged Neil’s back as if there was any chance his husband would drop him.
“I have to admit, I never gave Mike enough credit,” Devon chimed in as they approached the house, still blissfully unaware of James’s rising panic and despair. “Being a foreman takes a lot of mental energy, to handle the management part of it all and then be a member of the crew in addition. It’s a lot.”
“Whew. It really is.” Neil groaned. “We owe him a turn being in the center of attention next time the whole crew gets together.”
James didn’t argue with them. Not when he could hardly lift his head. Then again, this had never been his dream. Worse, he wasn’t sure what had been. He’d sort of fallen into the crew, following along with his friends, and he was willing to admit now that being with likeminded partners had been the glue that had kept him there, not some burning desire to build shit or work with his hands.
Calluses had never truly been his style.
“It’s rewarding too, though.” Devon’s excitement perked James up a little. No matter what, he was glad that she was happy in her new role, pumped about the added responsibilities. “Today we broke ground on the site for the spa at Kayla’s resort. I can already see how it’s going to blend into the woods with the stone façade and the gorgeous beams we chose. I love knowing that when we turn it over to her, it will be everything she’s always wanted, and that I created it. I made it happen.”
Neil nodded, the side of his face rubbing against James’s hip. Now that helped him feel a little better. “I totally get what you’re saying. Mike and I met with Giovanni today. We showed him several options for the tattoo shop and the entertainment complex. Mike is going to oversee the whole project, but with Giovanni’s particular interest in the tattoo shop it looks like that’s where my focus is going to be. The man knows exactly what he wants. That’s going to make it a challenge to meet his expectations.” Neil cleared his throat.
“You’re going to do great,” Devon reassured him. James had no doubt she was right. While Neil wasn’t always the most serious guy outside of work, he was a perfectionist when it came to their jobs. He was going to be an awesome fit for a high-maintenance client like Giovanni.
James knew better than anyone that Neil excelled at making people happy. Himself included.
Devon let them inside while listening to Neil’s description of the design modifications they’d made and how he thought he could bring them to life. Neither of James’s spouses stopped on the first floor. After Devon kicked off her boots, then helped Neil remove his and James’s while still clutching James, who was content to rest in his hold, they headed straight upstairs to the master bathroom, chatting the whole way.
Devon’s shirt hit the floor. Her jeans followed as they approached the bright white tile of the spacious bathroom. He spied the claw-foot tub as Neil set him down, dragging James’s body across his own, pausing only for a brief but potent kiss and a smile that made James sure that no matter what had happened at work, Neil was as glad as James to be home and spending time together.
The bands around his heart eased some, but not entirely. Especially when Devon turned to him, already mostly naked. A plum sports bra highlighted the smooth pale skin beside it.
“How’d it go today?” Her too-casual tone didn’t quite conceal a hopeful note.
James wished he could give her the answer she so desperately wanted to hear. Especially since he was only tackling an insignificant project, a quick garage build-out for a client of the Hot Rods, basically filling in while the rest of the crew was busy with important shit.
It wasn’t that the job was difficult or that he couldn’t handle the management aspects—in fact, he was pretty kickass at that aspect. He simply didn’t want to. His heart wasn’t it in. That was standing right there in front of him, and no matter how badly he wished it could be different, he was going to have to disappoint them.
“I hated every fucking minute.”
Devon’s face fell. The glow of success and anticipation faded from her eyes, and he felt even more like shit. Not only was he miserable, he was making the people he loved wretched and anxious too. They were jumpy, on pins and needles, waiting for him to blow. So he figured he should get ahead of things and make a change before what they were all afraid of came to pass.
“Look, I gave this a try. It sucks. I’m not into it. I don’t want to be a foreman. After this is finished, next week or whatever, I quit.” James shrugged. “I mean, can you resign from your own business? Maybe I should fire myself or have one of you or Mike do it. Either way, I’m out. I’m officially hanging up my Powertools hardhat.”
Neil cringed. “Are you sure? I know we’re already separated, running our own projects, but this feels…”
“Worse? Final?” James scrubbed his hand over his face. “I know. But… Yes, I’m positive. I’m out.” His shoulders slumped and his arms hung limply at his sides.
Devon plastered herself to his front while Neil surrounded him, embracing him from behind. They squeezed him tight, then began to strip him naked. But they didn’t say anything.
“That’s it? No one’s going to argue?” James wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
Neil shushed him with another kiss. “We can talk about it after.”
“After what?” James asked, raising a brow at Devon.
“After we take a shower and wipe all this…whatever this is…out of your brain.” Devon wiggled her finger in a circle around James’s face.
He turned and caught his reflection in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed his usually bright eyes. His mouth turned down, and his skin was ashen as fuck. Stress etched his face, intensifying the damned fine lines that seemed to be appearing and multiplying on his face every time he looked at himself. Bad energy buzzed around him as Neil flicked the water on extra-hot.
This was one thing he wasn’t about to argue with his spouses about.
Instead, he let them strip him and lead him into the spray to scrub the stink of his anxiety from his skin. If only they could do the same for his soul, they’d be set.
James closed his eyes and prayed they—and the rest of their friends, who were also sometimes lovers—weren’t too upset with him and his decision to abandon the crew.
2
James sighed as he stepped into the shower. Warm blasts from each of the bazillion heads began to wash away his sweat along with his worries. Neil and Devon were right behind him, one on each side, keeping him steady between them.
“You can do whatever—be whoever—you want. You know that’s not going to change a damn thing for us.” Devon dodged the streams to glare at him as if daring him to say otherwise, to speak the fears he’d been harboring aloud so that she could smash them to smithereens.
“I know that. I do. And I’m grateful.” James took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. He licked droplets from her knuckles before kissing them. He’d never imagined himself married to a woman or even in a romantic relationship with one, but she defied every stereotype he’d ever held and encouraged him to do the same. She’d made him accept that it was okay to be himself, no matter how different it made him from other guys he knew. When he bawled during movies, she held him. When she had a rough day, he baked her favorite cookies. They fit together seamlessly and
made each other complete. The same went for her and Neil in their own ways. If it hadn’t been for Devon, he wasn’t sure he and Neil would have lasted. She was the glue that held them together, and they worshipped her for it.
Neil took James’s free hand and held it tight for a few moments before reaching for the soap to lather up both him and Devon. Beneath the soothing swipes of his sudsy hands, James relaxed. His thoughts began to pour out of him.
“It’s just that part of me feels like I should do this. I don’t want to let down the crew. And it makes sense. I can do the job. That’s not what’s freaking me out. I’m plenty capable of handling this project.”
“Of course you are.” Neil gripped his shoulder “You’re organized as fuck with your color-coordinated planner that maps out your day down to the minute—I’m pretty sure you even have a sticker for when you take a shit—you’ve got twenty years of experience on construction sites, and you can even communicate with pain in the ass suppliers without devolving into curses like Devon and I usually do.”
James chuckled mostly because he did indeed have poop emoji stickers. Hey, at least they weren’t scratch and sniff like some of his others. “Yeah. None of that is the problem. It’s that I don’t want to do it. Truth be told, what I loved most about being on the crew wasn’t the construction aspect of our business but the hanging-out-with-you-guys part. The camaraderie. The stupid jokes we shared and the sexy coffee breaks too, of course. That stuff was what made me look forward to every single day. Now that the crew has expanded and we’re all split up…eh.”
