by Jayne Rylon
“Jordan says he’ll hand the camera kits off to us tonight during our meeting.” Levi told James. “I’ll bring them over to your place and leave them on the porch before morning along with some instructions and the information you’ll need to link them to our network so someone can monitor the feeds. He said you should call him if you have questions.”
“Great, thank you.” James appreciated the extra safeguards and someone watching the crew’s backs, especially if he wasn’t going to be around them to do it himself.
“So…were you serious about being bored?” Trevon asked James. “Because I, uh, could maybe use someone who knows how to build shit and make it strong.”
“Did you put your big-ass toolbox on that rickety shelf again this morning?” Quinn cracked up. “I told you it was going to bust.”
“Well, you don’t always have to be right.” Trevon knocked his shoulder into Quinn’s, though he seemed sheepish about having caused damage, unintentional or not. “Besides, you never complain about the size of my tools any other time.”
“True enough.” Quinn squeezed Trevon’s hand as Devra shot them both lovey-dovey eyes.
James knew what it was like to feel like you might not belong, even if everyone around you insisted you did. “Help me rummage up some tools from Gavyn’s shed and I’ll tell you all about the fuck-ups your hubby has made since I’ve known him. Remember that time you accidentally cheated on your girlfriend with her own brother after the prom?”
Ransom and Levi groaned and laughed, ragging on Quinn for being a dirtbag in his misguided youth.
No way was Trevon going to be the odd man out on James’s watch. He strutted over to Trevon, snatched his hand from Quinn, then led him to the red-and-black outbuilding James and Neil had erected on a previous weekend trip to Middletown.
Behind them, Devra turned to Quinn and playfully smacked his gut before hissing, “You didn’t really do that did you? You asshole.”
Quinn winced. “Still not a proud moment all these years later. Ugh. I promise I learned to be a better man for you two.” He drew Devra to him and showed her with a gentle, sensitive kiss that he’d matured plenty since then.
Trevon shook his head as James dragged him inside and pointed to the stuff he needed before they got off track and forgot about their project entirely. When they were both loaded down with saws, hammers, drills, and fasteners, plus a decent number of scrap boards, James figured he could whip them into something that was both useful and presentable for the shop before the afternoon was over.
“You need a hand?” Trevon asked as he set the load down near the wimpy AF shelf that had been obliterated by whatever mechanical whosie-whats-it Trevon had plunked onto it.
“Nope.” James shooed him away. “You go over there, fix things, and look sexy doing it.”
“Don’t be looking at my husband’s fine ass when he’s bending over,” Devra teased James as she returned from restocking the homemade snacks she spoiled them with in the breakroom. “That’s my job!”
From around the garage, Wren, Ollie, Walker, Dane, and Sevan—the rest of the Hot Rides gang—snickered.
“Noted.” James shook his head, thinking how much like the crew they were—open, loving, and accepting, along with a hint of naughty spice that would probably sneak up and burn you from the inside out until you were dying for a glass of cool water, or a solid orgasm, to quench your thirst.
So why didn’t he feel at home here like he did when working alongside Mike, Joe, Dave, Neil, and Devon? Because the Hot Rides were a gang, but they weren’t his crew and never would be.
James clenched his borrowed hammer and drove in a nail with two even swings. The familiar zing that traveled up his arm settled his anxiety, so he did it again, then again. He lined up a board, measuring it by eye, then sliced his pencil over it before trimming it to size.
What had been a single insufficient shelf quickly became an entire organization system with hooks for hanging tools beneath it and a cabinet that stabilized the entire unit. He anchored it to the cinderblock wall, which allowed for it to easily hold fifty times the load it had before.
While he worked, he didn’t have to think about anything but creating. Tidying and improving. Building instead of tearing stuff down. That at least was something familiar and soothing. But it wasn’t enough, because doing this well wasn’t the same as wanting to do it all the time.
He made it a game where he played against himself, trying to do things the most efficiently, to the best of his ability, which kept driving him forward. In addition to construction, he was great at coming up with systems for things. Hell, even his underwear drawer was color-coded. So this really ticked all his boxes. He measured each of Trevon’s tools, then custom fit the dividers in a drawer to cradle each of them perfectly.
Pretty soon, he couldn’t think of anything else to add to make the project better.
He stepped back and eyed his handiwork.
“Damn, James.” Trevon clapped an oversized hand on his shoulder, knocking him forward a bit in the process. “That’s incredible. I never could have imagined something like that but it kicks ass. There’s a place for everything and I can see what I have to work with at a glance. This is going to save me so much time and aggravation. Seriously. Thank you.”
Quinn stood shoulder to shoulder with them, admiring the new addition. “I admit it, I’m kind of jealous. You know, we always have shit like this come up.”
He waved at the storage racks. “Something falls apart, or someone crashes a bike into an equipment stand—ahem, Dane—or we want to add a feature to the shop, but we never have downtime to do it right. We’ve been slammed with new customers and never have a chance to expand properly. If you’re not wanting the hassle of a crew of your own, we’d be glad, and really fucking lucky, to have you here at Hot Rides working on…whatever.”
“Are you offering me a job?” James wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or horrified. He didn’t need Quinn’s pity or a spot as a lackey on someone else’s team. What he wanted…well, shit, wasn’t that the problem? He wanted what he’d had and that was gone.
Trying to replace it with something similar but not…well, it didn’t hold the same appeal. Not without some higher purpose. It might make him a fool to keep searching for something he couldn’t put his finger on. Shouldn’t he be grateful for what he’d had and do his best to contribute what he could going forward?
He must have hesitated too long.
“I mean…only if you want one.” Quinn held his hands up, palms out.
“Thanks, Quinn. I do appreciate the thought, but…”
“Ah, he’s letting you down easy.” Sevan patted her boss on the shoulder. “That was a good try, though, Quinn.”
“Yeah, we probably couldn’t afford him anyway.” Trevon smiled kindly at James. “You’re really great at this.”
“Thanks.” He scanned his work. It had been a quick build and, yeah, it didn’t totally suck. But what did you do when you didn’t want to do the thing you were best at anymore?
He looked up at the clock and saw they’d been at it longer than he’d realized. Neil and Devon would be home soon enough. And no matter what else he was unclear about in his life, he knew that he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. “I think I’d better head back to our place if I’m going to get there before the rest of the crew comes home.”
“Want a ride?” Quinn offered.
James figured he’d had enough new experiences, and rehashed ones, for that day. None of them seemed quite right, and it only made him feel like a would-be Cinderella who couldn’t make the construction boot fit.
“Nah. The fresh air and some exercise will do me good.” James went over and hugged Quinn and Trevon, Sevan too for the hell of it, making sure they knew there were no hard feelings and his weird mood was all his own doing, not theirs. He thought of Quinn like family. His lovers and the rest of his gang were an extension of him. James would make it up to them next time he s
aw them, when he’d hopefully have his head on straight again.
“Are you getting ready to leave? Hang on just a minute.” Devra held up a finger as she trotted toward their tiny home down the picturesque path from the garage. It was a setup the Powertools were drawing inspiration from for their own complex of not-so-tiny houses on the lake beside Kayla’s new resort and spa.
Devra returned in a minute with a backpack and pressed it into James’s hands. He smelled the treats inside before he peeked in. “Is it that obvious that I need some carbs?”
She nodded, then flung her arms around him before Quinn and Trevon piled on, surrounding him in their warmth.
“I’m going to be fine. Everything’s fine,” James reassured exactly no one as he untangled himself from their comfort.
“We’ll make sure it is. Let Jordan know if you need assistance with the camera install tomorrow and I’m sure he’ll find someone to help,” Ransom reminded him.
“I’ll figure it out, no worries.” James waved and turned toward the house the Powertools were staying in, which didn’t yet feel like home, even more annoyed with himself and unsure of where to go next.
8
When James made it back, Joe had beaten him home and was taking the opportunity to mow the lawn before the rest of the crew arrived. The days grew shorter and the trees on the perimeter of the yard had already lost all their leaves as time zoomed toward Thanksgiving, but it had been unseasonably summery lately.
Yay for global warming?
The hum of the mower and the fresh scent of shorn grass helped buoy James’s spirits. It was nearly as good as a whiff of sawdust, which had become bittersweet for him lately. The comfort food he was preparing for the Powertools’ dinner would help too.
He set the meatloaf that had just finished baking on the counter right as the front door opened. Kate came inside followed by a train of people made up of her kids, Morgan and Joe’s kids, and then Morgan. Nathan’s puppy, who was growing faster than a pile of sawdust underneath a drum sander, bounded in too.
“Hey, perfect timing.” He tried not to roll his eyes at himself, realizing how much like the house husband option Roman had teased him with the day before he was resembling at the moment. No, this wouldn’t do either. It was fun to spoil the crew for a little while, sure. But not forever.
He needed a purpose beyond a living sex toy or house boy or tool refurbisher or even staff carpenter.
“Well I’m not sure about that. The rest of the commotion is obviously running behind us some.” Morgan edged into the kitchen sniffing the air before she laid a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “That smells incredible.”
“Thanks.” He took his apron off and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I can tell you exactly how much longer they’ll be. Hold please.”
He tapped an app Devon had installed and took stock of the dots converging on their home. With nine people to keep track of, it was easier if they simply shared their locations with each other. Lately, he’d been using the program to figure out the optimal moment to pop things in the oven.
Morgan peeked over his shoulder.
“Looks like five minutes or less. You have everything under control?” Before he could even be offended, she held up her hands and amended, “Of course you do. Nathan, Klea, Landry, Abby—wash your hands and help Uncle James set the table.”
“I’ve got this. Go wash up, see what the kids did at school today, relax for a bit.” James shooed her away. He covered the casserole dish with foil and checked the vegetables he’d roasted to go with the meal before supervising the kids as they set out silverware, glasses, and plates.
People kept trickling in, and soon they were overflowing the massive farmhouse-style dining table. Everyone laughed and shared the highlights or low points of their day. When Mike groused about how he’d stepped in puppy poop, the kids cracked up while his wife, Kate—extra-sensitive to smells in the early part of her pregnancy—scooched her chair closer to Joe instead. He put a familiar hand on her thigh and patted her as he ragged on Mike. Devon plopped down next to James and took his hand, squeezing it as she smiled up at him.
He’d never been part of this kind of family growing up. His had been more likely to holler instead of hoot on the rare occasions they’d actually sat at their wonky dinette table together. Had his own father stepped in shit, he’d have likely kicked their nonexistent dog rather than grumble about the incident. That’s if he’d bothered to come home at all. Even worse were the times he hadn’t, and James’s mom called her brother to watch them while she worked a second job to help them get by. Because on those evenings dread flooded in his sister’s eyes. On more than one occasion, she’d been physically ill at the news of their guardian’s impending arrival. While he hadn’t understood her reaction or her urgent insistence that he stay as far away from their only relative who appeared to give a fuck then, he’d figured it out as he’d gotten older.
If he’d been in her position, he probably would have run away too. But going through the rest of his adolescence alone had been rough. Especially because the bullying set in during high school, after puberty, when it became apparent he wasn’t straight or ever going to be big enough to fight back effectively.
So James would never take the family he’d found for granted. Giving Joe and Mike’s kids the experiences he’d always dreamed of having when he was their age repaired some of the cracks in his foundation left over from his youth. So much could have been different if he and his sister had the support of even one half-functional adult.
He swallowed hard and looked out the window, wondering as he had a million times before if she was out there somewhere, and if she’d found happiness like he had.
“You okay?” Devon murmured before kissing his cheek.
“Yeah. I’m good.” He raised her hand to his lips and bussed her knuckles before Neil swooped in from behind and crushed them both in a monster hug.
“Damn straight you are.” Neil laid a smacking kiss on James’s mouth, chasing away any lingering malaise before he did the same to Devon. James sighed, feeling secure even if his future wasn’t entirely figured out.
He needed the crew. No matter what else was uncertain in his life, this was not.
This was the bedrock he was built on. It kept him from freaking out entirely to know that at least their unwavering support was never going to change.
After they had demolished the entire meatloaf and every bit of the sides—plus an incredible apple cobbler Morgan had brought home from the grand opening of her new bakery, which adjoined Devra’s restaurant—the crew pitched in to clean up in record time. They refused to let James help since he’d cooked. Instead he folded his hands over his full stomach and sighed, content, surrounded by people he loved, who miraculously felt the same about him.
They sat around for a while as the younger kids watched something on TV. Abby and Nathan had their heads together as they worked on a graphic novel they were illustrating. The crew talked shop about the various construction sites, the cameras he was going to install the next day, Kayla’s business, and Kate’s first antique scouting trip with Ollie—the vintage parts sourcer for Hot Rides. Things were falling into place for each of them.
Mike didn’t look directly at James when he said, “I ran into Quinn downtown on my way home. He said he tried to snag James for the shop, but he turned them down flat.”
“Of course—he’s taken. If he’s going to be anyone’s shop boi, he’s mine,” Neil teased, not at all upset by the news.
James’s guts unknotted a bit. Hopefully they weren’t too disappointed in his pickiness. Working with any of the crew, not to mention the Hot Rods or Hot Rides gangs, would be a great gig. Yet here he was passing up opportunities left and right. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I wonder if they offered him more than the Hot Rods. You should have seen those guys drooling over him yesterday,” Joe said, attempting to mash Neil’s buttons. Hell, maybe all of the crew’s. It took a lot to make his h
usband and wife jealous, but James was willing to be a pawn in Joe’s game if it meant it led them to sexy times where they asserted their claim over him and before giving each other happy endings.
Neil’s gaze turned possessive. And appreciative. “I don’t blame them either. He’s sexy and hella talented. What exactly did they want you to do for them? And could we watch?”
“Kids, time to clean up and get ready for bed. We were late getting home tonight and there’s school in the morning.” Mike crossed his arms, but the look he shot James and the rest of the crew made it clear none of the adults would be conking out anytime soon.
James wasn’t complaining. He needed them and they could tell.
An hour or so later, he paced the floor of the recreation area in the finished basement. It seemed like the kids were finally settled and adult time was on the cusp of beginning.
“I hate seeing you this stressed out,” Kayla said from behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She stopped him from moving and began rubbing the knots beneath her fingers, putting her massage therapy skills to amazing use.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to let my issues spill over to you.” James willed himself to relax, but he wasn’t able to self-soothe. Failing at even that only made his anxiety worse.
“You were there for me when Bare Natural burned. Let me return the favor. Let us help you work through this, or at least hold your head above water until you figure out how to swim on your own again.” Kayla hugged him from behind and he leaned against her.
They were still there, rocking gently, when Devon and Neil rejoined them, having taken showers after their day on their sites. They exchanged a worried glance before cuddling up to either side of his front. Surrounded by them and Kayla, James finally drew a deep breath that put the brakes on the room, which he hadn’t even realized was spinning.
The rest of the crew and their wives filed into the space as their duties were done. Joe, the last one in, locked the door behind him in case one of the kids woke up and wandered into forbidden territory. The last thing they wanted to do was traumatize one of them since no kid ever wanted to think of, much less witness their parent getting busy.
