by Cate Ashwood
“I’d want you without the lines.”
He cocked one eyebrow up. “Oh yeah?”
I squeezed his ass. “I want you any way I can have you.”
Logan unhooked the button of my jeans, and as he was sliding my zipper down, there was a pounding on my front door.
“Who the fuck would that be?”
Logan groaned. “Door-to-door vacuum salesman?”
“Not likely.”
“You gonna answer?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Just be quiet. They’ll leave.”
But just as the words had come out of my mouth, the pounding continued, followed by Ollie yelling through the door. “Come on, dude. We know you’re home.”
“Your truck’s in the driveway,” Spence added.
I looked at Logan. “They’ll leave eventually.”
He buttoned my jeans back up. “Just see what they want. We can get right back to this once you get rid of them.”
I pulled open the door with more force than was probably necessary.
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” I asked, not bothering to mask the annoyance in my voice. I glanced past them to see Witt behind them. “I thought you were on overtime tonight.”
“Silas canceled my shift.”
“What? Why?”
Witt shrugged, but I could see how agitated he was. “Said I was a danger to the workers.”
From the matching looks of anger on Ollie and Spence’s faces, I guessed they’d had the same reaction to that assessment as I did.
“That guy is a walking skid mark. How he ended up in charge of anything is one of the great mysteries of the universe.”
Ollie nodded emphatically. “We thought we’d take Witt off-site for a few hours. Besides, the caf was serving Salisbury steak again.”
And they’d come here. They were as good a time to hang out with as anyone, but I hadn’t planned on doing anything with my day other than Logan. “The Salisbury steak isn’t so bad…”
“If gravy-covered roadkill is your thing, I guess,” Spence said.
He wasn’t far off with that comparison. I felt like a dick for wanting to close the door in their faces, but fuck, I really did want to. I looked over my shoulder to where Logan was standing. He shrugged in what I could only assume meant well, what can ya do?
“Come in, I guess.” I stepped reluctantly to the side. Nothing quite like being cockblocked by your friends.
The guys piled in, Spence stopping short when he saw Logan standing in my living room.
“Uh, sorry man. Didn’t know you had company.”
“The extra car in the driveway didn’t tip you off?” Witt asked.
“Didn’t notice,” Spence said.
“You mighta known if you’d bothered to text before you showed up on my doorstep.”
Ollie ignored me, stepping around me to gawk.
“Guys, this is—”
“Logan Baker.” He stepped forward to shake hands with them.
“Logan, this is Ollie, Spence, and Witt. We all work together on the rig.”
“That all we are to you, bro?” Ollie teased. “Coworkers?”
“Pains in my ass?” I suggested, and Ollie rolled his eyes at me.
“You got any beer?” Spence was already halfway to the kitchen.
Ollie was two steps behind him. I heard the fridge open and then the beep of the oven.
“What the hell are you assholes doing in there?”
I chased after them and found Ollie tearing the plastic wrapping off three Mama Gianni pizzas.
“We’re hungry.” Spence shrugged and removed the caps from one of the bottles of beer he’d taken from the fridge.
“No shit.”
“Who’s the guy?” Ollie took the bottle Spence handed him.
“Uh… Just a guy.”
Spence shrugged. “Seems nice.”
“You’ve spent three minutes with him.”
“I get a vibe,” Spence said.
“A vibe?” Ollie scoffed.
“Yeah, man. He seems like a good guy.”
“He is.” I paused, thinking of how I could say this without coming off like a total dick. And then I realized, I didn’t care. “How long you guys planning on staying tonight?”
“I think we’re cramping his style, Spence.” Ollie chuckled, and Spence’s eyes widened.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, dude. We didn’t—”
“We just wanted to get Witt off-site. Silas went at him pretty hard,” Ollie interrupted, and then I felt like an asshole again for wanting them out.
“You can stay. But not all night. And if you’re gonna be here, you can work.”
“Not the basement,” Spence protested.
“Yep. Price of admission, boys. I’ll provide the shitty pizza and beer. You provide the backbreaking labor.”
“Still better than the Salisbury steak,” Ollie said.
Logan
Well, this evening hadn’t gone as I thought it would.
Two hours after I’d arrived in Belcourt, I was covered in sweat and breathing hard, but demolishing the basement of the guy I was supposed to be fucking wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
“Why the hell are you ripping apart your basement again?” Spence asked, pulling up a square of linoleum and tossing it on the pile of pieces we’d already removed.
“Renovating,” Jackson said. “For resale.”
“You’re moving?” Spence asked.
“You knew that,” Witt pointed out.
“Did I?”
“Not for a few months yet, but I bought this place instead of renting because it was cheaper. Real estate in places where no one wants to live is a bargain, but I’m worried about being able to unload it quickly when I do finally go. I don’t want to be hanging on to it while I’m thousands of miles away.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Spence said.
“Thousands of miles away?” I asked.
“Santa Fe. I signed a contract to work starting in January at a concrete manufacturer.”
“Right,” I said, though it came out as more of a croak.
“Have you thought about renting this place out? You’re putting in a suite down here with a kitchen and everything, right?” Witt had changed the subject back to practical matters while I was mentally calculating how many states were in between here and New Mexico.
“If you can’t sell it right away, you could always rent it out,” Witt suggested cheerfully. “It’d be a good investment property. I’m sure whatever you’d collect in rental income would more than cover the mortgage.”
Jackson shrugged. “Probably, but the thought of being tied to some place… I dunno. I’ve always liked the idea of moving somewhere new and starting fresh, no reason to go back.”
I ignored the pang of disquiet over the thought.
“You about done over there?” Jackson called. Ollie was tearing tile off the wall in the bathroom. The entire basement looked like the last time it had been updated, Eisenhower had been president.
“Almost. Not sure what they used to stick these tiles down originally, but it sure as fuck wasn’t what they shoulda been using.”
“You did check to ensure there was no asbestos down here, right?” Witt asked, eyeing a ceiling tile as though he could tell just by looking at it.
“Yeah. I’m not an idiot. Got a kit from Home Depot in Juneau a couple of trips ago.”
“And those are reliably accurate?”
Jackson shrugged. “Guess so?”
Witt didn’t seem convinced, and I couldn’t help but laugh. In the span of a few hours, Witt had become my new favorite person. He was so blatantly innocent, I couldn’t help but feel a little protective of him—over what I wasn’t quite sure, but I wanted to pick him up and tuck him in my pocket.
Ollie emerged from the bathroom a minute later, covered head to toe in dust, bits of drywall stuck in his hair. “Tiles are off the wall and bagged up.”
“Why are we doing this again?” Spe
nce whined as he chipped at a particularly stubborn piece of linoleum.
“Free beer,” Ollie replied.
“Considering I can get a fifteen-pack of Keystone for like, eight bucks, doesn’t really seem worth it.”
“And you two are the only ones drinking,” Witt added.
“You want one?” Ollie gestured toward the staircase.
Witt shook his head. “Uh, no. Thanks.”
Spence laughed. “Still hungover, huh?”
“Little bit.”
“Sit down,” I told him. “I’ll grab you some water. At least one glass for every drink you had.”
“So, one and a half should do it,” Spence teased.
“I’m okay,” Witt insisted, shooting him an unimpressed look.
“You’ll feel better if you hydrate.”
“Listen to him,” Jackson said. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
“Because he’s an alcoholic?” Ollie supplied.
Jackson flipped him off, but I could see the teasing look in Ollie’s eyes. I could only imagine what he’d been like as a teenager. If I had to guess, I’d say he probably spent more time in the principal’s office than he did in class.
“No, asshole. He’s a doctor.”
“To be fair, I didn’t learn that trick in med school. I learned it in undergrad after one too many bad hangovers.” I set my tools down and stood. “Be right back.”
I climbed the stairs and after two unsuccessful guesses, found the cupboard where Jackson kept his glasses. I filled a couple and grabbed three more beers from the fridge before heading back down. I could hear the guys talking from the top of the stairs, and I paused, listening.
“How’d you manage to score yourself a doctor, man?”
I couldn’t tell who was talking, but it had to be either Ollie or Spence. To be honest, I mixed them up even when I could see who was speaking.
“He’s slumming it,” the other one said.
“Definitely slumming it.”
“We’re just having fun,” Jackson said, dismissing both of them. “It’s not like that.”
“Whatever you wanna call it. It’s just like the time Ollie hooked up with that girl from London. She wrote him letters for a month after she left—had a thing for roughneck guys. Just wanted to get a little dirty before returning to her classy life.”
“This isn’t anything like that,” Witt said.
“How the hell would you know? You weren’t even here,” Spence said.
“I know you’re full of shit.” Witt swearing sounded funny to my ears, like he wasn’t old enough to be using curse words, but there was a little spark of affection for him at the fact that he was defending me. Or Jackson. I wasn’t quite sure who.
“It’s just sex,” Jackson said. “Or it would’ve been if you dickheads hadn’t crashed the party. Anyway, it doesn’t matter why he likes me. Just matters that he does.”
I couldn’t decide if what Jackson had said bothered me or not. And if it did, I wasn’t sure why. We were on the same page with this. It was fun. Temporary. And there didn’t need to be any complicating things with overthinking or reading too far into it. But there was this small part of me who wanted Jackson to want me to like him for more than just sex.
How many times did I have to tell myself I was an idiot before the idea stuck?
I figured I’d eavesdropped for long enough and headed downstairs. Jackson and Witt both looked equally annoyed. “I brought drinks for everyone,” I said, setting them down on one of the workbenches in the center of the room.
“Thanks, man.”
“So what now?” I asked, glancing around the room. The walls were down, most of the flooring had been pulled up, and overall, the basement was almost completely demolished.
“You don’t have to—” Jackson started.
“I didn’t mind helping two hours ago, and I don’t mind now.”
“Okay, then. The closet doors and moldings need to come out of the room over there.” He took off his gloves and tossed them on the workbench next to the drinks. “I’ll show you.”
I followed him into the room near the back of the basement, and the second I was through the doorway, Jackson’s mouth was on mine, his tongue thrusting inside as he held me tight against him. It was a good thing he had such a tight grip on me because the out-of-nowhere kiss had my knees buckling.
I grabbed on to him to keep from falling, and a growl, low in my throat, escaped as he backed me up against the dresser in the corner. I clung to him, wishing there weren’t three other guys in earshot who could conceivably walk in at any second.
“I’m sorry things got derailed,” he said, the gravel in his voice reminding me exactly what we should be doing, and it wasn’t removing baseboards. “This isn’t how I thought today would turn out.”
“It’s okay. I get it. I like Witt, and that Silas guy sounds like a dick.”
“They’re all good guys. Spence and Ollie are an acquired taste, though.”
I couldn’t help the laugh. “I’d say so.”
“I’ll kick them out soon,” Jackson promised. “I have plans for you.”
“Oh yeah?” I hated how out of breath I was already, and even without a mirror, I knew my skin was flushed.
“Yep. All I could think about on the way home from Juneau was your voice on the other end of that call. All I could think about was getting you naked and alone. All I want to do is act out every single thing we talked about, and now my house is filled with guys who can’t seem to take a hint.”
“Well, unless you kick me out too, I’m all yours until tomorrow.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He kissed me again, and thoughts of anything beyond today flew from my head as Jackson’s taste and scent filled my senses. I lost myself in the way he kissed me, the patience I’d felt minutes ago for his friends vanishing in a heartbeat.
I wanted him alone. I wanted him naked. I wanted him inside me, and I didn’t want to wait for it.
“Think you can keep quiet?” I asked him, slipping my hands along the front of his jeans, mirroring the movement from when I’d first arrived.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Dr. Baker?”
“I’m thinking that I’m not going to make it until your friends leave.”
As I found the button of his jeans, Ollie called from the other room. “Jackson, you got another crowbar anywhere?”
I groaned. “He has the absolute worst timing.”
Jackson looked like he was ready to murder his friend. “I’m getting rid of them. Now. Go upstairs. Strip naked. I want you in the shower when I get there. I’m gonna clean you up and then get you dirty all over again.”
Jackson
I didn’t know what the hell was happening to me.
Less than twenty-four hours after Logan had shown up on my doorstep, he’d left again. In that time, we’d managed to demolish most of my basement, and then nothing but sex and eating until he had to go. I’d never been so sleep-deprived or worn-out, but God, it felt good.
As he left, I realized how much I hated that he was leaving. I wasn’t done with him, and neither of us had said anything about seeing each other again. The words had been there, lodged in my throat as he’d tugged on his boots, but I’d kept my mouth shut.
I was leaving in January—there was an expiration date on this—but what was the harm in enjoying it while it lasted?
There was a part of me who felt like maybe he liked being with me as much as I liked being with him. But for now, he had to be at the hospital for surgery the following morning, and both of us needed some sleep before going back to work.
I wasn’t scheduled for another few days. The overtime pay almost made dealing with Silas worth it. Almost. He’d been in a particularly bad mood the last few days, and I’d done my best to avoid him, knowing there’d be some kind of confrontation if our paths crossed for too long.
My patience for the job was definitely wearing thin, but the days
seemed longer than usual, and my tolerance level for bullshit was at an all-time low. The more shifts I worked, the more I hated them. The repetition of tripping pipe, one after another, over and over. It was monotonous and soul-crushing, and I hadn’t realized how fucking bored I was with it until I had Logan in my life.
Even though his day-to-day shit at the hospital wasn’t always earth-shattering, there was always something going on. He was doing something important—affecting people’s lives in a real, direct way, and talking to him about it just highlighted the lack of life I led.
We’d migrated from texting to phone calls almost every day, and hearing his voice when I got off shift was always the highlight. I’d never been the kind of guy who chatted for hours on the phone. Not to anyone.
Then again, I’d never had someone I wanted to talk to for longer than five minutes.
The clock switched over to nine, and on the dot, it rang. I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as Logan’s name appeared on my screen.
“Hey,” I said as I answered.
“Hey to you too.”
I felt like a lovesick kid, my smile widening, and I felt more relaxed just hearing his voice. It was a relief to talk to someone who wasn’t in my world, who didn’t spend their day covered in mud or with their heads shoved so far up their ass they could almost see daylight again.
“Good day?” I asked.
“Not bad. I slept most of it. Starting a night-shift on-call rotation tonight, for the next three nights. I won’t be able to talk long, but I didn’t want to miss our date.”
“No procedures on the books, right?”
“Right,” he confirmed. “Just sitting around bitching with the nurses, unless something comes in. Which it will. But it probably won’t be serious, with any luck.”
“Here’s hoping Timmy gets a papercut, not an amputation.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Logan said, laughing.
I heard a faint beeping in the background. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, I gotta go, but listen, I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s up?”
“You’re off after today, right?”
“Yep. Two weeks of freedom.”
“I know you usually pick up overtime shifts—”
