by Jayne Rylon
Still, Quinn didn’t think it was too egotistical to assume he knew even more. After all, he’d been learning from the best mechanics in the state for years now.
“You know, I’d be happy to take care of that for you as soon as I’m done with this.” Quinn tucked a rag in his back pocket, then jacked his thumb in the direction of the motorcycle in his bay. “I’m sure Gavyn’s got something out back we can use to hold you over until you get a new one.”
Trevon cleared his throat. He swallowed, hard, then said, “I have a better idea. If you don’t mind me poking around in the scrap heap or using your tools, I can do it myself.”
Quinn didn’t think that was a better idea at all. He was hoping to spend a few more hours with the guy, and if Quinn didn’t help him out, he’d have no excuse to stick around and share that pizza they’d discussed earlier. But still, he shrugged. “Help yourself.”
Truth be told, it was kind of a bitch to replace the distributor and all the related parts on those vintage Indians. Odds were that Trevon would need assistance to finish the job. Besides, Quinn didn’t want to take anything away from Trevon, after he’d already had such a shitty day. He knew the value in having a purpose. Working at Hot Rods and now Hot Rides had boosted his confidence and reminded him that he was worth something no matter what he’d been told growing up.
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” Trevon left the garage on a mission. For the first time since he’d gotten canned, he stood straight. Quinn watched his long-legged stride until he turned the corner. Damn, he was fine.
Although Quinn worked quickly and efficiently during his service appointment, he couldn’t help but peer over his shoulder to spy on Trevon in action. The guy was no stranger to the garage. He found three different distributor caps that were in the ballpark of his old one and began to file one down until it seemed snug. He used some of the metalworking tools, with the safety gear, and created or refined the threads.
Sparks flew across the garage. And not only the ones caused by Trevon’s craftsmanship.
Damn. Quinn was hooked. Addicted to the sight and sound of someone else in the shop. And that was even before he took an extra few moments to note how the guy’s arms bulged as he cranked the wrench or admire the curve of his tight ass as he bent over.
When someone kicked his boot, Quinn jumped like the stray cat that had been hanging around lately when Buster McHightops chased it.
Gavyn hovered over him with a knowing grin. “You’re being obvious.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Quinn wiped imaginary sweat out of his eyes and returned his focus to the job at hand.
Gavyn crouched down beside Quinn and lowered his voice. “Too bad. Because I’m not into guys and even I’m having a hard time looking away. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Seems that way, yep.” Quinn tried not to pout. Trevon clearly didn’t need his help. Would have been nice to save the day for someone else for once. He’d had enough of being the little brother, the runt, the guy with no friends and the only unattached member of their gang.
“Also seems that you might not mind if he hung around for a while. What’s his deal?” Gavyn asked. “Bryce told me that dickhead Vance fired him. Is that true?”
“Yup.” Quinn winced. It had been hard to watch. Only Bryce’s grip on his knee had kept him from tearing out of the truck to defend Trevon or kick Vance’s ass. Either would have been better than the sick, helpless feeling that had swamped him as he witnessed the devastation in Trevon’s eyes upon hearing the verdict.
“So maybe we could snatch him up for the shop. Looks like he could use the cash. And we need another set of hands around here. It seems like people come into our lives at just the right time for just the right reason…”
Quinn knew Gavyn was thinking about his wife, Amber. But why not? This could be a similar situation. He sat up and grinned. “You’re a genius.”
“You’d be smarter too, if all your blood wasn’t detouring south of your brain.” Gavyn smirked, then grew serious. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it? Working with someone you have the hots for?”
“I can control myself.” Quinn hoped he wasn’t lying. He’d never wanted someone as bad as he wanted Trevon, and that was only after a few hours of knowing the guy. Maybe the effect would wear off, but he wasn’t counting on it.
Gavyn nudged Quinn’s shoulder. “Then hire him before someone else snaps him up.”
“Don’t you want to do it?” Quinn tipped his head. “It’s your garage.”
“You’re the shop manager. Hiring people is your job.” Gavyn grinned. “Besides, if he’s as grateful as I think he might turn out to be, you could use some points in your favor.”
Fuck yes, he could.
“First, wrap this up.” Gavyn pointed at the bike. “Mr. Bosch is waiting.”
“I’m on it.” Especially now that Quinn realized the sooner he finished with the appointment, the sooner he could get started with Trevon.
He tightened the last bolt, then looked toward the workstation where Trevon had set up his stuff—only to find the guy staring in his direction. When Quinn busted him, he jerked, then spun around to stare out at the trees behind the open garage bays.
Thank God Quinn hadn’t been imagining things. Chemistry was not going to be a problem between them.
Quinn cleaned up and walked the motorcycle up front to where Gavyn was chatting with Mr. Bosch. He waved so they would know it was good to go. Then he pivoted on the heel of his boot and tried to act casual as he approached Trevon and the antique bike, which Trevon had mostly reassembled by now.
“Looks like you’re making some progress.” Quinn checked out Trevon’s handiwork. It was quality shit. Considering how fast he’d done it and the limited materials he’d had to work with, Quinn was seriously impressed. And he had high standards in the garage.
And in bed.
Trevon would fit in well either place.
Don’t be a perv, he lectured himself. Offering Trevon the job had nothing to do with his killer good looks or the seductive pull that seemed to keep drawing them together. Business first, pleasure after.
“Here’s the real test.” Trevon swung his leg over the motorcycle, then flipped on the engine. It roared to life on the first try, without a single misfire.
“Nice work, man.” Quinn held out his fist and Trevon bumped it. Trevon grinned for the first time since they’d crossed paths on the side of the road. Only then did Quinn realize how tense and upset the guy had been.
He really needed some help.
“Thanks. I would have been up a creek without you and your friends.” Trevon smiled then. The transformation was glorious. His teeth were white and straight and his mouth was downright enticing with lush lips. His eyes crinkled a bit at the edges like he used to do it a lot, even if he didn’t so much lately. “You have no idea how much you saved my ass today.”
Oh, saving his ass wasn’t exactly what Quinn had in mind.
“You did a lot of that yourself. All I did was give you a ride, a place to work, and a few tools.” Quinn shrugged. “I have to say, I’m really impressed with what you’ve done here. It’s the caliber of work we expect from Hot Rods and Hot Rides.”
“Shit. That’s a hell of a compliment. I don’t really watch TV, but I’ve caught a few episodes of the Hot Rods reality show. Those guys are master craftsmen.”
Quinn couldn’t agree more. His brother and their friends were everything he aspired to be, both personally and professionally. They would know how to bring someone onboard without stuttering or looking like a fool. He channeled Eli, the Hot Rods garage owner, and thought back to how he’d been offered a position in their ranks. Straightforward, and honest appreciation. Those things had won him over. So he gave it a shot.
“What I’m trying to say is your skills were being wasted at the fucking golf course. Since I know you’re available, and I’m hoping you’d like to do more of this…we’re hiring.” Quinn pointed
at the bike. “I couldn’t have done that any faster or better myself.”
“You’re…” Trevon blinked a few times. “Seriously? You’d give me a job? Here?”
“Yeah. You’ve already shown me you can handle it. We’ve been slammed lately. Too busy for Gavyn and me to keep up, even with Alanso coming over from Hot Rods to help out when he can.” Quinn kicked back, ankles crossed as he leaned against a giant tool chest. He pretended like it was casual conversation when he asked, “So are you new to Middletown? Planning on sticking around a while? If so, why not give this a try?”
Obviously, he’d never seen this man around town. He would have noticed an ass like that or a smile that could melt his insides from twenty feet away.
“I…uh… Maybe.” Trevon rubbed his temples. “I don’t have a lot of options at the moment and I didn’t think that was really a possibility but…yeah. That could work.”
“Great. If you’ve got a few minutes, I can call Gavyn’s wife, Amber, to bring over one of our contracts. To be honest, we just copied the ones from Hot Rods since they already have their shit together. It should be standard stuff. We pay well. Have decent benefits and shit.” Quinn grinned, getting more excited by the minute at the prospect of having someone his age to talk shop with and hang out with and…maybe more with.
This could be exactly what he’d needed to spice things up. So it floored him when Trevon didn’t immediately accept his offer.
“Could you give me an hour or two? I need to talk to Devra about it first.” Trevon’s eyes glazed. He winced as he stared out the open garage door again. Quinn didn’t think his fascination had anything to do with the sunlight pouring in there.
“Sure. Who’s Devra?” he wondered aloud. Was that a guy’s name or a girl’s?
Trevon choked. He had to clear his throat three times before he mumbled, “She’s my wife.”
5
Fuck my life. Quinn’s gaze flew to Trevon’s ring finger. Had he missed the signs? No. No dent and definitely no gold band. Still, he tried to act like he hadn’t just been gutted when he said, “Take your time deciding. You know where to find me when you figure out what you want to do.”
He was talking about the shop and the job offer, which he wouldn’t dare rescind simply because of the guy’s relationship status. It didn’t really sound like it in his mind, though. His statement seemed kind of pervy and a whole lot of shady. Because he was asking himself, why? Why is he married? To a woman? Does she know he’s into guys? At least as into me as I am into him? Maybe he sleeps around on her?
Quinn turned away then, rubbing down the length of his throat to keep the bile from pouring out his mouth at how disgusting he was being. He knew himself that being bisexual didn’t have anything to do with loyalty or faithfulness and Trevon had done everything possible to avoid contact in the car earlier. So what if he was attracted to men or even Quinn specifically? That didn’t mean he planned to do anything about it.
Bitter disappointment caused Quinn’s ugly, knee jerk reaction. It had been—well, forever—since he’d had that kind of chemistry with someone. He’d never experienced the kind of connection he thought they could have had.
Could have.
Because although he was freaky as fuck, he had limits. Violating commitment and trust between people related to each other by blood or marriage was one of them, ever since he’d fucked up. Hormones, lack of self-control, and youth had all been contributing factors. He’d ended up sleeping with his prom date’s brother in high school. Thankfully Amy had forgiven him eventually, and they still hung out from time to time today.
He’d nearly wrecked that friendship along with the mostly innocent relationship they’d had. Sure, they never would have lasted. It hadn’t been that serious between them, but still…he could have caused permanent damage to her and her family.
Ever since, he’d chosen his partners wisely.
They were usually people he had no attachment to, and people he disentangled himself from before things could get messy. Now the hottest man he’d met was attracted to him. And also married. Fuck my life.
“You can change your mind if you want,” Trevon said quietly.
“And lose out on a rising star for Hot Rides? No thanks.” Quinn forced himself to face Trevon with a smile. “Sorry, it’s just that you surprised me. Maybe I was reading things wrong.”
At least Trevon didn’t deny the instant heat that had flared between them. “Sometimes things don’t go as you expect in life and you do the best you can with what you’ve been given. That doesn’t mean you don’t love what you’ve got. It just means it might not have been what you chose for yourself. I mean, take you for example. You’ve got an immaculate, custom-built bike, you’re the manager of a nationally renowned shop, and you’re surrounded by friends. You might not be rich, but you’re better off than me, and you’ve got all the stuff that counts in life. Yet you were out there this afternoon driving around like you were lost. Like something is missing and the only way you can find escape—freedom from your demons—is by riding. Weren’t you?”
Quinn owed it to him to be honest since he was digging so deep. “Yeah.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I only suspected as much because I do it too.” Trevon looked him dead in the eye then. “We all have our shit to deal with. I won’t judge you for yours if you give me the same respect.”
“Fair enough.” Quinn couldn’t believe Trevon had discerned that much about him in a few short hours. All of it exactly right, too. “So go talk to your wife. See what she thinks.”
“Okay. I’m going to take this for a test drive. If I can make it to the café downtown where Devra’s hanging out, waiting for me to…get off work from another job I’ve lost, I’ll explain everything that happened today and come back as soon as possible.” Trevon shook his head a little, as if he couldn’t believe he’d lucked into this situation. He blinked, then jammed his hand out toward Quinn. “Thank you. For everything. This is a huge opportunity for me. For us.”
For a second, Quinn simply stared at Trevon’s talented hands taking note of the nicks on his knuckles and the calluses marring the slightly lighter skin on his palm, which proclaimed Trevon was a hard worker. He was afraid to even make contact briefly enough to shake because it would be tempting to yank Trevon toward him and kiss him the way he craved.
But then he figured it would be too weird if he didn’t accept the gesture, so he tried to smile like he wasn’t more disappointed than that time his mom had discovered his secret stash of money—which he’d hoarded from recycling her beer cans—and spent it on a bottle of cheap vodka. It had taken him months to squirrel away a few bucks and he’d been hoping to treat himself to a couple slices of pizza on his birthday. Instead, he’d ended up with a black eye from Missy’s backhand when she’d realized he’d been keeping it from her.
He blinked the bad memories away.
Quinn grasped Trevon’s warm hand to chase off the chill in his heart. He knew what it was like to have someone help you climb out of a miserable situation. One you never could have escaped on your own. If he could do that for this guy, he’d be happy to, even if he didn’t get to ease some of his own loneliness in the process. Hell, just because they weren’t making out didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy some company while working at Hot Rides.
Sure, he loved his job, and Gavyn was like another older brother, but…
He needed a gang of his own like Eli had formed at Hot Rods. A crew, like the Powertools had. Or even just a ride-or-die like Ms. Brown had become for Tom.
Otherwise, he was always going to be the odd man out. The annoying little kid leeching off his big brother and his friends. Maybe Trevon could be the start of that. It would beat talking to the bikes while he worked on them, anyway.
Trevon’s voice sounded husky when he retracted his hand and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
“No rush.” Quinn’s smile was genuine this time. “You know where to find me
when you make a decision.”
6
It wasn’t more than an hour before Quinn heard the uneven rumble of Trevon’s better-days ride climbing up the long, twisty driveway to Hot Rides. Hopefully that was a good sign. He wondered about Trevon’s old lady and whether she realized he was attracted to men as well as women.
Not his pasture, not his bullshit, Quinn reminded himself.
He was wiping his hands on a rag as he went out to meet the guy halfway, hoping for good news. He looked like every dirty dream Quinn had ever had speeding up to the garage with a woman on the back of his motorcycle. Maybe it was because Trevon was so big, but she seemed tiny. Raven hair with a slight blue cast whipped behind her as she clung to her husband.
Why hadn’t he guessed? She was going to be every bit as beautiful as the man Quinn had met earlier. Of course she was.
Trevon killed the motor, then held the bike steady as Devra climbed off before joining her in crossing the last several feet to the open garage door. It had been a long time since Quinn worried about what anyone else thought, but he desperately hoped she liked what she saw as she glanced around the giant bays and the machinery inside Hot Rides.
Maybe even when she looked up at him with a reserved smile.
“Trevon, good to see you again.” Quinn met them where the blacktop turned to concrete. He was grinning despite his nervousness. He couldn’t help it when Trevon was beaming right back. His momentum propelled him forward, his outstretched hand clasping Trevon’s again while his other came around to clap the guy on his solid shoulder.
When he pulled back, he noticed Trevon’s smile had gone weak. He swiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Had his discussion with his wife not gone as he’d planned after all?
“Are you going to introduce me?” Quinn tipped his head.
It gave him the opportunity to really get a good look at Mrs. Devra Russell.
Where Trevon was dark, she was golden. All that long, thick black hair framed a face with petite features. The best of which was her eyes. Their unusual shape, accented by bold liner, made them alluring. Her skin was flawless and more earthen than pink. The way she carried herself—with dignity and strength that dared him to make the mistake of judging her based on her slight stature—made him envision her as the warrior queen of some desert land, and him as the favorite concubine in her harem…but he probably shouldn’t.