by Jayne Rylon
The declaration alone made Trevon’s heart race and his palms sweat. He was in serious trouble. The more time he spent with Quinn, the more he realized that the guy was every bit as generous, compassionate, and sexy as he’d first appeared.
“You’re a hell of a lot better to deal with than Vance,” Trevon managed.
Quinn cracked up at that. “God, I hope so. That guy is such a dick.”
Trevon shrugged. “I don’t blame him for giving me the boot. Anyway, it turned out for the best.”
He had finished wiping grease from his fingers and was mid-stretch when he noticed Quinn staring at the flexing muscles of his chest and abdomen. Maybe he should have kept his shirt on despite the heat of the waxing summer. Or maybe that odd look on his face had something to do with what he was about to say and not Trevon’s body being on display.
“Why don’t you go get your bike and bring it in here? I’ve been thinking…if you want, we could tinker around with it when it’s slow or after hours,” Quinn suggested. The way he said it made Trevon sure it wasn’t as offhanded a comment as he’d like Trevon to think.
“First, is it ever slow here?” Trevon wondered. Truth was, there was enough work for two additional mechanics and they turned down nearly as much business as they could accept. The waitlist for even routine maintenance stretched out for weeks.
Gavyn was throwing money away by not staffing this place appropriately. There was plenty of room for more workstations. So why were they so shorthanded?
“Not lately.” Quinn puffed up. “Hot Rides is gaining a reputation good enough that people bring their motorcycles from up to two states away for us to modify them. Between you and me, I think Gavyn has been a little hesitant to expand because he’s afraid of the pressure. When we were a small shop, it was easy to manage and success was guaranteed. Taking on more means risking more. And for him that’s a lot to handle…”
Quinn scrubbed his hand over his mouth as if he was debating revealing more.
“What?” Trevon was curious sure, but he felt like maybe he could help them. And the thought of being useful instead of a problem for once…well, that was damn attractive.
“Gavyn’s a recovering alcoholic. Stress could be a trigger for him falling into bad habits. He knows it and so do we.” Quinn met Trevon’s gaze then, as if daring him to think badly of the shop’s owner. If anything, though, it raised his esteem. To know that Gavyn had overcome his struggles…it was damn impressive. Maybe someday Trevon would be able to say the same. Although his issues didn’t stem from substance abuse, they often seemed insurmountable. All they could do, any of them, was try their best.
“I know. He told me when I asked him to share a beer with me on the deck the other night.” Trevon admitted to himself that he’d been hurt by the guy’s emphatic rejection until he’d explained why he’d declined. It had also made Trevon feel like less of an outcast to know that even these men, whom he looked up to already, had problems. Life wasn’t easy for any of them. If they could overcome some pretty steep hurdles, so could he.
“Oh. Yep.” Quinn smiled wryly. “Don’t take this personally, but I’m so glad he did. It’s been a while now, maybe five years, even still…”
“I won’t make that mistake again. In fact, I won’t bring anymore booze to the house.” Trevon didn’t mind. He’d really only bought that six pack in the hopes of bonding with the other guys.
“Probably for the best. My brother, Roman, and Gavyn met in rehab. I don’t drink at all, since I’ve got shit genes for it. Saw what it did to Roman and my mom. That was plenty for me. Anyway, I think for a while Gavyn was making sure he had everything under control, you know? The fact that he’s willing to take these next steps now makes me really happy and nervous, too. You showed up at the perfect time.”
“You have no idea.” Trevon released a deep breath. Each day that he worked at Hot Rides and nothing imploded, he relaxed some. He was still amped up enough to realize how close he’d been to his limit when he’d met Quinn. Hearing more about these guys and learning they had their own vulnerabilities made him more willing to share his own. “That tent and the ratty sleeping bags we have aren’t only for fun. It’s not so bad this time of year, but last winter sucked. I don’t want Devra to have to go through that again. Ever.”
“Shit, Trevon. That’s fucking rough.” Quinn looked as if he might reach out. Instead, he cleared his throat then said, “I’m glad Hot Rides is able to be a place for you like Hot Rods was for me. A safe haven and an answer to a lot of prayers I didn’t think anyone was listening to.”
What could Quinn have needed saving from? He was an absolute badass who lived a privileged life with a support network that made Trevon and Devra seem like they were stranded on a desert island surrounded by a sea of despair in comparison.
“So what do you think?” Quinn steered them away from dangerous, emotional territory. “Should we work on your bike?”
“Are you asking because it would be entertaining for you to have a side project or because you think I need another helping hand?” Okay, both were probably true. Still, there was only so much pity Trevon could stand before his pride rebelled.
“I don’t have much of a social life. Humor me. Let’s do something fun. Put our skills to good use and fix up your motorcycle.” Quinn paused. “If it was fully restored, it would be worth a crap load of money. Between that and your job here, you’d be good.”
Trevon froze at that. “I’m not sure it would ever be worth more to someone else than me. It’s the last piece of my family and my legacy I have left. I’ve lost…everything else.”
“So is that where you got it? You inherited it? I’ve been wondering.” Quinn leaned forward, eager to hear more.
“Yeah. Pop—that’s my grandfather—brought it back with him after the war. No idea how he managed that. It sat in his barn for decades after he got too unsteady to ride it. Over time, he couldn’t keep up with the maintenance. Not that it was in pristine condition even then. He never saw it as a showpiece, but as a practical vehicle. Later in life, I think it was a reminder of his younger days. I took care of him the past few years. Tried to keep up with his farm, his health, and a million other things, including the bike. It got to be too much. He had a series of small strokes. Then dementia set in. After that, he got prostate cancer. He needed full-time care from actual nurses who knew what they were doing. It cost a fortune. But even when he didn’t know who I was anymore, he would still tell me stories about that motorcycle and the places it had taken him.”
Quinn got up and wandered closer as Trevon was talking. He thought for one crazy moment that Quinn might open his strong arms and hold him until the terrible dread eased out of his gut. But Trevon couldn’t let that happen. Because it wouldn’t stop there.
The spark of attraction that had flared between them from the first moment hadn’t been snuffed out over time. Instead, it had built into an inferno. One he couldn’t run away from or put out. It was too mesmerizing and warmed him simply from being near it.
So he closed his eyes and turned away.
“It sounds like you did everything you could for him.” Quinn put his hand on Trevon’s shoulder instead. Even that was enough to send a jolt of awareness straight down his spine to his cock.
It had been so fucking long…
“I tried my best.” Trevon shrugged, dislodging Quinn’s fingers.
“You’re a good person,” Quinn said softly. “I may not have known you for long, but I see how you look out for Devra. You always put her first. Even when she told you to test the hammock after your shift the other day, you were out there mowing your damn lawn and mine, too. I saw those flowers you dug up out of the woods and planted along the walkway for her yesterday.”
They were caring and respectful to each other. That wasn’t a problem.
Trevon wondered if Quinn had noticed yet that they never went beyond politeness to true intimacy. Maybe he assumed Devra was shy or that her upbringing made public displa
ys of affection uncomfortable for her.
It might have been Trevon’s imagination, but he thought he saw Quinn eyeing Devra as often as he was leveling those smoldering gazes in Trevon’s direction.
He didn’t blame the guy. Devra was gorgeous. Any man would want her. He sure as shit did. Trevon was married to her and yet he could never truly have her. “Those little things don’t make up for…everything else.”
“The stuff she talked about yesterday didn’t sound so inconsequential to me.” Quinn’s voice was sterner. “You heard what she said. You saved her life.”
“Just because she’s alive doesn’t mean she’s living well.” Trevon rubbed his gut and the familiar ache there. “She didn’t tell you the whole story. In fact, she left out some pretty important and damning shit. To make me look better.”
Quinn tried again. “Or maybe she doesn’t see things the same way you do.”
He was relentless. Unfortunately, he was also wrong.
So Trevon laid it out. He disclosed the cold, hard facts that made him look like the leech he was. “Her father sent her here for an education. For a better life. My grandfather had some distant connection to her dad through a friend of a military friend. They’d never even met or spoken before he reached out. My grandfather was already ill. Racking up tons of medical bills. Her dad was loaded. A successful businessman in their country. He agreed to pay off our debt if we’d watch over Devra. She’d been sheltered and now she was here, in a land full of temptations and pitfalls, on her own. He essentially bought us to protect her.”
“I’d say he chose well since you two fell in love, got married, and have been battling life’s bullshit side-by-side,” Quinn said, proving he still didn’t get it.
Not at all.
Devra hadn’t picked Trevon. She’d been stuck with him. He was a necessary evil, not a man she considered her soul mate. And that’s why he’d never make an advance on her. Not a single kiss, and certainly not anything more.
Because Devra didn’t have a choice.
What would it make him if he took her up on the coy glances she sometimes gave him or the time she’d offered, on their wedding night, to lie down for him?
The thought made him sick.
“Yeah, well…” He’d try one more time to explain. “Of course, we’d have looked after Devra anyway, for free, but my grandfather was worried about me. We’d already sold everything except a small guesthouse on his farm and…”
“His motorcycle.” Quinn winced.
“That bike is all I have left of him and the rest of my family.” Trevon’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure I can give it up for any amount of money.”
Could he be more selfish and weak?
In that moment, Trevon loathed himself even more than usual.
10
“Hey, Devra is your family now. So am I. Hot Rides, and Hot Rods, are your place, too. If that’s what you want. We’re a collection of misfits and vagabonds, really. You’ll fit right in.” Quinn had already thought Trevon was perfect for the shop. Now he knew it to his core. The guy was one of them whether he realized it yet or not.
“Thanks, but I’m not sure I belong.” Trevon backed up a step and then another. “See, my grandfather took that money from Devra’s dad. He paid off our debts and put the rest in a trust for his care so we’d never have to worry about it again. What he didn’t know was that Devra’s father would be killed. That their family’s wealth would disappear overnight along with her dad’s body. And that Devra wouldn’t have enough money to finish her schooling so she could land a job that came with a legit visa.”
Quinn was really hoping this wasn’t going where he thought it might be headed.
“For that matter, we haven’t even had enough cash to pay for a green card for her. Well, technically we had about a thousand bucks reserved for it, but I fucked up the paperwork. There are a ton of rules and it’s confusing as hell. I did something wrong. So we have to fix it and reapply. Now we need at least twice or maybe three times as much money so we can hire an immigration lawyer to sort the stuff I jacked up and then restart the process, which could take pretty much forever anyway. Devra has very little freedom. We’ve struggled. She hasn’t been much better off here than she would have been back home.”
“That’s absurd, Trevon. Her father is dead. Anything’s better than that. Plus, she has you. A partner, a confidant, a lover, and a soul mate. To me, those are the most valuable things in life.” Quinn would give anything to have those. If he were matched up, like all his other friends and relatives, he could power through anything else. Why didn’t Trevon see that?
The guy opened his mouth, then shut it. He opened it again with a growl of frustration, then barked, “It’s not like that, okay?”
“What? What do you mean?” Quinn grew still and quiet. He waited for Trevon to get a grip on the despair wrinkling his usually smooth features.
“Here’s the truth.” Trevon smacked his palm on the scuffed bench top, making Quinn wince. “We’re essentially roommates. She agreed to marry me so that I could live up to my promise to protect her. Keep her here. I’ve never made love to Devra. In fact, I’ve never even kissed her. You know, like an on-the-mouth, kiss-me-until-we’re-naked kiss. In fact, I’m pretty sure my wife is a virgin.”
Quinn’s jaw dropped. He sputtered for a few moments until he could say, “You’re a motherfucking saint, you know that? How can you possibly resist that much temptation? Forget Gavyn and that beer you offered him. Devra is…”
“Gorgeous, sweet, resilient, funny, kind, a great cook…” Trevon groaned. “Yeah, I know.”
“What the hell are you waiting for? Go pick some of those flowers, light a couple friggin’ candles, and seduce the hell out of her when she comes home!” Quinn was gesturing like an old lady who’d gotten riled up by neighborhood hooligans toilet-papering her house. His hands flailed as his eyes bugged out.
It might have been funny if they weren’t discussing something so painful to Trevon, who seemed to deflate in front of his eyes. “Stop, Quinn. I can’t.”
“Why not?” Quinn nearly shouted. “Because if I was you, I’d be all over that.”
“I want her.” Trevon frowned. “Desperately. I can’t have her. It’s not right.”
“You’re married. By just about any standards in the world, including the ones in Devra’s country, I’m pretty sure, you are good to go.” Quinn leaned in. “What’s the problem?”
He could think of one major possibility that had to do with the way Trevon was staring at his mouth, even now.
“It has to be her choice. I mean, a real decision.” Trevon shrugged. “And I can never guarantee that’s the case. We’re married. She’ll feel obligated. In fact, she offered once on our wedding night. I turned her away. You’re right. That’s how she was raised, to obey her husband. And I don’t want sex with me to be another duty for her. The cost of her freedom.”
Quinn was speechless. “A duty? I’d gladly fuck you any day of the week.”
Trevon didn’t say a word. He didn’t even blink. Quinn thought he might not even be breathing anymore.
“Oh shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” Quinn tugged on his hair and started to ramble in the hopes that something he said would keep Trevon from running away. Or worse, from grabbing Devra and driving both of them out of his life for good. He’d only just found them. The thought of them going was…frightening and he couldn’t quite say why. “Sorry. Ignore me. And…maybe you’re right. It was easy to say that because I don’t have to fuck you. I mean, not that anyone’s fucking anyone but in theory, I get your point.”
Trevon was still staring. Not blinking. Totally in shock.
For endless moments, they stood there looking at each other. Thinking. Processing. Not speaking. Not moving. And definitely not touching. Trying to figure a way out of the mess he’d put them in.
Eventually Quinn cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. Here’s what I should have said: Devra’s
here. She’s alive. And as long as you two keep fighting for a better future, you can untangle the rest as you go.”
Both of them pretended like all the rest—especially the part about fucking—had never come out of his mouth. Quinn wished he had never dropped those bombs. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to drop a few more.
“I would argue with you, but this week has been a massive turnaround.” Trevon did crack a smile then. “I keep thinking I’m dreaming, to be honest. You have no idea how much you’ve done for us.”
The two men looked at each other, weighing the person in front of them.
“I think I’m starting to understand.” Quinn scrunched his eyes closed. “Can I ask one more stupid question before we act like this conversation never happened?”
“Just one. I think that’s all I can take.” Trevon clutched his chest though the corner of his mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smile.
Quinn blurted his query before he could tell himself it was a dumb idea to ask. “Does Devra know you’re into men?”
Was that part of the reason Trevon was holding back? Maybe he wasn’t bi, but gay. Maybe no matter the circumstances, he’d never be intimate with Devra because physical intimacy with a woman simply wasn’t his thing.
If that was the case, Quinn got it. He just thought it would be kinder for Trevon to be honest, with himself and his wife, so that they didn’t have to abstain from one of life’s greatest pleasures. They could have a nontraditional arrangement. Maybe one where they were life partners who slept with other people. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing Quinn had ever heard of. Look at the Powertools crew and the Hot Rods. They’d created their own idyllic situations, even if it broke a lot of the rules most of society upheld in relationships.
In Quinn’s world, anything was okay so long as everyone involved was honest, up front, and in agreement. Maybe selfishly he was trying to figure out a way, even now, that he could have one half—or both halves—of his new favorite couple for himself.
Clearly he wasn’t nearly as good a man as Trevon was when it came to integrity.