by Eden Winters
He slipped the leather from the last loop and let go. The belt vanished before hitting the floor. “Damn, it, Moose!”
The dog wagged his entire body, brandishing his prize in his teeth. Lucky lunged. He could replace shirts, but the belt made one hell of an expensive chew toy.
Bo grabbed Lucky’s arm. “Let him have it.” He knocked Lucky over onto the floor and climbed on top, wrestling Lucky’s T-shirt off. One moment he straddled Lucky, fumbling to open his blue jeans, the next…
A white blur hit with all the force of a Mack truck.
“Ack!” Over Bo went.
Lucky took advantage of the distraction to grab the belt. “Here, Moose, fetch!” He tossed the belt, which landed in front of the hall, cutting off their escape to the bedroom.
Bo and Lucky faced each other, Lucky on his knees, Bo on his back. As one they exclaimed, “Garage!” and hauled ass through the kitchen and out the door.
Lucky barely got the door shut when a ninety-pound dog missile hit the barrier. “Now, where were we?” He tuned out the insistent whining and the smell of oil and gas, to focus his full attention on Bo.
His partner perused the area, a slow smile spreading across his lips, igniting The Dimple. “Mechanic and Businessman?”
“Sounds good to me!”
Bo wriggled out of his jeans and boxers in record time, and parked his magnificent bubble butt on the weight bench in the corner.
Oh, hell yeah. Lucky strapped on his tool belt. “What seems to be the problem?”
“I’m having a bit of trouble here.” Bo leaned back and dropped his legs open. A drop of fluid clung to the tip of his erection.
“Oh, rod trouble.”
Bo nodded.
“I can help you out there.” Lucky dropped back to his knees, scrabbling to open his jeans and free his cock. “Oh fuck.” He’d have to go back into the house after all.
“Check the saddlebags,” Bo said, running his hand up and down his shaft.
The saddlebags? Lucky leapt toward the Harley and tore through the saddlebags, in search of… “Got ‘em!” He crawled back to Bo, releasing his painfully cramped cock on the way. Apply a condom, slather with lube…
And lock his lips to Bo’s. Bo arched, meeting him halfway. Lucky aimed the tip of one hell of a hard-on at where he’d most like it to be, sliding up and down, slicking the way. Damned tool belt stopped him. Lucky did some rearranging and tried again.
Wearing nothing but socks, Bo slid farther down the bench, giving Lucky more access.
Best gift Lucky’d ever gotten. He slipped in a mere inch, only to pull back and push in a tiny bit more. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat.
“Stop teasing and fuck me like you mean it.” Bo wrapped his legs around Lucky’s thighs and pulled.
The man getting all forceful? Yeah, buddy! “This here’s Lucklighter’s Garage. I call the shots.”
“Ever hear of ‘the customer is always right’?” Bo forced out between grunts as Lucky worked his way farther inside.
Lucky’s rhythm never faltered. “Pushy businessman, ain’t ya?”
“The pushiest. Now shut up and fuck.”
Sounded like a plan. Lucky buried his cock in a smooth glide.
Bo sucked air through his teeth, eyes scrunched closed.
Lucky stilled.
Bo cracked open one eye. “I thought I told you…”
Lucky grasped Bo’s thighs and pulled him back, angling high and using his leverage to full advantage. “Oh, God, yeah!”
Deep inside his lover, the tight squeeze of muscles and heat from Bo’s body felt so fucking perfect.
“I think I can get this rod loosened up for you. Just needs some grease.” He released one of Bo’s thighs and took matters in hand, stroking Bo from outside and within.
Bo stretched out on the bench, hair mussed, grasping the barbell over his head and forcing himself back, meeting Lucky’s every lunge. God, what a gorgeous man.
Faster, harder, deeper. Bo’s moans mixed with the squeaks from the bench and Lucky’s harsh breaths.
Sweat dripped down Lucky’s face. He’d wipe the drops away later. Bo lifted up, joining their mouths. His moan vibrated against Lucky’s tongue.
Lucky answered with his own moan. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, hell yeah. Ecstasy slammed into him. His muscles seized. Staring into Bo’s eyes, he plunged in once more, twice more, held and let go.
“Ahhh…” Lucky arched back, shuddering through his climax.
Bo grabbed his hand, keeping the tempo going while Lucky’s brain turned to mush. Eyes unfocused and mouth open, he jerked and splattered his stomach and their hands. Again and again he lurched and shot.
Finally, he collapsed back on the bench, laughing. “I’ll never look at getting the Durango’s oil changed the same way again.”
“I’ll change your oil.” Lucky leered. He leaned over Bo, catching his breath.
“Anytime.”
Lucky eyed the Harley. “How about a ride?”
Bo laughed. “You just had one.”
***
Lucky didn’t bother fighting about driving when they wrangled the garage door open by hand and got out the Harley. Instead he hopped on the back and snugged himself up against Bo’s ass.
They rode out of the already-open complex gate, the purr of the engine balm for Lucky’s soul. The vibration and his dick pressed between Bo’s ass cheeks didn’t hurt. No need for talk, no need for thought. Out here nothing existed but him, Bo, the bike, and a hell of a lot of scenery.
Subdivisions gave way to abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, which gave way to farmland.
They passed a freshly manured field. Lucky held his breath. The stench triggered memories of his dad fertilizing the tobacco fields. A few miles down the road, the air held traces of freshly mown hay, honeysuckle, and other things he couldn’t name.
And under it all, the scent of Bo’s cologne. His soap. His shampoo. The scent of sex clinging to him. Bo. Lucky’s entire world. Sun on his arms, his cares disappeared. Easy to cast them off out here. Pretend he and Bo could keep driving and never have to face facts again.
They’d go to the mountains, maybe find a place to camp. Love each other on the ground with nothing but stars overhead. How many times had he promised to take Bo hiking? How many times had something else gotten in the way?
If he made it out of this, he’d take Bo hiking. Hell, he’d go anywhere the man wanted—even a vegetarian restaurant.
If he made it out.
All too soon, the fantasy ended where it’d started—back at the house. Bo ran his fingers over a worn Mr. Pizza flyer posted to the refrigerator door. “We could order pizza. What kind do you want?”
What? Mr. Healthy eating carbs, and fat, and whatever else? “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why pizza?”
“We gotta eat, and I don’t feel like cooking. We’d have to go grocery shopping first anyway.” Bo planted a kiss on Lucky’s nose. “I’d rather stay here with you.”
The condemned man’s last meal: pizza. Well, maybe not last meal, but close.
“Besides,” Bo said, “we got a visitor coming.”
Lucky’s heart dropped to his stomach. If Bo warned him first, probably not Walter or Rett. “Who?” And should he hop in his car and haul ass?
The long pause didn’t bode well. “Your sister.”
Charlotte? Oh, God. “Why?”
Bo dragged his fingers through his hair. “You need to see her. Talk to her. She misses you.”
And Lucky missed her. But what could he say? What could he do? “I don’t know if I can. I promised to always be there for her… for the boys. And I ain’t been shit.” Rubbing the back of his neck didn’t stop his fast-approaching headache.
Bo wrapped his fingers around Lucky’s free hand. “That was a long time ago. You were different then. You’re a good man now, whether you believe it or not.”
Johnson’s words came back to him: “You show us h
ow to walk the fine line that’ll bring down the bad guys and get us home at night.” Had to count for something, right?
Without knowing quite how he got there, Lucky sat on the couch, getting a shoulder rub. More of Johnson’s words got to him. “And do you do that for him?”
Tonight. He’d pay the man back tonight.
After he faced his demons, or more accurately, the sister he’d let down.
Chapter Ten
The warning buzz from the front gate gave Lucky a few minutes to try to compose himself.
“Breathe, Lucky, breathe.” Bo patted his back. “She’s your sister, not an Uzi-welding crime boss.”
“Uh-huh.” Of the two, Charlotte might be the deadlier.
“It’s not like she’s one of Nestor’s people, come to take you out.”
“No. She’d eat those wannabes for breakfast. You haven’t met my family.” And Lucky wouldn’t blame him for running once he had.
“What are you expecting her to do? Kill you?”
“You don’t know her like I do. She can get riled sometimes.” Lucky shivered at a particularly vivid memory, involving a well-placed bucket of hog slop and a vengeful sibling.
“Don’t I know it! She… Oh, dear God! She pulled a gun on me. She’s vicious. Let’s hide!” Bo patted his foot, scowl firmly in place.
“You’re making fun of me.”
Bo’s scowl softened. “Sorry. But for years I’ve heard how much you miss her. And I’ve never quite gotten why you wouldn’t even talk to her.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I made promises I didn’t keep. I’m a bad example for her kids. I’m not the kind of guy anyone in their right mind would want for a brother.” There, he’d confessed—and got a mock punch to the shoulder for his efforts. “What’ya do that for?”
“In the tunnel in Mexico we promised once all the shit passed, we’d reconnect with our families. Have we? Huh?”
God, did Bo always have to be right? “I told you you wouldn’t understand.”
“The hell I don’t. Why do you think I haven’t laid eyes on my brother in years? Huh?”
“If you feel the same way about your brother, why’re you being so hard on me?” Lucky rubbed his shoulder.
“Because you need to tell me these things. How are we supposed to work out issues if we don’t communicate?” And there Bo went being right again.
“You coulda told me, you know.” Lucky glowered.
Bo blew out a sigh. “Yeah. Maybe—”
They both froze at the sound of the doorbell.
“Aren’t you going to get the door?” Bo whispered.
“I thought you were.” For some reason, Lucky’s feet wouldn’t do his bidding.
The doorbell rang again. Neither moved. The knob twisted. Lucky held his breath. Hundreds of drug busts, hundreds of times facing drugs dealers and other dangerous types, and his heart had never pounded harder at what he’d soon face.
The door creaked open. A woman who looked too much like Lucky’s mother stood in the doorway clutching her handbag like a weapon. “Oh! Hey, y’all!”
Older, maybe, her smile more hesitant. She’d filled out since being the scrawny runt of a girl who used to dog Lucky’s footsteps and run when he’d chased her with frogs—only to find a bigger frog and chase back.
After he got into bed with a four-foot blacksnake, Lucky checked the sheets for years.
“Richmond Eugene Lucklighter. Are ya just gonna stand there looking purty, or are you gonna invite me in?”
Still as sassy as a jaybird.
Bo unfroze first. “I’m so sorry. Charlotte, it’s wonderful to see you again. Please, come in.” He glowered at Lucky. Yeah, right. Like she hadn’t threatened to shoot Bo the last time they came face to face.
One step, two… Lucky grabbed his sister, burying his damp face in her hair, and held on for dear life. Oh God. Charlotte. He squeezed tighter lest she suddenly disappear.
The scent of familiar perfume surrounded him, a gift he’d sent her one Christmas.
Charlotte, his best friend growing up, his partner in misadventures, and one of the few people to ever best him in a wrestling match.
She’d learned to fight dirty while still in grade school.
“Ack! Rich! Let’s go! You’re choking me!” Charlotte wrenched away from his grasp and stared him in the eyes.
She grabbed him back. Her purse connected with his kidney. Ow! “Oh, dear God, Richie. I’ve missed you so much!”
Lucky held on tight, opening his eyes to watch Bo quietly retreating. He opened his mouth to tell Bo to stay, but the pizza delivery guy buzzed from the gate and gave him an excuse to back off.
The pizza guy came and went, and still Lucky and Charlotte clung to each other, like she’d once clung to him as a child after a nightmare.
In the background, Bo clanked dishes as he set the kitchen table. Once they finally broke apart, Lucky and Charlotte both scrubbed their faces with the backs of their hands. Bo traipsed out of the kitchen and handed them each a paper towel, but said nothing about their tears.
At least Lucky’s hadn’t formed black streaks down his face like Charlotte’s.
“Pizza’s getting cold.” Bo vanished into the kitchen.
“Hungry?” Lucky asked between sniffles. The lovely aroma of pizza managed to get through his stuffed-up nose.
“I could eat.” Charlotte wiped her eyes, tossed her suspiciously heavy pocketbook onto the couch, and let out a whistle. “Day-um, boy! Nice house. You done good for yourself. I want a tour later.”
“Okay. Let’s eat first.” That would buy Lucky time to pull himself together. Charlotte. Here. Now.
Suddenly not talking to her all those years except for texts and e-mails seemed like a dumb idea. Who’d come up with such nonsense anyway? Oh. He had.
“So, how’ve you—” Lame, lame, lame. First time face to face in years and nothing better came to Lucky’s mind?
“I got so much to tell—”
They stopped in the kitchen doorway and stared at each other. No telling who started first, but laughter burst from them both.
In a moment of déjà vu from days gone by, Charlotte smacked Lucky on the back of the head. “That’s for not talking to me for all these years!”
What could he say? Talking to her made things too real, brought down the ton of guilt he’d earned for being a jerk, an asshole, and getting himself locked up so he couldn’t watch over her anymore.
And her boys grew up without Uncle Richie. “I deserved that.”
Bo piped in from the table. “If you don’t sit down and eat, I’ll smack you too.”
Charlotte winked. “Better do what the man says and sit your ass down. I like him. He’s feisty.”
Lucky started to sit next to Bo, but he stopped himself and took the opposite chair at the four-topper table.
Charlotte smacked him again. “If that’s where you usually sit, then sit. It’s not like I don’t know y’all are together.” She grabbed the chair from Lucky and parked herself in front of Bo. Stubborn woman.
Wow! Bo had gone all out, even serving the pizza from a plate and not the cardboard box as Lucky would have. He’d ordered one veggie, one meat. Bacon! Lucky might have to kiss the smug little smirk off Bo’s face when his sister wasn’t looking.
“Lucky, since y’all invited me to stay the night, I reckon you better loosen up a bit. Go on. Kiss Bo if you want to. Matter of fact, if you don’t, I might. Pizza!” Charlotte yanked a piece of meat pizza onto her plate.
Spend the night? Lucky glared at Bo. Bo had the good graces to blush. Not that Lucky minded her staying, but Bo could’ve said something—and allowed Lucky even more time to worry his ass off. He eyeballed his pizza-munching sister. “Dang, woman! Don’t they have pizza in Spokane?”
“Yup,” she managed between bites, “but I try to fix the boys healthy meals. Gives them more incentive to move out when they’re eighteen.”
Liar. She’d be torn to pieces when her boys left home. Lucky wouldn’t put it past her to finally go to college like she’d been planning for years in order to keep an eye on her kids.
“How was the drive down?” Leave it to Bo to swallow down enough nerves to play host.
“Southern drivers ain’t got no better since I moved away.” She grinned. “I had to flip off a couple hundred, I reckon.”
“Where are the boys?” Charlotte’s arrival should come equipped with two nephews for Uncle Richie to get reacquainted with.
“They’re staying with a friend while I go tend the folks. They’ll be joining me when the school year ends.” She paused, took a sip of iced tea, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Now this is something I’ve missed living in Washington. Sweet tea. Bo, this is really good.”
Lucky mock-glowered. “How do you know I didn’t make the tea?”
She swallowed her mouthful. “Um… because I’ve met you? If it weren’t for Bo, you’d probably have bought a house without a kitchen, if you could find one.”
True. Lucky sipped his tea. At least she still appreciated the Southern nectar of the gods after being away so long. He had millions of questions he wanted to ask, but they’d been raised not to talk business, or talk much at all, at the table. With four other kids to compete with, the slowest eater might not get seconds.
They polished off the last crust and Charlotte rose first. “Y’all bought dinner, I’ll clean up.”
Maybe Lucky wasn’t the only one who needed a few moments to get his act together. Of course, she might run screaming for soap and water if she got a load of the mess she’d made of her makeup.
Bo stood and picked up his plate.
“I said, ‘shoo!’” Charlotte flipped a hand in the general direction of the living room. “Go talk about me before I get in there and you have to hush.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bo put the plate back on the table.
Charlotte slapped a hand to her chest. “Be still my beating heart. A Southern gentleman. Richie, you got a well-trained one there. You better be good to him or I’ll haul him back up north with me. Folks would buy him drinks all night to hear him talk.”
Funny, she’d spent years in the Northwest, but if anything, her Southern accent had only grown thicker. But then again, he’d not heard her in years.