lube?”
Grinning, Hake pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and held up a travel-sized bottle. “Never leave home without it.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,” Brent told him with a wry look. Then he got serious. “Hake…thank you. It’s always meant a lot to me that I could look to you for help or advice or whatever.”
“And you and Joe returned the favor when I needed you most,” Hake reminded him, “which is how we all ended up in this together. So thank you, too.”
After an uncomfortable moment, during which Brent thought about hugging his cousin and then discarded the idea as too maudlin, he nodded. “Well, then.”
“Yup.” Hake nodded too. “So….let’s go take a look at that workshop.”
* * * * *
Joe wasn’t caught off guard when the workshop door opened and Brent and Hake walked in—he’d heard the shed door slam a few minutes earlier and mopped his face with his shirt sleeve before quickly repacking the box and stuffing it under his workbench.
But that didn’t mean he was ready to face the two men who saw through all his bullshit and weren’t afraid to call him on it. After breaking down the way he had, he felt raw and exposed. Alone. And afraid, as if something was coming for him. Soon. He didn’t need them seeing that and using it to keep him here.
Picking up the rack he’d clamped a few minutes ago, he examined it as though it could possibly be ready for finishing. “Showing Hake around?”
Right. Because everyone dragged their guests outside after dark, during a raging snowstorm, to show them the machine shed and workshop.
“Since we were here,” Brent drawled.
Joe winced but didn’t quit inspecting his clamps to make sure they were tight and perfectly placed. He was such a fuckwit.
“You’re going to have to face us sooner or later, Joe,” Hake said. “We’ll just be right here whenever you’re ready.”
He heard the rustle of coats being shed, the sounds of snaps and zippers landing on wood, and then the creak of metal as one of them had settled on the high stool at Brent’s workbench. The subsequent creak of wood told him the other had probably sat on the workbench itself.
Fuck. They were going to wait him out. Which meant he had three choices. He could take up their challenge and start another project, make them sit there until they were too tired to do anything but go back to the house. He could go on the offensive and try to bluster it out. Or he could just go back to the house and barricade himself in his room.
The last one was his best bet—he was too tired for either of the others.
Hake met him at the door and tried to stare him down. “You’re not going anywhere, Josiah.”
The part of Joe that was aware he would have made it if he hadn’t stopped at the coat rack heaved a sigh of relief, because it wanted this confrontation. It wanted something it could actually fight. Actually beat .
He stared back. “Get out of my way, Hake.”
“Make me.”
“I could take you down as easy as I can Brent,” Joe sneered.
“But you’re not going to. Your safe word is red .”
A tremor ran through him and his heart began to pound. Hake wanted to fuck him?
Hake’s mouth curved into a little smile. “I told you you were next.”
Hardly able to drag his gaze away from that smile, Joe looked at Brent, who still sat on the workbench.
He was grinning too. “Go on and take him down, Joe,” he said with a shooing motion. “I got five bucks that says you can’t.”
“That’s it.” Joe tossed his jacket aside. “Get the fuck out of my way. Now.”
“You better have that lube handy, Brent,” Hake said without taking his smirking eyes off Joe. “I’m gonna need it here in a minute.”
Practically cross-eyed with fury, Joe reached for him. Hake ducked, but instead of trying to avoid Joe, he grabbed Joe’s knee and yanked his leg out from under him.
Joe barely had time to break his fall with his hands before he
Grinning, Hake pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket and held up a travel-sized bottle. “Never leave home without it.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,” Brent told him with a wry look. Then he got serious. “Hake…thank you. It’s always meant a lot to me that I could look to you for help or advice or whatever.”
“And you and Joe returned the favor when I needed you most,” Hake reminded him, “which is how we all ended up in this together. So thank you, too.”
After an uncomfortable moment, during which Brent thought about hugging his cousin and then discarded the idea as too maudlin, he nodded. “Well, then.”
“Yup.” Hake nodded too. “So….let’s go take a look at that workshop.”
* * * * *
Joe wasn’t caught off guard when the workshop door opened and Brent and Hake walked in—he’d heard the shed door slam a few minutes earlier and mopped his face with his shirt sleeve before quickly repacking the box and stuffing it under his workbench.
But that didn’t mean he was ready to face the two men who saw through all his bullshit and weren’t afraid to call him on it. After breaking down the way he had, he felt raw and exposed. Alone. And afraid, as if something was coming for him. Soon. He didn’t need them seeing that and using it to keep him here.
Picking up the rack he’d clamped a few minutes ago, he examined it as though it could possibly be ready for finishing. “Showing Hake around?”
Right. Because everyone dragged their guests outside after dark, during a raging snowstorm, to show them the machine shed and workshop.
“Since we were here,” Brent drawled.
Joe winced but didn’t quit inspecting his clamps to make sure they were tight and perfectly placed. He was such a fuckwit.
“You’re going to have to face us sooner or later, Joe,” Hake said. “We’ll just be right here whenever you’re ready.”
He heard the rustle of coats being shed, the sounds of snaps and zippers landing on wood, and then the creak of metal as one of them had settled on the high stool at Brent’s workbench. The subsequent creak of wood told him the other had probably sat on the workbench itself.
Fuck. They were going to wait him out. Which meant he had three choices. He could take up their challenge and start another project, make them sit there until they were too tired to do anything but go back to the house. He could go on the offensive and try to bluster it out. Or he could just go back to the house and barricade himself in his room.
The last one was his best bet—he was too tired for either of the others.
Hake met him at the door and tried to stare him down. “You’re not going anywhere, Josiah.”
The part of Joe that was aware he would have made it if he hadn’t stopped at the coat rack heaved a sigh of relief, because it wanted this confrontation. It wanted something it could actually fight. Actually beat .
He stared back. “Get out of my way, Hake.”
“Make me.”
“I could take you down as easy as I can Brent,” Joe sneered.
“But you’re not going to. Your safe word is red .”
A tremor ran through him and his heart began to pound. Hake wanted to fuck him?
Hake’s mouth curved into a little smile. “I told you you were next.”
Hardly able to drag his gaze away from that smile, Joe looked at Brent, who still sat on the workbench.
He was grinning too. “Go on and take him down, Joe,” he said with a shooing motion. “I got five bucks that says you can’t.”
“That’s it.” Joe tossed his jacket aside. “Get the fuck out of my way. Now.”
“You better have that lube handy, Brent,” Hake said without taking his smirking eyes off Joe. “I’m gonna need it here in a minute.”
Practically cross-eyed with fury, Joe reached for him. Hake ducked, but instead of trying to avoid Joe, he grabbed Joe’s knee and yanked his leg out from under him.
Joe barely had time to break his fall with his hands before he
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