She looked damn good in her ass-hugging jeans and worn work boots. A flannel shirt flapped open over a tucked in white T-shirt he was sure he’d be bleaching after she finished her day on the worksite. She might be the foreman, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t get her hands dirty sometimes. Devon wasn’t the kind of leader to sit around and watch her crew bust their balls or the kind who would ask someone to do something she couldn’t do herself, and probably ten times better or more efficiently, for that matter.
For a moment, James debated again whether he should take her up on the offer to join her crew. At least then he’d get to spend his days with her, if not Neil too. Plus keep an eye out for anything not quite kosher. But deep down he knew those times were gone.
Worse, as much as he had enjoyed playing house husband to his spouses these past few weeks, it was going to take more than keeping their living space spotless, cooking for them, and managing every aspect of their busy, extended household to prevent him from losing his mind out of sheer boredom.
“Have a good day at work.” He jogged to catch up to his wife, then handed Devon her lunch.
“I will. We’re going to grade for the spa foundation today, so we should make some real progress. Then I’ll really be able to show Kayla how the building will impact the rest of the resort layout with the parking lot and everything. Hopefully she doesn’t think it impedes the view of the lake from the entrance too much or have too many adjustments after that.” Devon rolled her eyes, though James knew she’d work on the project until it was as perfect as she could make it for her best friend.
“Where’s Neil?” James asked, glancing at the clock.
“Going to be late to his own damn job site. Unlike me. Gotta go. Love you.” Devon grimaced and shook her head once before kissing James one last time, squeezing his ass, then trotting out the door.
“I heard that!” Neil clunked down the stairs, grabbed the egg sandwich and sickly sweet soda he preferred to coffee, then kissed James. It was no peck on the cheek, either. He took extra time for tongue and grinding that would lead to him being really, really late if they weren’t careful. When he pulled away, he scanned James from head to toe, grinning at the sight of his T-shirt. “You are my Boy Wonder, you know?”
James glanced down at the retro Robin graphic complete with a BLAM and POW plastered across his chest and giggled. It was no secret he’d always envied the character, who was by far the more interesting of the dynamic duo—a true and loyal hero willing to help out in all of Batman’s schemes, no matter how hairy the situation. Plus he wouldn’t mind getting tied up with his partner, who would be sporting a package-revealing costume, at some point in each of their adventures.
He wondered if there were any job postings in Middletown for an uber capable, supportive if bite-sized sidekick willing to work in the background for a superstar hero who operated outside of traditional law enforcement channels saving innocent people, kicking bad guys’ asses, and looking hot while doing it.
Probably not, huh?
Too bad or he could have lived out every single one of his childhood dreams.
Neil rattled the breakfast James had prepared, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts. “I’ll thank you properly for this tonight. Promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” James grinned. He watched Neil amble out the door and climb into his truck.
James sighed and rested the small of his back against the kitchen island. He had the entire place to himself. For half a second, he thought about going upstairs and taking care of the insta-boner his hot husband and wife had unwittingly left him with, but figured waiting for sex in the shower with them later was way better than taking matters into his own hands, even if he could do it immediately.
So he grabbed his own coffee and a muffin then sat at the kitchen table and opened his laptop. He browsed the news, but shut that down quickly after seeing a lot of terrible shit he couldn’t do anything about. He flipped through his emails, unsubscribing to junk mail and tidying his inbox before landing on a message from an internet site he’d joined to find out more about the local scene.
It had turned out to be more of a nosy neighbor bitching session than the cooperative hangout he’d envisioned, but it could be good for a laugh or two if nothing else.
James rolled his eyes when he saw a message with the entirely capitalized subject line SUSPICIOUS VEHICLE, which after reading appeared to him to be a prime example of someone looking for an address in a suburb they’d never visited before. They’d probably been trying to deliver flowers or something equally harmless.
The next post was of a woman asking if anyone had heard gunshots. Someone had posted a link to an online edition of the police scanner before a resident from a few houses down had apologized for their car backfiring. With a groan and a shake of his head, James clicked the scanner link. Unsurprisingly, for a low-key place like Middletown, there wasn’t much going on.
Some chatter about roadside assistance and a speed violation. That was it.
Nothing exciting, and no calls for someone to save the city. So he gave up, licking his fingers before putting his dishes in the washer and cleaning the rest of the kitchen.
He verified in his planner that his entire day was one big blank blob with an inspirational sticker that said, “The best is yet to come.”
James refused to sit around all day waiting for the crew to come back and getting blobbier by the second. Worse yet, he was afraid he might turn into one of the people peeking out their front curtains, bored enough to see things that weren’t there, so he put on his sneakers. Without any real plan on where to go, he started trekking through the woods that housed not only Hot Rods car restoration garage and the future site of Kayla’s resort—including what would be their new homes nearby—but, a bit down the road, Hot Rides, too.
If James couldn’t have his husband and wife around as often as he liked, he might as well spend time with people who had what he used to: a business where they worked hard and played even harder. Hot Rods obviously fit that bill, but he’d already bugged them enough for one week. He zipped his jacket up higher and jammed his hands in his pockets. It was getting colder every day. Golden leaves rained down around him and crunched under his sneakers as he walked.
As he rounded a corner in the road, the sound of an approaching engine started out as a purr then grew to a roar that rattled the entire forest. He glanced over his shoulder in time to spot a gleaming black machine gunning toward him.
Jeebus. James jumped back as the motorcycle skidded to a stop on the shoulder a few feet from him, pebbles attacking his shins through his calf-hugging jeans. At least he could wear more fashionable clothes now that he didn’t have to worry about being able to maneuver around a construction site.
The rider flipped up the visor on his helmet and grinned. It was Quinn, the Hot Rides manager and head mechanic. Roman’s not-so-little bro. “Want a ride?”
“Not if you drive like that.” James shook his head. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“Come on, get on.” Quinn teased, “Unless you’re afraid that holding on to a real man will put you off that husband of yours.”
James rolled his eyes. “Don’t let Neil hear you talking shit like that or he’ll teach you a thing or two, whippersnapper.”