“That’s not what Joe said.” Sally waved one of the paintbrushes she was cleaning. It seemed like she’d recently finished free-handing lettering on the dope black delivery truck from the twenties or thirties parked at the rear of the garage. “He told Eli that if he couldn’t make up his fucking mind he was going to charge him double for every scope rework.”
James snorted as he angled toward Eli. That sounded like Joe. Of course, he wasn’t serious. “Yeah, right. Don’t let him fool you. Your cousin is a giant softie.”
“I don’t need to know about his junk.” Eli grimaced.
“Oh! Not that part of him. That’s not soft at all.” James practically purred, intentionally antagonizing the shop owner while mentally reviewing their schedules to figure out what time the crew would be home and if they should order pizza instead of wasting time cooking dinner and cleaning dishes before they could act on whatever steamy vibe the Hot Rods were steeping James in simply by existing.
The familiar, natural intimacy in the group made him miss his time with the crew all that much more. Fuck. Before he could think better of it, he let his feelings fly.
“Carver, what would you do if you didn’t work together with Roman or the rest of your gang anymore?” James asked bluntly. Because neither of them was traditionally manly, he got the feeling that Carver had learned early on—like James had—the value of loyalty and people who would watch your back no matter the circumstances.
“Wow, that’s a tough one. I mean, this is all I know how to do. And I like to eat. Plus someone’s got to pay for the new place. So…if it came down to it, I guess I’d still do this but on my own. It wouldn’t be nearly as awesome as it is now, though. These dumb fuckers make Hot Rods more than just a job. It’s another home. The only decent one I really ever had. It’s part of me.” Carver flashed him a sad smile. “Sorry. That’s the truth, though I don’t think that’s going to help you out.”
“Yeah.” James sighed. Maybe he really did need to suck it up and try crewing again. “I guess I should just quit bitching and help out on Devon’s sites or Neil’s. Whoever needs help for the day, right?”
“Or you could be a kept man.” Roman tipped a wrench in Carver’s direction. “I kind of like the idea of my man cooking dinner for me and lounging naked in bed, resting up for when I get off work.”
“You barbarian.” Carver snorted.
“I can’t do that.” James shook his head. “People already think of me as a wimp. I might not be some kind of over-testosteroned muscle man—”
“What’s wrong with that?” Bryce flexed, making everyone crack up.
“Sorry. You know what I mean, right?” James tipped his head and Bryce nodded, smiling. He’d only been busting James’s balls, which actually made him breathe easier. He wasn’t treating him like he was fragile or any different from the rest of the guys.
This wasn’t so different from what James had before, hanging out with these guys. Maybe he could fit in here somehow.
“I’ve got something to contribute, somewhere. I just don’t know where or doing what yet.” James rubbed the back of his neck as if he had a chance at eliminating the perpetual knot there by smooshing himself from the outside instead of fixing whatever the hell had broken on the inside. “I have to figure out what I want to do from here, and before it makes me crazy.”
“Don’t try to force it,” Eli suggested. “You’ll find the right thing. Give it some time. It’s been, what, less than a month since you got here?”
In some ways it felt like forever. James didn’t like the sensation of drifting when he’d had a purpose for so long. It reminded him of the time before he’d found the crew. His whole life had blossomed at the end of the long, frigid winter that had been his childhood and adolescence. A time he didn’t even like to think about now.
“Yeah, I guess.” James shifted then slid from the tool bench. He had to do something, anything, before his memories of his sister’s tormented eyes—after nights spent with their relatives when their parents were absent again—and dread overwhelmed him. He reached for something comforting in its familiarity. “I’m sure you’re right. So for the moment, I’m going to pass the time by reconditioning these. What kind of savages are you guys, letting these chisels get so rusty and dull?”
“You hear that, Carver?” Eli teased. “James is going to polish your tools. You lucky bastard.”
James bent over the tool bench, well aware of what his ass looked like in his tight jeans. Over his shoulder he said, “Someone hand me some sandpaper.”
With a whistle, Roman complied.
It was cathartic, getting lost in the rhythm of grinding the metal down, clearing away the oxidation, honing the edges, and making each tool bright, shiny, useful, and new. He wished he could do the same for himself as easily. If only there was some formula to follow, he could put in the elbow grease and get it done. Hell, he’d hammer it out all at once. Apparently his mind and heart weren’t so straightforward.
James kept working at it until there wasn’t anything left to buff away. The background banter of the Hot Rods helped him keep his mind from obsessing over darker thoughts while he worked. And when he was finished, he lined up each of Carver’s chisels in size order in their leather holder, then oiled the outside of the case and tied it neatly closed, eyeing the rest of the messy and well-used implements that could use his attention next.
When he turned around, Carver and Roman were staring at him.
“What?” James glanced away, placing the case exactly parallel to the edge of the bench, damn near an inch border on both the side and bottom, his fingers itching to start in on organizing the ratchets tossed haphazardly in a pile nearby.
“I’m kind of embarrassed about the rest of this stuff now.” Roman slung a rag over them.
“You guys use these things constantly. It’s hard to take time out from actual paid jobs to do maintenance.” James shrugged. “I like making them shiny and perfect again. Ready to use. I don’t have much else going on. I’d be happy to run through the your workstations and take care of the rest of them in the garage too over the next couple of weeks in exchange for the work you’re doing on my car.”
“I have a better idea.” Eli ambled over from where Alanso was grinning in their direction. “Why don’t you come work with us? We’re always needing help with stuff like this and repairing the machinery. Seems like that would be a breeze for you.”
James wasn’t the sort to have a big head, but Eli was right. He could do that in his sleep. It was fine to keep his hands from being idle when he was in flux, but not something he would look forward to doing every day. “I appreciate the offer, really. While the company would be excellent, I’m not sure refurbishing tools would have me jumping out of bed every morning.”
Eli grunted. “Damn. Our loss, but I can understand that.”
Roman teased, “I wouldn’t be excited about leaving your bed any morning either. Hell, with Neil and Devon to snuggle up with and roll over on…”
“Hey.” Carver snapped a rag at Roman. “What am I? Used motor oil?”