We Found Love (26 page)

Yeah, but that did nothing for Riley’s desire to see Hunter again. If nothing else, to say hello, that he missed Hunter and, no matter what happened, hoped they would always remain friends.

At some point, Riley was going to stop driving the hour it took to get to Hunter’s shop just to sit in the car and stare at the building without going in. Today was
not
going to be that day.

He reached across the console, popped open the glove box, and tucked Hunter’s letters away. The first time he slammed the damn thing closed, it popped right back open. He fisted his fingers and popped it again. The second time, the latch caught, and life was good in the world of Korean engineering.

It took fifty-three minutes to get to the garage. God and Louisiana traffic was on his side today, like destiny or fate or someone that fairy-tale shit romantics believed in had lent a hand in getting him where he needed to be this time. He parked on the street, about twenty feet away from the driveway, under a huge tree with a thick canopy. The spot was nice and cool, and welcomed since the Kia had no freakin’ AC.

He sat back in his seat, hands in his lap, stare trained on the building. He’d already memorized almost every crack in the pavement. The blue was vibrant, fresh. It had been painted recently and complemented the vintage Morgan Brothers sign that had been hung in the last few weeks. So, it looked like Hunter had a stake in the business. Good for him. It was good to know he was making it in the big bad world. Why step in and possibly screw that up?

Give him more credit. Hunter’s stronger than you assume.

Pounding on the driver’s-side window startled Riley, nailing him right in the heart. The thump, thump, thumping in his chest sped, then slowed. The Grizzly-Adams-looking dude eyeballing him could’ve cleaned his clock. For. Sure.

Hesitantly, Riley rolled down the window. “Um. Hi. I….”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I… I’m….”

“You’ve been coming here for weeks, sitting out in this car, watching us. What’s your deal?”

Riley fish-mouthed. He wasn’t sure what to say, what kind of lie he could tell to get him out of this mess.

“Who. The hell. Are you?” As he bit the words out, the guy placed a strong hand on the door, gripping where the window had rolled into the door, leaning in closer to Riley. “This is a small town, and I’m here every day. It’s not hard to notice this… car sitting here when you do it as often as you do. Now what do you want?”

“I was… I mean, Hunter is….”
Coherent thought, dipshit.
Riley’s internal chastising didn’t seem to be doing any good. In fact, the more he berated himself, the more idiotic he acted. He pointed a thumb at his own chest. “Me. Riley.”
You. Tarzan.

The big guy’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Okay,” Big Dude drawled. “You Riley. Me Travis.”
Travis?
As in Travis Morgan? Now that Riley looked at him, he did favor Hunter. Okay, maybe this guy was what Hunter would look like if you stuck an air pump up his ass and inflated him, but Riley could see it. He didn’t know much about Hunter’s brother, but knew there had been problems in the past. Things were supposed be good now, but….

“So, You Riley, what are you doing out here?” Geez, did this guy have an expression other than hardass? “Did you need Hunter? You’re not a crazy ex or anything, are you?” That thought made Travis visibly uncomfortable.

“No,” Riley blurted, slamming a hand down on a bigass arm. When he realized what he’d done, he winced and jerked back. “No. I just wanted—”

The sight of Hunter stepping out of one of the open bays stole Riley’s voice and his train of thought. Damn, he looked good. He’d bulked up just a little, probably from turning wrenches all day. And he had a little extra weight to him—the good kind of weight, like he was healthy again. He looked healthy. Pecs all hard and rounded. His abs were defined, and fuck if that new tat on his ribs wasn’t lickable as hell. Riley pinched his lips together, swallowing hard.

Don’t focus on that. Hunter’s in a good place right now. Don’t go screwing around with that. He looks happy and….

Another guy stepped out of the bay, smiling and running his fingers through his wavy golden-blond hair. His skin was sun-kissed, and he had
GQ
written all over him. Then he leaned in and wrapped both arms around Hunter’s shoulders. Hunter returned the embrace, threading his arms around Blondie’s waist. Riley felt himself pale, very literally felt all the color and warmth rush from his face. His stomach knotted.

Hunter
was
happy.

“I should go,” he somehow managed to choke out around the bile rising in the back of his throat.

Travis’s brow furrowed. He followed the line of Riley’s vision to where Hunter and Blondie were laughing together. Blondie pulled a face, wiping his front with exaggerated motions, and wiped his hands over Hunter’s sweat-shined torso like he was putting the sweat back on him. Or copping a feel. Fucking Blondie.

“So, crazy ex. Got it.” Riley snapped his gaze back to Travis, whose jaw was ticking, eyes hard and dangerous. “You gonna leave, or am I gonna have to kick your ass to make you stay away?”

“N-no. No, not—”

“He’s been through enough, okay? I don’t know what he’s done. I know he was messed up, but man, he’s good, so can you not mess with him?”

“Yeah. No. No fucking with him. I won’t come back. I swear.” Riley turned the ignition, bent on motoring the hell out of there as fast as he could, but the damn engine wouldn’t turn over. He popped the dash, and of course, the fucking glove box chose that moment to flop open and spill a stack of letters into the floorboard. As if life couldn’t get any worse right now.

Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Riley sat back in his seat and reached up to turn the key again, praying like hell God would do him a solid and his little Kia would fire up. It didn’t.

“You must own the sorriest stalker-mobile I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Travis’s eyes were still hard, but he seemed pleased by Riley’s predicament. “If that ain’t instant karma, I can’t say as I know what else it is, bub.”

Suddenly the door was jerked open. “You’re only gettin’ free service ’cause I want you to get the hell outta here.” Riley squawked when a firm hand gripped him by the bicep and yanked him from the car. He didn’t know which to panic about first: that he’d been manhandled or that he’d been yanked out into plain sight. He checked first, freaking out to think maybe Hunter had already seen him before he could throw himself under the car.

He breathed a sigh of relief to see Hunter had turned his back and was disappearing into the shop. Then he growled under his breath when he saw Blondie hot on his trail.

“Hey,” Travis rumbled.

Riley turned to him, and fuck if Travis wasn’t holding up the envelopes that had fallen from the glove box. “You.” He pinned Riley with his gaze. Damn his legs for not working. He was frozen. Fuck jumping under the car; now he wanted to fling himself into oncoming traffic.

“Me?” he squeaked.

“You’re the Guy.” Travis’s voice held a reverence, eyes softening. He said
the Guy
like one might’ve said
the Holy Grail
when they wandered up on it in the
Last Crusade
. Well, maybe not with that much brevity, but he definitely inflected
the Guy
like it was special.

“The Guy?” Riley asked.

“The one he doesn’t know I know he writes to.”

That cleared things up.
“Um, what do you mean?”

“Yeah. Y’all must get along swell. You’re about as subtle as him.” Travis unfolded his larger frame from the matchbox Kia. “Why ain’t you said anything to him yet? I thought you were still in that place.”

How did this guy know so much? Riley’s expression must’ve begged the same question, because Travis shrugged innocently. “What? I’m nosy. I can’t help he leaves shit layin’ everywhere.”

That explained it.

“So, why don’t he know you’re out?”

Sheepishly averting his eyes, Riley scrubbed at the back of his neck. The answer to that question was a simple one, talked about ad nauseam with the only other gay guy at the halfway house. That fucker wasn’t any help, though. He kept telling Riley to go for it, sort of like Jerry’s silly ass did.

“Looks like he’s doing great. No need in rocking the boat, right?”

Travis looked over Riley’s shoulder—no, over his head. “Oh, you mean pretty boy?” Riley didn’t dignify that with a response. “They just left, by the way. Coast’s clear. But yeah, you’re a dumbass.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“I’m just sayin’. That’s that Shane fella’s—one Hunter called Bubba—brother, Morgan. They got tight after he died, I guess. Friends tried to hook ’em up—”

“I don’t need—”

“Yeah, you do. Know what he did that night?”

“Please, no….”

“You think I’m that big a dick? I’m tryin’ to help you here. So shut your smart mouth. Dang, how’d y’all ever talk to each other with all your interrupting each other?” Travis seemed genuinely perplexed by the thought. He scowled and continued. “He came here that night. I stopped in to fuss at him for being here so late working. Turned out the damn fool was writing to you. Said it wasn’t the right time to try movin’ on. Didn’t even realize he was hung up on someone he’d met… in there…. Not ’til that night, anyways.”

“I didn’t….” The hand that had been worrying the nape of Riley’s neck slipped down, down to his chest. He needed it to hold his heart in place. It felt safe there, like he could keep the damn thing from thumping out of his chest. All this time, he’d thought Hunter had moved on and didn’t need him anymore. Didn’t want him anymore. “He’s not the only one hung up, I promise.”

Licking his lips, he looked back at the garage, but all he envisioned was Hunter being hugged by some guy who obviously had his shit together so much better than Riley did.

“I wanted to talk to him, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want… to mess things up, you know?”

“I’ll never understand…. You know what? You two stubborn asses deserve each other.” He shook his head, quite obviously exasperated. He bent back inside the open car, popping the hood. He wandered around to the front, grumbling to himself the whole time. That was when he and his brother favored one another most. That grumbling, the facial expression.

Travis raised the hood of the car, making noises as he looked and did whatever one does under there. He popped his head around long enough to say “Give me a sec.” Then he took off, running across the street to the garage, disappearing into one of the bays. After a few seconds he came back, trotting up to Riley, pointing the business end of a pair of pliers into his face. “I’m gonna do you a solid.”

Travis went back under the hood, making up colorful words to replace curse words for some reason. Either way, when he stuck his head around, directing Riley to try cranking his “garbage on wheels,” Riley was able to start it right up.

“Thanks,” Riley said. “For the solid.”

“Oh, no. That ain’t the solid.”

Riley was confused. And he really wished the guy would stop saying
solid
like the word was hip or something. “Then what’s this… favor?”

“Already done. When I was inside I put your clunker here in for a free tune-up. Ten thirty in the morning. Be here. Hunter’s gonna make this thing do something that resembles running. You can thank me later. I like steak. Would say beer, but Hunter might get offended.”

“Wait. What? No.” Riley shook his head furiously, eyes nearly bugging out of his skull. “I can’t. He can’t. We can’t.”

“Stop. Just… stop. Reel it back in, boy.”

Riley took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate—”

“If you appreciate anything, you’ll be here at ten thirty in the morning. You got all night to figure out what you’re gonna say. More than he’s getting, which means you might get a word in. Surprises shock him into silence.”

Travis didn’t give him a chance to argue. He spun on his mammoth-sized boot, popped the pliers into his back pocket, and started back across the street. Riley would’ve yelled out something about not being there because there was no way in hell this was going to happen, but by the time he figured out he had enough balls to say no to a man that size, it was too late.

Chapter 25

“I
GOTCHA
.
How ’bout we do the four thirty meeting that day, then? We’ll have plenty of time to meet up with your woman after if we do that.” Hunter stared at the computer screen, checking for a headlight he was going to need for a car he had coming in later in the afternoon.

“Sounds good. Oh, but don’t let Mel hear you calling her
my woman
. You know her weird feminism thing.”

Hunter scoffed into the phone. “You’d think you’d be the one who’s all
fuck the man
.”

“Way to stereotype, jerk,” Gianna said, mock affronted.

Hunter smacked his hand on the desk when he saw he didn’t have the part he needed. “Shit.”

“It’s not that serious. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh, no. It’s not you, Gia. I gotta get off here, though. I’m gonna have to call the part store and get them to send me down something.” He checked the time on the computer, then looked to see when his next appointment was due. “Damn, and I gotta do it quick. I’ve got five minutes until this tune-up.”