Devon Rhodes The Swap

WAP

…Tommy disappeared into Jim’s kitchen and returned with two

opened bottles of beer. “I ordered before I came. Pizza’s on its way,”
he informed Jim as he settled on the couch. On Jim’s cushion.

Damn it to hell.
Grumbling as he made do with the middle of the couch, Jim glared

at the man. “I don’t need your damn sympathy or your pizza. I just
want to chill out. Alone.”

“You’ve got to eat,” Tommy reasoned, maddeningly sure of his

welcome. At least most of him was. The smallest of signs, a clenching
jaw, gave him away. Jim could almost see the stranglehold Tommy
had on his responses.

Lips curving slyly as the possibilities ran through his head, Jim

decided on silence as the first means of torture.

The minutes ticked by as they both drank their beer, and Jim began

to frown. Tommy should be talking up a storm by now. About to
burst, wondering who was torturing whom, Jim decided on another
tactic; he sighed loudly.

Peering at Tommy when the expected question didn’t come,

irritated as hell that the usual methods of getting Tommy going
weren’t working, Jim pulled out the big guns.

“So what was that kiss today all about?”
Bingo. Tommy tensed from his head to his toes, his mouth opening

to speak. But before the payoff, there was another knock at the fucking
door. God, between the phones and the door, Jim’s apartment had
suddenly turned into Grand Central Station…

THE SWAP

DEVON RHODES

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

WAP

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-60272-738-0

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Shellie, I would have never

finished this without you along for the ride.

And for Shawn, for being there from the beginning.

Thanks and much love to you both.

THE SWAP

CHAPTER 1

Jim stopped short at the threshold of his boss’s office, his heart

seizing with dread at the sight before him. The normally
commanding and in-control Keith had his head in his hands.
Coupled with the visitors Keith had just had, that didn’t bode well
for any of them.

Plastering a normal-feeling grin on his face in spite of his

apprehension, Jim scuffled his feet a bit as he resumed walking
into the shop foreman’s office. “Hey, boss. Free for a late lunch?
Sorry, got tied up on a project.” And was waiting for your
unexpected company to leave.

“Jim. Close the door.”
Keith didn’t bother looking up, and Jim dropped the useless,

carefree façade as he closed and locked the door, then sat down

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and waited for the hammer to drop.

The silence stretched between them, and finally Jim couldn’t

stand to watch Keith trying to get up the courage any longer.

“So, the suits just left,” he prompted.
“Yeah.”
“How bad is it?”
“Pretty fucking bad, Jim. Shit.” Keith scrubbed at his face,

refusing to look up. Jim might’ve suspected any other man besides
the one in front of him of crying. But not Keith, surely…

“They shutting us down?”
An ironic snort. “Not quite. Skeleton crew starting on Monday.

Coming down as layoffs, since things ‘might pick back up.’” Keith
finally pulled his hands away from his face to make quotation
marks with his index fingers, and Jim got his first look at Keith’s
eyes. Reddened from the rubbing, Jim was relieved to see they
nonetheless held their usual determined glint as Keith somberly
met his gaze.

Jim gave a short nod of acknowledgement, steeling himself.

“The machinists?”

“Decimated. Just about the whole roster, except for two.” Keith

looked supremely uncomfortable, jaw clenching.

Only two? Jesus. “Seniority, probably had to use first in/first

out,” Jim speculated aloud. No response from Keith but a slightly
pitying look in his eyes. Jim looked down at his hands, ever-
present grease darkening the nails and knuckles.

“So Martinez stays. And…Graves?” Didn’t take Jim long to

count to two. Full stop. Confirming his own imminent departure
made his chest feel as though an engine block had just dropped on
it, but even so, a part of Jim was relieved that his friends would be
spared the carnage. Martinez had—what?—five kids? And Tom

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was just getting back on his feet after a nasty divorce.

“Not Tom.” Keith corrected quietly. “You.”
His head snapped up so quickly his neck popped. “What?

Tommy’s been here longer than me. Hell, he trained me. That can’t
be right.”

“Yeah, but with your schooling you have more experience with

the computer modeling, making the adjustments in-house instead
of having to send the specs back to the geeks every time something
doesn’t work.” The excuse rolled off Keith’s tongue as if he’d
rehearsed it. Which he probably had. Loyal bastard.

At once grateful and appalled, Jim jumped to his feet,

slamming his hands on the desk. “That’s bullshit, Keith. You know
Tommy can take and tweak anything and make it work, with or
without engineering courses. That’s why we call him Maestro—
he’s a frigging natural.”

“I can’t believe you’re arguing this,” Keith yelled back. “Fuck,

Jim. I saved your fucking job. What the hell? It’s like you’re trying
to talk me out of it.”

What was he doing?
For a moment, Jim was tempted to just back off and accept the

news, but the image of Tommy’s recent transformation from
haunted to hopeful burned in his brain. Jim’d do anything to make
sure he never went back to hopeless again. Even this.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Right is right, man. First in,

first out. You need to keep Tommy.”

Keith stared at him, shock written on every feature. “You’re

serious.”

Jim nodded, resolute. He tried not to let himself think of the

consequences just yet. He’d have plenty of time to ponder
unemployment in the weeks and months to come.

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His boss slumped back in his chair and Jim knew he had won.

Or lost, as the case may be.

“But I just gave his name to Central Accounting.” Keith

weakly tried one last time to give Jim the out.

“Call ’em back. It’s okay, Keith,” he added in a softer tone.

“I’ll be fine.” He gestured to the phone. “Go ahead. I’ll even stay
here and give you support while you can my ass,” he teased.

“Fuck. Off. Asshole.” But Keith grudgingly picked up the

phone and speed-dialed Accounting. They’d known each other
since they were kids, and obviously Keith could see that Jim
wasn’t backing down on this.

“Yeah, Carson here. Put a stop on the final for Graves. Uh huh.

Yeah, I’ll fax a new one. Uh, the final name in that cost center’ll
be James LaRue.” Keith shook his head without looking at Jim and
heaved a sigh. “Okay, I’ll get it right over. When will the courier
be here? Fine, I’ll schedule the all-staff for four o’clock then.
Bye.” Keith disconnected. “You asshole. Making me fire my best
friend. Sandy’s gonna kill me.”

“Sandy’ll understand. She’d be more pissed if you kept me

around just ’cause I’m your friend. Nepotism and all that shit.” Jim
stood, the swirling pressure of conflicting emotions making him
feel like his chest was about to burst open. He was glad to be doing
the right thing, but hell, who wanted to be out of work? Especially
with jobs about as rare as he liked his steak. Bloody business,
either way.

“Gotta get back to work, work through lunch, get as much as I

can done. Tommy and Piero are gonna be swamped by
themselves.”

Keith’s lips pressed so flat they were white around the edges.

“You’re a good guy, Jim. God, this sucks.” He stood and walked

THE SWAP

around the desk. “I promise you’ll be the first guy I take back as
soon as I can.”

“I know.”
“Are we cool?” He hesitated. “I mean, as friends.”
Jim gave a snort. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Carson.

Twenty years or whatever? Been through worse and came out fine.
Oh, and Keith?” He met his friend’s gaze steadily. “All this is
between us, okay?” Keith frowned and opened his mouth as if to
protest, and Jim held up his hand. “All right, and Sandy.” That
finally got a reluctant smile out of Keith. “I just don’t want
Tommy to know how close he came. He’s had a shit year.”

Keith cocked his head in frustration, but kept any protests to

himself. “Fine, I won’t tell Tom or the guys. But I still think he
should know what you did for him. Someday.”

“Maybe after everything settles down,” Jim hedged, knowing

he’d never go there. He didn’t want to be a “hero,” and he sure
didn’t want any speculation as to why he’d given up his livelihood
for Tommy. And he knew Tommy—he would go ballistic and
mess up the whole thing with some grand gesture if he knew what
Jim had just done for him. Better off to have it stay between him
and Keith.

And Sandy.
And Central Accounting.

* * *

Of course the first person Jim ran into after leaving Keith’s

office was Tommy, coming down the hall wiping his hands on a
rag, huge smile appearing on his face as he saw Jim.

“Hey! I have some great news. But first, is the boss still in his

THE SWAP

office?”

“Uh, nope.” Jim winced as Keith’s unmistakable voice just

then called for his secretary. “Well, yeah, but he’s on the phone.
Really busy. Too busy to talk. Why, what’s up?”

“Oh.” Tommy stopped in his tracks. “I just wanted to ask him

about the time off.”

For a brief one-track moment, Jim’s brain thought he said

“layoff.” He finally caught up mentally. “Time off? What time
off?”

Tommy’s grin resurfaced, transforming his regular features into

something memorable and special. “Got the official closing date on
the house, so need to take a morning off to break my hand signing
my name about a gazillion times.”

“That’s great, man.” Tommy’s grin was contagious, and Jim

mentally clapped himself on the back for what had just gone down.
Tommy had gone through two years from hell, culminating in a
nasty divorce this winter that left him broken and silent. After a
couple months of doing a great imitation of the walking dead, he
finally got interested in living again—by house-hunting. A serial
renter like Jim, it was all the hoopla about the tax credit and low
interest rates and bottomed-out market that got Tommy excited
about maybe buying a house of his own. A new start, he called it.

So Jim had tagged along on many of Tommy’s weekend house

hunts and open house crawls. Not sure just how serious Tommy
was, but glad he was embracing life again, Jim humored him as
they went through home after home. And then one day, they’d
found it—the house. A fixer, yeah, but all stuff that Tommy was
well-capable of turning around given enough time; a grand, old
place with great bones under the bad decorating taste and poor
upkeep. It was a short sale, listed for a song, so Tommy had made

THE SWAP

his best offer and sweated through the long wait for an answer.
Finally, in late April, just before the government tax credit would
expire, he got his answer—Tommy was getting his house.

He tuned Tommy back in. “…and got a call from the title

company to set up the appointment. This is it! Gonna hand over
my check in two weeks and sign everything and get the keys. Then
I can get to work on the renovations. Gave my apartment complex
my thirty-day notice last week. I figure I can live in part of it while
I do the work. You know. One bathroom at a time, do a lot of
takeout and grilling while I do the kitchen. That sort of thing.”

There was a pause, and Jim tried to insert a congratulatory

comment, but Tommy barely took a breath before he was off
again. “Guess it’ll take me about two months to get it all done in
the evenings and on weekends. Depends on the subs I hire, too, I
guess, but I’m thinking most of it either I can handle or we can do
it together.”

Jim blinked at his inclusion in the project, and some of it

must’ve shown on his face, because Tom suddenly reddened, smile
disappearing in a flash. “Sorry, making assumptions there. But
thought maybe I could talk you into helping out with some things
that need four hands instead of two.” Said hands—capable, with
long fingers that looked more suited to an artist than a machinist—
were currently twisting themselves into knots. Jim knew that
Tommy’s self-esteem had taken a huge hit when most of his so-
called friends had disappeared—or worse, turned on him—during
the course of his toxic marriage and divorce.

“Of course I’ll help. Every minute I can spare.” From job

hunting, he finished in his head.

“Thanks, Jim.” Tommy’s throat worked as he swallowed

before adding sincerely, “It’s good to have someone I can count on

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for a change.”

“No sweat, Maestro.” His response turned on that smile again.

Oh, he’s killing me here.

Jim felt a stirring in his groin and knew it was time to go before

he shocked the hell out of his friend. Tommy had no idea that his
good buddy Jim was an equal-opportunity kind of guy. With a soft
spot—hard spot?—for a certain blond machinist…

“Gotta get back to work. I’d say leave a note in Keith’s box

about the morning off.” Jim walked away, trying to make himself
scarce before he did something else he would regret. He’d already
fulfilled today’s quota of crazy moments. Three more hours until
the meeting.

Four more hours until he was unemployed.
Am I being a shmuck or noble?
Jim gave a humorless little laugh as he reached his familiar

work station, looking at it with new eyes. Pretty fine line between
the two…and he was straddling it.

Painfully.
Oh, his aching balls…

THE SWAP

CHAPTER 2

All-staff meeting at four? Huh.
That hadn’t been on the board in the break room, had it?

Tommy tried to think as he rubbed the back of his neck before
shrugging it off. Busy as he’d been with the whole closing process,
it wasn’t surprising he’d missed something like a workplace safety
seminar, or whatever it was. Good thing Keith had come around in
person to remind them. Tommy would’ve probably been right in
the middle of something.

“Hey, Piero. So what’re we learning today?” he spoke loudly in

the din of the shop.

“Who knows?” came booming response. “They’re always

doing something. I just hope it doesn’t take too long. My oldest has
a baseball game.”

THE SWAP

“Yeah, hope it’s not CPR again already. I hate that.”
Piero laughed out loud. “Why? What’s wrong with CPR?”
Tommy used a finger to hook out the hair that had gotten

caught inside his hearing protection. Time for a haircut soon. “Oh,
you know. The whole part where you have to yell as loud as you
can: ‘Somebody call nine-one-one!’ like an idiot.”

“Ha! You jerk.” Piero slapped the metal counter, cracking up.

“You’re gonna let somebody die because you don’t want to yell?”

“No!” Tommy rolled his eyes. “I’d do it if it was for real. I just

didn’t want to do it in the break room in front of…everyone.” Even
though he was hot with embarrassment, his lips were twitching
with the effort it took to keep from smiling.

“Just because that instructor made you do it five times because

you weren’t loud enough…”

“Shut up!” Tommy was flushed at the memory of the

frighteningly attractive male instructor finally telling him he’d fail
him if he didn’t do it right. “It wasn’t five times, maybe three. But
still—”

“Hey, pipe down! Some of us are actually trying to work here.”
Tommy spun around to face Jim at his workstation on the other

side of his, ready to involve him in the heckling, but the tight,
pissed off look on Jim’s face had his response drying in his throat.
Christ, is he serious?

“Screw you, LaRue,” Piero chimed in. “Like we’re even busy.

Barely have enough work to stretch our days out anyway.” Piero
still had a smile in his voice, probably thinking Jim was joking
around, but Tommy knew him well and he looked really upset.

“Hey,” he called to Jim, soft enough that he wouldn’t be

overheard. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Nothing. Not a thing. Just trying to do my

THE SWAP

job.”

Feeling hurt, but not quite knowing why, Tommy gave Jim’s

averted face one last probing glance, then turned away. Starting
toward the door, he heard Piero yell as he passed, “Where you
going, Graves?”

“Bathroom. Wanna come hold it?” he bantered back as he

walked by.

“You wish.”
Tommy gave him a thumbs-up without looking and continued

out the door, not stopping until he was in the bathroom splashing
water on his face. His stomach roiled. What an up and down day.
The up part was understandable, he was itching to get started
working on his—his—house. And the end was finally in sight. It’d
been a stretch to qualify on only one income, but in this case his
lack of college degree—and the subsequent lack of student loan
debt—had probably been a good thing. But soon he’d be making a
house payment instead of paying a landlord. He couldn’t wait.

The down part was a little less clear. Jim’s moodiness had the

effect of a needle pricking a balloon. And he didn’t really get why.
Certainly it was an overkill reaction to have your whole day crash
down just because a friend gave you a snarky comment.

But you want to impress him. And that makes him a little more

than a friend.

“Shut up.”
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
Tommy spun around, catching himself on the sink when he

started to lose his balance. Cheeks heating at his clumsiness, he
reluctantly faced Jim. Way to go. That’ll impress him. He might be
able to work magic with his fingers, but his large motor skills were
apparently still at toddler-learning-to-walk level.

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Don’t forget he caught you talking to yourself, his brain piled

on gleefully.

Barely catching himself before saying shut up out loud again,

he instead grabbed a paper towel. “What’s up, Jim? You’re acting
kinda cranky.”

Jim gave a strange, mirthless laugh. “Cranky? What am I, a

kid?”

Tommy waited patiently as Jim shuffled in place—practically

dancing with the discomfort he was exuding—knowing he’d
eventually spill if he waited long enough. And he was right.

“I just…got some bad news today. Sorry to take it out on you

guys.”

Feeling a rush of sympathy, Tommy immediately crossed to lay

a hand on Jim’s arm. “Something happen to someone? News like
that?” He could feel the muscles tense under his hand, rolling the
skin as if trying to eject Tommy’s hand from the surface.

“No,” Jim began slowly, watching Tommy’s hand pat his arm

while myriad emotions crossed his face. He sighed, seeming to
come to a difficult decision. “It’s about work.”

“Work?” Tommy was confused at first, then recalled having

seen a serious-looking Jim come back from his regular lunch break
with their boss, Keith—the only workplace concession the two
made to their lifelong friendship—much earlier than usual. Put that
together with how slow business had been lately, plus the meeting
at four…

The blood drained from his face, leaving him feeling woozy.

“Are they closing us down?” A head shake. “Layoffs?” Tommy
waited for another denial, but didn’t get one. Instead, Jim slid his
hand over Tommy’s where it rested on his arm.

“Layoffs?” he repeated, stupidly. His mind was racing.

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Oh, God. Laid off? No income?
He would lose the house. His earnest money. Oh, and Christ,

he’d given notice at his apartment and knew they’d already re-
rented it beginning less than a month from now.

Me? Homeless?
Trying hard not to hyperventilate, he looked up at Jim, who

looked startled at first then ashamed.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have broken it to you that

way. Your job is safe.”

The words barely penetrated the haze of panic, but when they

did, Tommy hand clenched on Jim’s arm.

“What?”
“Your job is safe,” Jim repeated.
“Safe. You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Jim’s eyes were steady on his, reassuring. Tommy

tried to force himself to calm down. Jim said he was safe. He
wouldn’t lose the house.

But the adrenaline rush had left him shaky and humming and

needing comfort. At least that’s what he would tell himself later.
Now—in this moment—there was nothing he needed more than to
be grounded, and he found himself leaning forward and pressing
his lips to Jim’s.

For a moment they were pliant but still under his. Full, warm.

For a moment, it seemed as if he’d made the right choice—taken a
risk and had unexpectedly come out a winner. All this flew through
Tommy’s head in a heady instant. His lips opened, brushing
against beard stubble for the first time in his life. He’d waited so
long for this…

Then the moment was over. Jim pulled away so suddenly,

Tommy once again found himself struggling for balance. The

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blood that had been thickening his dick rushed straight to his
cheeks, leaving him blessedly soft as he righted himself and braced
for the worst, heart thumping. Alone in the small bathroom, shop
noise insulating them from the outside, there was little he could do
if the much larger Jim decided to pummel him.

His misapprehension must’ve been plain on his face. “Jesus.

Take it easy. You really think I’d hit you?” The disappointment
evident in Jim’s tone was yet another thing to pile atop the crap
pile that was the past ten minutes.

Tommy braved a look at Jim, whose achingly familiar face,

though currently showing disgust—at himself? Or Tommy?—
calmed him. “No. Of course not,” he asserted reassuringly. Well,
not except for that brief horrible moment just now, which didn’t
count. “Just, uh, not sure why I did that and you seemed mad, so
I…”

“Don’t go into your babble mode. It’s okay. You got carried

away with all the crazy panic from the news. I get it.”

Tommy was relieved to hear the convenient out so matter-of-

factly put and seized upon it. “Yes. I just thought, whoa, I’m gonna
lose all the money I’ve put down and the house and be homeless
and then you said it was going to be okay, so I just…” Tommy
could hear himself speed-tripping through his explanation but
couldn’t stop the flow. “Just was so happy that you said my job
was safe and I don’t know—it just seemed like the thing to do.
Pretty weird. Never kissed a guy before. I mean, why would I,
right?”

Jim was watching him, amusement warring with something

troubled in his expression, converging in a sad little smile. Tommy
made a Herculean effort to rein in his wayward mouth. “Sorry
about that, it won’t happen again. I mean, the circumstances,

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bathroom,” He waved a hand around vaguely. Bathroom? God,
somebody stop me . “Whatever.” Whatever? Nice. You sound like a
teenager. He cleared his throat. And ending that way sounded too
abrupt, the silence looming after his filibuster.

“Sorry.” Dammit, he’d already said that. “Again. I mean…”

Tommy trailed off in alarm as Jim began shaking. “Jim? Are you
okay?”

Jim threw his head back and burst out laughing like a loon, his

strong neck displayed to its full advantage. Relieved at first,
Tommy smiled along with him. After a couple minutes of hilarity,
during which Jim had tried several times to get control of
himself—only to lose it again as soon as he made eye contact with
Tommy—he was starting to get a little pissed off. It wasn’t that
funny. Finally fed up with being the butt of the joke, Tommy
shoved Jim backward and headed for the door.

“Wait. Sorry, bud.” Jim was wiping his eyes. “God, when you

go off… Man, I needed that. What a bizarre day.”

“Glad I could help.” Tommy was still a little ticked at being

laughed at, but hey—if he’d made a tough day easier for his friend,
it was worth it. The last bit of irritation slipped away, and he found
himself chuckling.

“Now what’s funny?”
“Oh, just thinking about that saying, about laughter being the

best medicine. It must be true. I’m feeling much better now.”

“It’s a good thing to remember,” Jim agreed, and his lips

curved into that sad little half-smile again before he preceded
Tommy out the door. As he passed Tommy, Jim mumbled
something half lost in the whine of a machine, something that
sounded like, “Hold that thought.” But Tommy couldn’t be sure.

THE SWAP

CHAPTER 3

Tommy fidgeted in his seat in the break room, glad that he had

gotten there early enough to be able to sit. His feet—even in the
expensive work boots especially made for comfort—were always
sore by Friday from standing and moving around on the
unforgiving concrete floor. Sure, he had a pad in a couple places in
his work area, and sometimes he could use the rolling stool, but…

Keith walked in and looked around the room, measuring the

attendance with his eyes. “We’ll get started in a few minutes.
While the last few people are trickling in, I need to see a few of
you in my office.” He named a couple salesmen who followed him
from the room. Minutes later, Jim slipped in, crossing to crouch
next to Tommy’s chair as he pulled off his safety glasses and
tucked them into his shirt pocket.

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“Hey.”
“Hey, Jim. So he just called a couple sales guys in,” he

whispered, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard.
“You think they’re staying or going?”

“I have no idea. Keith didn’t give me any details about how he

was going to handle it.”

“Well, we’re staying, so I guess we’ll know which way he’s

working it when he calls us.”

“Tommy…”
Keith walked back in the room. “Okay, now I need Martinez

and Graves.”

Glad he knew things would be okay—if not, Christ, he’d be a

wreck right now hearing his name called—Tommy rose and gave
Jim a quick grin. “See ya in a minute.”

“See ya, Tommy.”
Something in Jim’s tone niggled at Tommy but, conscious of

Keith and Piero waiting for him, he hustled down to follow them
along to Keith’s office. The first thing he saw when he sat down
was a huge stack of thick envelopes with preprinted labels on
them. Labels with names. Ugh.

Glad he couldn’t really read the name on the top one, he sat

down, not sure what to do with his hands. A nervous fluttering
began to build in his midsection. What if Jim had misunderstood?
Or maybe things had changed since he and Keith had talked.

Keith sat down heavily and cleared his throat. “Okay. I haven’t

really had time to rehearse this, so I’m just going to tell it like it is.
You guys know things have been slow for the last couple years.”

Tommy nodded.
“And we haven’t replaced most of the employees who’ve left

in that time. Well, the owners have decided that normal turnover

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isn’t enough anymore to trim costs. They need to take drastic
action.” Keith paused, and Tommy could almost see the weight
bowing his shoulders.

“They’re laying off about sixty percent of the workforce,

effective today.”

Tommy gasped in shock. “Sixty?”
“Holy crap,” Piero whispered as he crossed himself.
Keith held up a hand. “You two are going to be staying. I’m

calling in the ones who aren’t affected by the reduction and
sending them home before I have to…” Keith stopped for a
moment. “Before the rest get their news.” He cleared his throat
once again, and Tommy stood—seizing upon any reason to do
something—and walked over to the mini-fridge. Grabbing a bottle
of water, he tossed it to Keith, who sent him a grateful glance as he
opened it and took a swig.

“Things’ll be different on Monday, but plenty of time to talk

then. For now, go on home, guys.”

Keith and Piero stood, and Tommy thrust his hand across the

desk. “Sorry, boss.” Keith gave him a startled, questioning look. “I
know this must be hard for you.”

Piero offered his own hand in turn, shaking Keith’s

enthusiastically. “Thank you, boss. God bless. Thank you so
much.”

Out in the hall, Keith stoically headed once again to the break

room—for the next two survivors, Tommy surmised. Wondering if
Jim would be in Keith’s next duo, he was tempted to linger, but
with his move looming, he had some major packing to do. Keith’s
wife had told him to stop by for a bunch of special moving boxes
she’d saved from their recent move, partitioned for dishes and
whatnot, so maybe he’d head over there after a quick bite to eat.

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Might as well, he thought as he grimaced. Didn’t look like

Keith would be getting home anytime soon.

* * *

Sandy looked uncharacteristically drawn and haggard when she

opened the screened front door. Tommy felt a flash of shame at his
selfishness. In his relief at being spared, he hadn’t given a thought
for who might actually be on the list of cuts. What if Keith was
getting axed and letting everyone else go was his last task?

“Oh man, Sandy. Keith’s not out, is he?” He pulled the petite

strawberry blonde into a hug she gratefully accepted before
backing away to let Tommy into the house.

“No, sweetie. His job’s safe. It’s just hitting him so hard to

have to do this.” She led the way without preamble toward the
attached garage, pressing the lift as they stepped out. “He’s known
some of the guys he’s letting go since he was a kid.”

Getting the polite hint she’d rather be alone to stress in private,

he focused on the boxes she stopped in front of. “These the ones?”

“Yes, the special, expensive ones. Wardrobes, ones with dish

partitions. And here’s a stack of just plain old boxes that’re still in
good shape, broken down flat.”

“Wait. Expensive ones?” Tommy reached for his wallet.
“No way, mister.” She gave him a glare. “Remove the hand

from your pocket. I just meant relative to free, like the ordinary
ones from the back of the grocery store. Just pass them along to
someone else when you’re done.” A smile softened her face into a
more familiar look.

Tommy obediently let it go—mentally vowing to come up with

some way to do them a turn—and picked up the first load to take

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out. He threw back over his shoulder. “Yeah, maybe Jim’ll be next.
I think all the house-hunting we did got him interested in the
thought of home ownership, too.”

The name rolled casually off his tongue, but Tommy couldn’t

help but recall the way Jim’s lips had felt under his own. His cock
gave a twitch of interest. C’mon, not in front of the lady. He threw
the cardboard into the bed of his pickup and returned to the garage.

The pinched look was back on Sandy’s face. “Well, I guess that

won’t be happening now.”

Tommy froze, pausing in the act of picking up the remaining

boxes. “What do you mean?”

Sandy’s gaze slid away, causing a skitter of apprehension in his

chest. “Sorry, Tommy. I spoke out of turn. I can’t say anything,
you know?”

The awful truth was beginning to assert itself. “Jim? Jim’s part

of the layoff?” He waited, sick inside, until Sandy gave a reluctant
nod of confirmation.

Jim’s last words to him in the break room—See ya, Tommy.—

took on a hideous new meaning. Every interaction they’d had
today—the bad news from work he’d mentioned, his unusual foul
mood, the sad smiles—rushed through Tommy’s head with new
clarity.

“But he said…” Tommy trailed off. No. Jim hadn’t actually

said both of them were safe. Just Tommy. And Tommy, selfish
prick he was, hadn’t even thought to ask. He’d just assumed—and
made an ass of himself.

“Gotta go, Sandy. Thanks for the boxes.” Tommy was numb as

he threw the rest into the pickup and headed home. Why hadn’t
Jim told him? They had a relationship much closer than normal
coworkers.

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Yeah, kissing close.
He flushed at the memory. And then Jim’d had to deal with

Tommy going all weird and gay on him on top of everything else.
He was lucky he hadn’t gotten punched—regardless of Jim’s
understanding. With the day Jim had been having, the reflex
would’ve been totally excusable.

And speaking of reflexes…Tommy squirmed. What had he

been thinking, kissing Jim out of the blue like that? Yes, he was
attracted to men. That bent had been the destruction of his
marriage, or at least the cessation of his attraction to women had
been—if he had ever been turned on by them in the first place, that
was. With all the self-examination he’d done, he still didn’t know
whether he’d been trained to be straight as a young adult by the
macho, homophobic working class neighborhood he’d grown up
in, or whether he just…grew out of women.

And into men. Into Jim.
Because, face it, it was Jim that tripped all this triggers—Jim’s

face he’d assigned to every porn actor he’d watched and each
erotic fantasy he’d imagined. Tommy wasn’t out ogling the general
population or sneaking peeks at the urinals. He gave a short, self-
deprecating laugh as he pulled into his numbered space in his
apartment complex, glancing automatically across at Jim’s empty
parking stall in front of the next building over. No, the only guy he
was ogling—had ever ogled—was Jim.

That propensity had come as a complete surprise. One day

about three years ago, Keith had walked into the shop, laughing,
with his arm slung companionably around the shoulders of a tall,
broad man Tommy’d seen around town a few times. The sight of
his boss’s arm giving a short platonic side-hug before shoving the
chuckling man away had caused a strange, achy twist knotting

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tight in Tommy’s chest. It wasn’t until many months had passed
that Tommy finally owned up and gave name to that feeling—
jealousy. “Hi, Tommy Graves, right? Keith’s told me a lot about
you.”

The hand that had engulfed his was rough and callused with

neatly trimmed nails and a masculine scattering of dark hair on the
back. Warm brown eyes met his from behind the safety glasses.

“Jim LaRue,” he’d offered, and Tommy flushed as he realized

that he’d yet to say anything in return.

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m Tommy. Good to meet you.” His reluctance

to let go had the opposite effect. He’d dropped the large hand as if
it was on fire. Confused by his reaction, Tommy had covered as he
always did—what his sister termed “filibustering” or sometimes
“Tommy-babble.” He’d felt it welling up inside him—knew it was
coming, but also knew there was no stopping it once it began.

“You must be Keith’s friend from way back. I’ve seen you

around town and, of course, Keith’s mentioned you. Sandy, too.
His wife.” He’d shook his head as he’d watched Jim’s eyes widen
and he realized what he just said. “Of course, you knew that. You
were probably in the wedding. Duh.” Great first impression there,
Ace. Cut it off!

He had tried his damndest to stop right there. Honest. But when

he was nervous, he just had to fill any little bit of silence. And for
some reason, Jim made him nervous.

“Even if you weren’t, you would’ve known her. Lots longer

than me, too. I just met her recently but she seems really nice.
Good fit for Keith. Not that I’m a relationship expert or
anything…”

Jim had just reached right out and taken him by the upper arms,

leaning down to look him in the eyes from an intensely short

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distance. “Hey. Tommy?” Light squeezes had punctuated each
word, and Tommy stilled abruptly.

“Take a breath. Don’t talk, just breathe.”
Jim had led by example, as if trying to calm a hysterical person,

pulling deep breaths in, expanding that massive chest, before
blowing the air out with a slow, steady exhale. Tommy, amazingly
enough, had found himself quietly following along, mimicking
Jim’s slow breathing without a single word.

Inside, he’d felt the panicked need to fill the pause in the

conversation receding, as if the warmth of Jim’s hands had
somehow pulled the tension right out of him. Usually the only cure
once he got going was to abruptly walk away. But the empty quiet
was okay with Jim there, his larger-than-life presence more than
enough to do the job of filling the gaps. Starstruck and
uncharacteristically silent, Tommy had gazed at Jim in wonder.

“Jesus, Jim. What’d you do, rip his vocal chords out?” Tommy

hadn’t noticed Keith standing there. “So I guess you two met.
Tommy, I’m going to have you show Jim the ropes. He’ll work here
with you until he’s ready for his own jobs.”

Jim had been still intent upon Tommy. “Okay with that, bud?”
Tommy had nodded in response, not quite daring to speak

yet—just happy this man would be nearby. Something about him
just fit, filled some need he hadn’t known he had.

And that first meeting, still unbeknownst to anyone but

himself, was the beginning of the end of his marriage.

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CHAPTER 4

“Sorry, man,” Keith apologized for about the hundredth time in

the past hour.

Jim rolled his eyes, partly amused by his lack of originality, but

mostly just tired of having to reassure his old friend. “I swear to
God, if you apologize one more time, I’m going to shove you out
the door.”

It had been hard enough to sit through the meeting and listen to

Keith go over their severance packages—watching the sickening
expressions on good men’s faces as they learned they had just lost
their livelihoods. Keith’s calm demeanor might have fooled most
of his former employees during the meeting, but Jim got to see him
in the aftermath as he gave him a ride home. And he’d be cleaning
part of the aftermath out of his truck’s carpet this weekend.

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None too soon, they pulled up in front of Keith’s house.
Keith opened his mouth to speak, but Jim preempted him. “Go

see your wife. I’m fine. Just need this day to be over. ’Kay?”

Apparently Keith did, too, since a weary nod and half-hearted

wave were his only goodbye.

Pulling in to his apartment complex, Jim hopped out at the

office to grab his mail—junk and bills. Great. He passed Tommy’s
truck on the way to his building. Normally, he would’ve given
Tommy a ride home, too, but he’d told Jim he had errands to run
and had taken his own truck to work that day. Just as well. Jim
wasn’t sure he could have dealt with still-employed Tommy in the
truck, too.

The implications of being unemployed were starting to hit him,

and the bills he just got kicked his mind into gear. Unemployment
would help some, but his cash reserves weren’t as deep as usual
after the huge loan to his mom last fall. The one she hadn’t even
begun to pay back yet…and probably didn’t expect to.

Shit. Mentally recoiling from the conversation he knew he’d be

having with his mom soon, he shoved it away. Maybe next month.
He had a couple months of cushion…only because he had flat out
refused the first amount she’d asked for. His retirement savings
were there, but only if things got drastic, what with penalties and
all that.

Drastic might just happen. Not like there’s a lot of jobs open

out there for a skilled laborer, Jimbo.

As soon as he walked in the door, the blinking voice mail light

drew his eye—but most everyone he knew just called his cell
phone, and he wasn’t in the mood for a telemarketer. He tossed his
severance package envelope down next to the phone and let the
light blink as he headed straight for the shower, shedding clothes

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as he went.

The warm water sluicing over him eventually had the desired

effect of washing some of the day’s cares away, and his mind
turned to more welcome thoughts—like the memory of Tommy’s
lips opening over his. Alone, he could let the groan he’d pent-up at
the time fly, as he licked the moisture from his lips, almost able to
taste the flavor of the one man he’d been unable to put from his
mind. The one man he’d never had, but wanted with everything in
him.

To say he had been shocked by Tommy’s move was an

understatement. Tommy was straight as any good ole boy he knew.
He’d even been married, and to hear Marcy talk when Tommy’s
ex-wife had been drinking, Tommy was a tiger in the sack—and a
tomcat out of it. He’d never discussed it with Tommy, but he’d
heard through the barroom grapevine the reason for their divorce.
Marcy had discovered he’d cheated on her—online for sure, and
probably in the flesh besides.

But Tommy had always been strung pretty tight. And stress did

funny things to people, so maybe needing some good old-
fashioned human contact right then was understandable. As soon
as the thought formed, Jim was already shaking his head. No other
guy he knew, no matter how upset or relieved or whatever, would
have kissed another guy. There was something more at work here.

Jim mentally kicked himself for not taking full advantage at the

time—what had he been thinking? He was just so used to playing
his sexuality close to the vest at work, sheer survival instinct kept
him stone cold sane. Home and work? Not the places to advertise
being gay. Not in this town. Only on trips to the city did he let
himself loose, and even then, he kept things short and sweet. No
second helpings, and he’d kept that boundary very clear in his

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head. Even if Tommy was interested, it’s not as if they could have
a relationship or anything…but he couldn’t think of Tommy in the
context of a one-and-done either. Better to just steer clear.

But, oh, he had tasted so fucking good.
Jim slid his hand down his soapy abdomen and tried a do-over

in his head. One where the moment their lips touched, Jim took
charge—snaking one hand around Tommy’s lower back and the
other threaded into that silky-looking hair, cupping the back of his
head, holding him in place as Jim deepened the kiss. This time, he
welcomed the parting lips, slanting his own across as he stroked
his tongue inside, getting a fuller taste of Tommy, feeling the sleek
slide of the man’s tongue against his own.

Giving up on teasing himself, Jim took his hardening shaft in a

firm grip, the soap easing his strokes as his image of Tommy
shifted from a kiss to Tommy on his knees in front of him. The
vision of Tommy looked up teasingly at him from under his lashes
as he pulled Jim’s cock from his pants, but there was nothing
teasing about the way he took him into the warm depths of his
mouth. He applied just the right amount of pressure and suction to
ensure Jim wouldn’t last. And he didn’t, stripping the cum from his
cock, in his mind painting the back of Tommy’s throat as his friend
took everything he had to give.

Bracing himself with one hand against the tile, water cooling,

Jim heard the faint sounds of his cell ringtone, abruptly bringing
him back to grim reality—he was unemployed, and he’d missed a
golden opportunity with Tommy. One at which he might never get
another chance.

Jim haphazardly dried off and dug into his jeans’ pocket for his

phone. The missed call was from Tommy, as if Jim’s shower
fantasy had conjured him up. The voice mail hit his phone as he

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watched.

Getting really good at playing ostrich, he tossed aside the

phone without listening. Jim dressed himself in sweats and an old
T-shirt, grabbed a bottle of beer, and collapsed on the couch. He
had become mindlessly engrossed in a re-run he’d seen often
enough to know the lines, when the knock came at the door.

Shit.
The second knock came more forcefully, enough to convey that

the person on the other side knew he was home and wasn’t going
away. Ten to one it was Tommy, which Jim confirmed with a
glance through the peephole. Tommy looked determined and in for
the long haul.

With a deep sigh to bolster his nerve, Jim opened the door just

as Tommy was set to knock a third time.

“Hey.” His friend fell silent and shifted uncomfortably.
Jim stood back to let him in. “For someone who’s called at

least once—twice maybe?—and about knocked my door down,
‘Hey’ is the best you could come up with?”

That earned him a piercing look. “You’re not drunk yet.”
“Working on it.”
Tommy led the way into the living room, taking in the scene

before flipping on the lights and turning off the television.

“I was watching that, you know,” Jim complained.
Without a response, Tommy disappeared into the kitchen and

returned with two opened bottles of beer. “I ordered before I came.
Pizza’s on its way,” he informed Jim as he settled on the couch. On
Jim’s cushion.

Damn it to hell.
Grumbling as he made do with the middle of the couch, Jim

glared at the man. “I don’t need your damn sympathy or your

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pizza. I just want to chill out. Alone.”

“You’ve got to eat,” Tommy reasoned, maddeningly sure of his

welcome. At least most of him was. The smallest of signs, a
clenching jaw, gave him away. Jim could almost see the
stranglehold Tommy had on his responses.

Lips curving slyly as the possibilities ran through his head, Jim

decided on silence as the first means of torture.

The minutes ticked by as they both drank their beer, and Jim

began to frown. Tommy should be talking up a storm by now.
About to burst, wondering who was torturing whom, Jim decided
on another tactic; he sighed loudly.

Peering at Tommy when the expected question didn’t come,

irritated as hell that the usual methods of getting Tommy going
weren’t working, Jim pulled out the big guns.

“So what was that kiss today all about?”
Bingo. Tommy tensed from his head to his toes, his mouth

opening to speak. But before the payoff, there was another knock
at the fucking door. God, between the phones and the door, Jim’s
apartment had suddenly turned into Grand Central Station.

Tommy popped up and hurried to the door, returning with two

pizza boxes and a sack balanced on top.

His stomach, not caring one whit for subtlety or angst, chose

that moment to growl. Loudly.

That super-star smile stretched Tommy’s face. “Should I just

set it down and back away?”

“Just get us another beer.”
Tommy was still grinning when he returned with the drinks.

Jim ignored him and rummaged in the bag. Breadsticks with
dipping sauce—score.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Jim accused around his

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mouthful of breadstick.

“What am I trying to do?” Tommy humored him while

checking the contents of the boxes.

Jim purposely double-dipped. “You’re trying to cheer me up

with food and company. It’s not going to work.”

Tommy pulled a second container of sauce out of the bag.

Tricky fucker, ordering two.

“I’m not trying to cheer you up. Just being supportive.

Actually, I’m pretty pissed at you.”

Jim almost inhaled his breadstick in shock, and had to clear his

throat before answering. “What? What the hell did I do?” Oh shit,
did he find out about the last minute swap? Keith wouldn’t’ve told
him, would he?

He sobered and looked down at his hands. “Why didn’t you tell

me you were getting laid off? I thought we were friends, but I end
up finding out from Sandy. Not that she told me, told me. Shit, I
would’ve stuck around, and at the very least I wouldn’t have joked
around or been so happy about my own job being safe. There I
was, all freaking out and you said I was okay, and all I could think
about was myself. God, I feel like the most selfish prick for
assuming you were okay, too. But you didn’t even tell me, and
then I had to go and…”

Tommy went beet red, and Jim knew he was remembering the

kiss. The uncertainty in his eyes almost killed Jim as he finally
looked up.

“Is it because of what I did? I don’t know why I did that, but it

won’t happen again…”

“Tommy.”
“…you don’t have to worry about me. Shit, not that you’re

worried, I mean, you’ve got at least thirty pounds on me. So you

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wouldn’t…”

“Tommy.”
“…be in danger of me, not that I’d force myself on you or

anything but, oh God, this just isn’t coming out right…”

“Tommy!”
Finally getting Tommy’s attention, those huge blue eyes

squarely focused on him as he paused, lips parted as if just waiting
for the opportunity to go off again.

Restraint broken, Jim lunged, slamming down on those inviting

lips.

THE SWAP

CHAPTER 5

Tommy’s gasp seemed to draw Jim’s tongue in with it, and he

surrendered to the idea of never breathing again if it meant this kiss
could go on and on. No oxygen? Don’t need it. All he could think
about was that Jim was kissing him. Kissing. Him. Like he meant
it, whatever that meant.

Jim lifted his head. “God, do you ever stop? I swear I can hear

you thinking. Just enjoy it. Fuck.” And he lowered his head again,
Tommy taking his advice and just eating up the sensation of
having all of his dreams come to fruition so suddenly and
unexpectedly. He angled his head just a bit, trying to take the first
step toward turning in his direction, and Jim actually growled—as
if protesting any move he didn’t initiate.

Never had Tommy been more aware of the size difference

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between himself and Jim as when Jim pulled away and almost
tossed him toward the other end of the couch, immediately
stretching out to cover him. Pressed together from knees to groin to
chest, Jim took Tommy’s head in his large hands with an
unexpectedly gentle touch, and took his lips again in a moist,
clinging kiss that evolved quickly into a carnal, torrid mating.

Tommy could barely wrap his head around it. Just this

morning, he’d still felt as far away from making any of his
fantasies about what could happen between two men—between he
and Jim—as if it were a movie on the big screen, looming large as
life, but completely untouchable. Now he was kissing the object of
his desire for the second—third?—time today, and he hadn’t even
had dinner yet. Imagine what else might happen by bedtime…

Almost hyperventilating at the sudden stream of visuals that

conjured up, his cock the hardest it had ever been, Tommy moaned
repeatedly, instinctively spreading his legs, trying to get closer to
Jim…and it worked. Jim groaned low into Tommy’s mouth as he
settled in place, rocking against him, the fit natural and perfect.

It hit Tommy suddenly that Jim seemed a little bit too okay

with this, just too good at it to be doing it for the first time. Was he
gay? He turned his head abruptly to the side to try to get breath to
speak, but now Jim had access to his neck and made full use of it,
nibbling and licking and sucking his way down to the magic spot
where shoulder and neck and throat all came together. Tommy
found himself arching to give him more room to work before he
realized what he was doing.

“Jim.” His voice came out needy and wanting, not sounding

like himself at all.

“Mmm,” came the answering murmur against his neck and—

oh!—the vibration went straight to his cock, thrusting for counter-

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pressure against the matching ridge not in the least disguised by
Jim’s sweats.

What was he trying to do? Stop?
Why, you idiot?
Why indeed. Talking was overrated.
Tommy ran his hands down Jim’s back, learning for the first

time what it felt like to have a strong, muscular back under his
touch. When he reached the elastic waistband, he paused, unsure of
whether he should go any farther. Why not? Go for it, a hedonistic
part of himself piped up.

His hands apparently agreed, and slid that extra distance,

leaving the waistband behind and tracing over Jim’s taut ass. Full
and—he squeezed—tight, it felt like pure muscle under his
untutored fingers. Their heights were just different enough that Jim
was having to bend to get at Tommy’s neck, and as he squeezed,
Jim gasped, throwing his head back with the force of his reaction.
This left Jim’s neck open to exploration, and Tommy wasted no
time in running his tongue from the dip between his collarbones,
up his Adam’s apple and under his chin. Jim tasted clean with just
a hint of salt, but somehow very male. Mouthwatering.

Jim’s questioning gaze met his from just inches away. This was

Tommy’s chance to talk, to ask Jim the millions of questions
running through his head. But all Tommy wanted at that moment
was another kiss—and he took it, lifting his head, showing Jim
without words that he was as into this as Jim was, if not nearly as
experienced.

That’s right. That’s what he wanted to ask Jim.
He pulled back again. “Are you gay?”
In retrospect, it wasn’t the brightest question he’d ever asked,

considering their erections were still nestled together and they’d

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just pulled their tongues out of each other’s mouths.

* * *

What the hell was he doing?
If Jim could’ve smacked his forehead just then, he would’ve,

but his fingers were woven through Tommy’s hair, hands cupping
the back of his head, and it was beyond his capabilities at the
moment to extricate himself. What the hell had happened to his
shower-time “steer clear” affirmation? Tommy most decidedly did
not fit into the out-of-town-stranger category, and one-night-stand
category would be tough considering he lived about one hundred
yards away. That, and Jim had a sinking feeling that touching
Tommy would quickly become addictive.

He tried out the thought of him and Tommy walking into the

company Christmas party, hand in hand, and winced. Not going to
happen. Not in this town.

With grim resolve, he separated himself from Tommy before

coming back to his question. As he pushed himself off Tommy, it
was no contest between his rock hard prick and his baggy sweats,
and his cock continued to point straight at Tommy, as if seeking to
make contact again. Giving up any pretense at hiding his obvious
arousal, he gave his erection a smack that brought an empathetic
wince from Tommy.

Tommy wasn’t helping any, lying where Jim left him, sprawled

open and inviting, the ridge unabated against his zipper. Those
glacier blue eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips puffed and looking
for all the world like he’d just been kissed stupid.

Or had just given a hell of a blow job.
Not helping!

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“At this point, you probably wouldn’t believe any answer

except, ‘Yes, I’m gay.’ Right?”

Tommy gave a nod, eyes serious on his.
Wishing he could just walk away, or somehow play this all off

as some bi-curious or drunken or stress-induced mistake, Jim was
instead drawn back to the couch. He sat again, wisely keeping
some distance, and Tommy finally sat up, shifting a bit to adjust
his own erection.

“I am gay,” Jim admitted finally. “But you can’t tell anyone.

Anyone. It’s not public, and I damn well want to keep it that way.”
The moment the words left Jim’s mouth, he wished he could recall
them. It sounded like he didn’t trust Tommy, and sure enough, he
shot Jim a hurt look.

“Jesus. It’s not like I’m going to run out and kiss and tell, Jim.”
He thrust a hand impatiently through his hair. “Shit, I know

that. I’m sorry. I just never imagined having to have this
conversation with anyone, much less a friend or co-worker.”
Grimacing as he remembered they were no longer co-workers, Jim
watched Tommy as he jumped to his feet and walked over to the
window.

He whirled back around to confront Jim. “You didn’t tell me

you got laid off. You didn’t tell me you were gay. How good of
friends can we be? You obviously don’t trust me.” Jim began to
protest, but Tommy waved him off. “Actions speak louder than
words. Someone who’s a friend is the first person you’d go to with
things like this. Does Keith know you’re gay?” Jim’s face flamed
and he couldn’t deny it. “See what I mean? You can confide in
him, but not in me.”

Tommy gave a bitter laugh. “I’ll bet the whole time we were

kissing, your mind was on me outing you somehow. Don’t worry.

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We’ll go back to being buddies. And your secret is safe with me.”
Jim watched heavy-hearted as he sat down—in the chair this
time—and defiantly grabbed a piece of now-cold pizza. “Now that
that’s all out of the way, we can get to what I came over to talk
about. I want to hire you.”

“Hire me?” Jim echoed stupidly. All he could think about was

the shop.

“To be the general contractor for my house remodel. I had

honestly been batting around the idea of hiring a GC part-time
anyway, since I’m working solid hours during the day and can’t be
there to keep an eye on the subs. I figure I’d much rather pay
someone I know and…trust, than some stranger.”

The little pause tightened Jim’s chest, and he thought about

what the past half hour had cost him in terms of his friendship with
Tommy. If he’d known then how it would turn out, he would never
have opened the damn door.

Did he have trust issues with Tommy? Put as simple and baldly

as Tommy had laid it out, it was hard to deny. He hadn’t told him
about the layoff just because he’d been focusing on reassuring
Tommy, but would it really have been that difficult to just open his
mouth and say, “I’m gone,” rather than have Tommy find out from
someone else? He hadn’t been rushing to call him back and tell
him either. No, instead he’d holed up with his pride and
subconsciously waited for someone else to do his dirty work.

Coming out was another thing. Up until Tommy planted that

kiss on him in the bathroom, he’d been convinced the guy was
straight as an arrow.

Keith’s straight, and he doesn’t have any issues with it.
Yeah, but he’s the exception.
Apparently not.

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Jim winced. No, he hadn’t even given Tommy a chance.

Tommy had never indicated homophobia in any way, shape, or
form, and moreover, he was one of his closest friends. One that
he’d lied to on more than one occasion.

“Check you out! Is that a hickey on your neck?”
“Shit, you can see that? I thought the collar hid it.”
“Was her last name Hoover? About time you hooked up. Okay,

spill, Jim. You gonna see her again?”

“Nah, she wasn’t the long-term type.”
Tommy reading a text over his shoulder. Can u come over 2-

nite? “Who’s that from, new girlfriend?”

“Not interested, but she won’t take the hint.”
Jim wasn’t sure that working closely with Tommy was the

wisest thing to do after all that had transpired today. But he also
sensed that if he turned this opportunity down, it would likely cost
them their friendship for good—and the thought of throwing
Tommy’s faith in him back in his face right now was
unimaginable. Maybe given time he could earn back some of the
trust he’d taken for granted. Jim owed Tommy that much.

It was humbling—and troubling—to realize how wrong he’d

been. And if Tommy hadn’t exactly confided in him about his own
bent, well, two wrongs didn’t make a right. Besides, Jim had a
feeling Tommy’s attraction to men was about a couple kisses old,
whereas Jim had known about his preference for cock since he was
old enough to know what to do with one.

He looked up, and willed Tommy to sense his sincerity. “I’d be

happy to help you out. And I’m sorry about not telling you. No
excuses. Friends all the way, or not at all.”

Tommy relaxed back against the back of the chair and gestured

with the slice of pizza in his hand. “Can we move on from the

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touchy-feely shit? I’m starved.”

Jim got the unspoken message: We’re okay. “Go ahead and eat.

I’m not stopping you. Is one of these meat-lovers?” He opened first
one box top, then the other before he heard a choking sound from
Tommy.

Alarmed he looked up, only to see Tommy desperately trying

to swallow and laugh at the same time.

Tommy finally managed, “You’re a meat lover, huh?”
The meaning hit him and Jim threw back his head and laughed.

“Asshole.” Yeah, okay. Tommy knowing he liked men was far
from the worst thing that could have happened. This whole bizarre
day he’d gone through might actually turn out to be a good thing.

Jim held onto that thought with both hands.

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CHAPTER 6

It was a strange mix of elation and melancholy Tommy took

with him when he left the title company’s office with the keys to
his new house. Heading to his new place alone just drove home his
single status, and he wished he had someone to share the moment
with. Immediately Jim came to mind, but he ruthlessly quashed
that tangent.

Despite their joint efforts, their friendship had been strained at

best over the past two weeks. They’d seen each other almost daily,
and every time Tommy was near Jim, he remembered the way that
heavy body had felt pressing him into the sofa cushions, the way
Jim’s taste and scent had seeped into his memory, the sound of
Jim’s groan as he reacted to Tommy’s movements. He still yearned
for Jim, missed their closeness.

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Then he would recall the distance Jim had—consciously or

not—kept him at, and it was like a splash of cold water to his
arousal. Needless to say, it made being around the man awkward
and draining. They limited their conversations to construction
work and sports. Tommy hadn’t realized how often the two had
usually talked—and about such a wide variety of topics—until this
tension had settled in.

Even worse had been noticing, one night last weekend, Jim’s

truck had been gone all night. Tommy waited the next day for Jim
to mention where he’d been—surely an overnight trip warranted a
mention—but no explanation had been forthcoming. Jim had come
back from wherever he’d been in a surly mood, but Tommy had
gotten only a terse, “Nothing,” in response when he’d asked what
was wrong. Tommy dejectedly took that as more proof Jim wasn’t
interested in putting any effort into their friendship, and pulled
farther away himself. He would be glad when he got moved into
the new place and couldn’t be witness to Jim’s comings and goings
anymore.

Speaking of which…
Tommy pulled up in front of his house. A frission of

excitement zinged up his spine. His house. He climbed out of his
pickup, only to notice his wasn’t the only truck parked along the
curb. He’d pulled up right behind Jim’s pickup, but a quick glance
showed no driver. A bit puzzled, he walked toward the house. And
saw Jim…sitting on his front porch step.

A bubble of excitement broke free even with his cynical side

going after it with a viscous pin.

He’s just here to get to work and earn a buck.
But the expression on Jim’s face wasn’t avaricious or, worse,

uncaring. It was happy and proud. Another bubble of positive

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emotion welled up inside Tommy, taking his breath away.

“Hello there, sir. I’ve been admiring this fine place, and I’m

wondering if you know who the lucky owner is.” Jim’s banter
sounded so familiar, yet it rang with nostalgia, not recent
experience. Still, something within Tommy was eating it up.

“Why, that would be me.”
“Congrats, man. You did it.” Jim dropped the act and pulled

Tommy into a thumping hug. “I’m proud of you. Is it okay if I
come in with you and take a look?”

Tommy flushed with pride, but shrugged casually. “Nothing

different from when we were here with the agent a couple days
ago.”

“Yeah, there is. It’s yours now. That changes everything.”
Tommy’s breath caught at the earnest and heartfelt affirmation.

How had he thought their friendship was in question? Jim had been
with him every step on the way on this, and was still here for him
now. Tommy recalled how excited Jim had been for him when he
learned his offer had been accepted. Now not working, a house
probably seemed far out of reach for Jim, but he was still able to be
so honestly happy for Tommy…

He turned to apply the key to the door, trying to ignore the

prickling in his throat and his stinging eyes.

Might as well get it all over with.
Reaching into his front pocket as he stepped over the threshold

for the first time, he turned back to Jim. “Here you go. These are
yours.”

Jim looked down at the keys Tommy placed in his hand, then

back up at Tommy. He took one step forward, then another,
crowding into Tommy’s space in a way he’d conspicuously
managed to avoid for the past two weeks, since that crazy mixed

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up day where their worlds had turned upside down.

Rather than retreating, Tommy stood his ground and waited to

see what Jim would do. Stopping so closely Tommy could feel the
warmth radiating off his body, Jim gazed down into Tommy’s eyes
entreatingly. He didn’t have the wherewithal to turn Jim away, nor
did he want to, and he reflexively licked his lips, which seemed to
be enough of an invitation for the other man.

This coming together was slow and sweet, an asking, a

question. It felt like making up, which was crazy. It wasn’t as if
they’d been together romantically in the first place, much less
suffered a breakup. But it had been a severance, nonetheless, and
both men seemed to need the reassurance they were getting back
on track.

Tommy edged forward just a bit, enough so they now touched

along the lengths of their forms, fitting together in a way Tommy
had never experienced. The couple inches Jim had on him aligned
them in a much different way than Tommy, having only been with
women, was used to. It felt good, freeing somehow, to let someone
bigger and more experienced take the lead, and he poured his
acquiescence into the kiss.

This had the effect of throwing fuel on the fire, as Jim

apparently recognized the gift of Tommy’s submission to his
desire, and Jim turned them halfway around, thumping Tommy up
against a handy bit of wall. Jim ran his hands down Tommy’s
forearms, seizing his wrists and holding them up against the foyer
wall, effectively trapping him in place. Tommy groaned into Jim’s
devouring mouth as he rotated his hips against the hardness
grinding into his own, giving back as much as he took.

His hands were suddenly, shockingly free as he lost the anchor

holding him upright and foundered, only to hit the wall again as if

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magnetized when Jim’s hands went to work on the fly of his pants.
In just seconds, Jim’s warm hand was touching skin and he gritted
his teeth trying to keep from coming on the spot as the unseen
hand squeezed, then stroked his blisteringly hard shaft.

Tommy could barely take in enough air, then stopped breathing

entirely when Jim ran his hand over his dampened slit, then raised
his to his mouth and, holding Tommy’s gaze with his own, licked
his palm clean. The secondary reasons for Jim’s hedonism became
clear a moment later when he took him in hand again and used the
moisture he’d applied to his palm with his tongue to ease the glide
of his pulls.

The slick, spit-aided slide was too similar to his own method of

bringing himself off, and coupled with the fact it was Jim doing it,
Tommy knew immediately he wouldn’t last. And Jim knew exactly
what he was doing. And why wouldn’t he? So different from the
tentative and gentle touch of a woman, this large hand confidently
wrapped around his cock was practiced and perfect, bringing
Tommy stuttering over the edge in an embarrassingly short amount
of time.

He dropped his head, forehead to Jim’s broad shoulder, as he

cried out wordlessly, unable to give any warning. He barely knew
a second ahead of time before he clenched and shot, over and over,
Jim’s hand accepting his cum and giving an extra polish down and
over the sensitive top. He even knew instinctively when to stop,
when the sensation got to be too much.

Eyes wide open, looking down at his prick loosely supported in

Jim’s open hand, Tommy debated for all of two seconds before his
own hands reached for Jim’s zipper. Jim allowed him to take the
monumental step of reaching in and feeling the solid, silky warmth
of a cock not his own for the first time, before he stopped him,

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gently stealing his prize away.

Tommy murmured in protest at the loss, and Jim soothed him.

“Shh, just watch.”

Jim’s head dropped similarly to Tommy’s shoulder, so they

were both supporting one another, looking down between their
bodies. Aching to hold that weight in his palm again, Tommy
nevertheless did as he was bid and watched the show between their
relaxed forms.

At least he was relaxed. He could feel Jim growing more rigid

by the second, and he shamelessly, eagerly watched as Jim did
what worked best for him, making mental notes for later. He’d
never before seen another man’s erection in person, never mind at
so close a distance. The head was more defined than his,
mushroom-shaped rather than plum, and the color darker. Whereas
his cock was mostly smooth, the veins on Jim’s were pronounced
and getting larger by the minute. Jim’s twisting movement over the
top was not something he’d ever done.

Suddenly, it hit him—Jim was using Tommy’s cum to lubricate

his jacking.

“Oh, God, that’s so fucking hot.”
Jim’s breathing came faster on the heels of Tommy’s

admiration, and his strokes increased without fanfare to blurring
speed. A hitch in his breath, and then rope after rope of amazingly
white cum jetted out to decorate Tommy’s abdomen, his softening
cock, his pubic hair and the floor.

Jim’s hand slowed, milking lightly, and then finally stilled.

Tommy couldn’t wait any longer to touch the vision in front of
him. Running a fingertip through the ejaculate on his stomach, he
rubbed it between his finger and thumb, then lifted them to his
mouth. Briny, a touch bitter, and still warm. His mouth watered as

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the taste confirmed every fantasy he’d ever had about the man
breathless against him.

It had been a long time ago, maybe a year, since he’d first

tasted his own cum, pretending it was Jim’s. Now that he’d had the
real deal, he was hooked. And how. His new recreational drug of
choice…Jim’s semen.

He’d always imagined he’d be embarrassed to look a man in

the eye after something like this, most likely a holdover from the
repressive atmosphere in which he’d grown up. One he still lived
with, to some extent. But when Tommy raised his head to take in
Jim’s sated and mellow expression, he was able to smile, then
begin to laugh as he looked down at himself and the floor.

“Look at the mess you made,” he mock-scolded.
Jim’s slow, hot grin made his stomach flip as he agreed. “Quite

a mess. Let me just fix that for you.” And he dropped to his knees
in front of Tommy, whose spent cock made a valiant attempt to
express its approval of the position.

As if that wasn’t provocative enough, Jim then proceeded to

blow Tommy’s mind as he cleaned his spendings off with his
tongue, lips and fingers, lingering and reveling in the process. Jim
then took Tommy’s softened shaft between his lips and laved him
with his tongue, giving him a thorough cleaning. The shockwaves
through his system had him up on his toes. Never in his wildest
dreams would he have imagined getting his first blow job from Jim
while soft and covered in Jim’s cum. But there was something
extremely erotic about way Jim worshiped his penis and he
couldn’t mistake the enjoyment radiating from his partner.

His cock began to stiffen once again but, with that, it turned

sensitive. And not in a good way. Jim, ever attuned to his
reactions, gave one last lingering draw, then stood and tucked

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himself away while Tommy did the same.

Those warm chocolate eyes crinkled at the corners, and

Tommy felt as light as a cloud at the sign of Jim’s good humor.
Oh, he’d regretted the time they’d wasted which could have been
spent in more intimate fashion, but more than that, he’d missed his
friend.

“So. I take it you’re happy to get the keys,” he teased, and was

delighted at the redness tinting Jim’s cheeks in response.

“You could say that,” he admitted gruffly. Something changed

in his expression and a sly smile crossed his face. “By the way, I
brought you something. Housewarming gift,” he clarified.

Tommy’s eyes coasted down Jim’s form and back up. Not too

many hiding places. “Must be pretty small.”

That brought a huge grin to Jim’s face, and he winked. “Nope.

Not small at all. C’mon,” he beckoned, heading toward the French
doors to the back deck.

Bemused, Tommy followed willingly along, then stopped dead

in his tracks and gasped.

“What did you do?”
His back deck had been transformed. A surprisingly recent

addition to the house, it was in solid shape, and therefore
something that was way down on Tommy’s to-do list. But as he
stepped out the back door, he found himself in a welcoming oasis.

A suspended glider hung from a free-standing frame near the

doors, finished in a cherry stain. A red and blue striped cushion for
the back complemented the navy blue seat cushion. These, in turn,
matched the cushions on the four chairs around a round wooden
table, similar to a wire spool. An umbrella which matched the
striped cushion was extended above a hole in the middle of the
table. The table was set with two place settings at the moment, and

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a seat-sized box with a hinged top that stood open, showed that at
least a few more place settings were possible.

The pink climbing roses, which had been sprawled over the

ground, now trailed up a brand new trellis, providing a beautiful
living wall along one side of the deck. Several planters, which
matched the stain and style of the furniture, had seasonal flowers
and some tomato plants started inside.

Tommy completed his spin in a daze and saw what he’d missed

before—a brand-new gas grill with a refrigerated compartment
beneath, wrapped up in a big red bow.

“Oh, no way,” he blurted out without thinking. “That is way too

expensive of a gift when you’re not working.”

Jim’s expression of enjoyment changed subtly, and he met

Tommy head on. “First off, the grill is from Keith and Sandy.”

Tommy felt a little sick at the thought that he’d hurt Jim’s pride

and started to apologize, but Jim cut him off.

“The rest is from me, and it wasn’t as expensive as you might

think. More to the point, you have no right to tell me I can’t spend
my money however I want, employed or not. In fact, I don’t want
to hear another word about it except for thank you.” Jim walked
slowly away toward the grill and began to mechanically remove
the bow.

Tommy walked right up behind Jim, taking him without

hesitation into his arms and resting his cheek against the broad
back, currently stiffened with indignation. “Thank you. And I’m
sorry. And it’s beautiful. Can I keep going?”

Jim’s tall frame relaxed a little bit, and, heartened by the

response, Tommy continued, arms still wrapped around Jim’s
waist from behind. “I love the furniture. You must’ve made it,
right? And the colors are great. The plants are beautiful, and thank

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you so much for rescuing those poor roses. Is that where you got
those cuts on your forearms? I can see where you must’ve worn
gloves and a rolled up shirt—about four inches of scratches.”

The back moved under his cheek and a chuckle reverberated

through him. Jim turned and took Tommy in his arms.

“That’s one thing I love about you. When you get going, you

either verbally paint yourself into a corner, or cover all the bases.
But you’re never boring.” With one last squeeze, Jim shrugged. “I
just wanted you to be able to enjoy your summer a little bit, and
have somewhere to escape the remodeling mess that was being
done.”

“You know me so well. Definitely the best area of the house to

do that with, and not one I would have chosen to do anytime
soon,” Tommy praised.

“Exactly. Well, that,” Jim added with a lopsided grin and a

wink, “and it was the only part I could get to without a key.”

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CHAPTER 7

Now that Tommy had taken possession, the remodel could

begin in earnest, but first he had to vacate his apartment and get
moved into the house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me until we get

some of the major things done over there?” It wasn’t the first time
Jim had asked, and he was starting to feel a little desperate. He
wanted Tommy sharing his space, and this was the perfect
excuse—one that would hold water with their more conservative
friends.

See, I’m just helping him out. That’s why he’s living with me.

Completely innocent and understandable—one buddy helping out
another.

Tommy looked up from the bed frame he’d just finished taking

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apart, looking exasperated. “We’ve already been over this. I don’t
need to stay with you. The house is big enough to keep out of the
way of the work. The two west bedrooms upstairs aren’t in bad
shape, and it’ll be easy to whip through those once I get the rest of
the house done. In the meantime, I can live in one and store
furniture in the other. It’ll be fine. Why do you keep bringing it
up?” A frown creased his brow as he stared Jim down, until he was
forced to look away.

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to put to voice the

real reason he kept pushing. I don’t want to lose this opportunity to
have you with me ’round the clock, to have you in my bed, away
from prying eyes.

In lieu of an answer, he wordlessly picked up an end table and

carried it out to the pickups. Tommy had little enough big furniture
that they’d decided to just make multiple trips in their trucks, even
though Keith had offered the use of one of the company trucks as a
moving van.

Tommy was right behind him with the bed frame. “So what do

you think? How about we put everything that’s going into storage
in your truck and what I’ll want in the room I’m living out of in
mine? That way we know ahead of time which room to carry it to.”

Trying to get back some enthusiasm, even though he’d rather it

all went into storage and Tommy just walk his clothes over to
Jim’s apartment—he’d even already cleared out space in his closet
and dresser, although he’d rather die than admit that—he
summoned a smile. “Great idea. That way I can just keep
unloading without bugging you constantly. So, this stay with your
bed?” he asked, indicating the bedside table with a tilt of his head.

With an odd look, Tommy nodded, then laid the pieces of bed

frame into his truck. He seemed about to say something, but

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apparently decided against it and instead turned and strode back
toward the stairs.

As he left, Jim couldn’t help but think he’d missed a golden

opportunity to come clean with Tommy about why he was resistant
to his moving to the house right now. But all the layers of subtext
between them were already so tangled, between the layoff, their
friendship, their burgeoning sexual affair, and his job working for
Tommy. Did he really want to add yet another complication—a
huge one like living together—even if it would be beyond amazing
to be able to hold Tommy every night, away from the outside
world?

Part of him insisted he go for it, take a chance and tell Tommy

what he wanted and why. But the conservative side of him,
coupled with his pride—after all, he’d already been shot down
more than once—won out, and he poured forth full effort into
getting Tommy moved like he wanted, without another word of
protest.

* * *

It was like a film of this morning running in reverse as Tommy

worked to put the bed frame back together in the small room he’d
be occupying until they finished the master suite remodel. Jim set
down the end table, adjusting its placement until he got a nod from
Tommy.

“Ready for the box springs?”
“Will be in about a minute.”
Jim grabbed the second of the two twin box springs that made

up the support for the king-sized bed and slowly maneuvered it up
the stairs, trying not to cause any more damage to the drywall. He

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set it next to the first one, leaning against the wall in the hall, just
as Tommy walked out.

“Oh great. Here, slide me that one.”
They carried the box springs in, settling them into place before

walking back down to the truck.

“Ready for this?”
“Do you think it’ll go around the bend in the stairs okay?”

Tommy worried.

Jim watched as he chewed on his lower lip and had to smile.

“It’ll have to. Best get it up there now before we do any finish
work.”

“True. Okay. Let’s do it.”
They shoved and maneuvered the unwieldy mattress halfway

up the stairs. “Shit, stuck. Okay. I think we’re going to have to lift
it over the railing and tip it back that way.”

Tommy’s voice was muffled coming from the other side of the

mattress. “Which way?”

“That way, like a teeter-totter. Over the top and just let it flop.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Jesus, Tommy. You’d think you’d have a better spatial sense

with what you do for a living.”

“It’s best for me when I can see it and hold it in my hands.”
His innocent remark lit a fire in Jim as he immediately

visualized his cock in Tommy’s warm grip. “Let’s fucking do
this.” His words were frustrated, but his tone was husky and low
and had to give away his growing need. “Follow my lead.”

They finally coordinated their efforts enough to get the

mattress past the obstacle and quickly had it centered on the
awaiting frame and box springs. Tommy pulled some linens from a
plastic trash bag serving as a suitcase and took the far side as they

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made the bed in tandem. The proximity of Tommy and a mattress
had Jim barely keeping a rein on his lust, especially when Tommy
leaned over to tuck and smooth the bottom sheet, his own bottom
elevated on display.

When Tommy flipped the top sheet into the air to settle in

place, Jim gave a yank from his side, pulling it askew and almost
pulling Tommy onto the bed. His full lips were parted in surprise
when he looked up. The annoyed, questioning look smoothed
quickly into a knowing expression as he tugged back. The
interplay quickly escalated into an all-out war, which Jim finally
cut short by pulling Tommy in using the sheet, hand over hand,
until Tommy was knee-walking across the bed to meet Jim.

The slight strut on the way across the bed was a sight to see,

and the heavy-lidded azure gaze locked on his. Sexy fucker.

“Welcome home,” Jim murmured against Tommy’s lips as they

met in the middle of the bed.

“Mmm hmm.”
It hadn’t escaped Jim’s notice this was the first time they’d

been on a bed together, and he turned thought into action as he
sank sideways, pulling Tommy down with him onto the partially-
made bed without separating from their kiss. The scent of clean
linen made him remember their shoes, and he toed his trainers off
the edge of the bed without breaking the leisurely kiss, feeling
movement that told him Tommy had noticed and was doing the
same thing.

Niceties take care of, he deepened the kiss, cupping the back of

Tommy’s head with one hand, while running his free hand down
his side and grabbing a handful of his jeans-clad ass. Tommy met
his kiss eagerly, sharing his approval through little hums in the
back of his throat as he lightly circled his hips against Jim.

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This sense that they were the only two people on earth was

exactly what Jim had envisioned when he imagined Tommy
moving in with him. The privacy to lavish his attention on Tommy
and have it returned—without any prying eyes or disapproving
stares. Or worse.

Jim restrained a shudder at the thought of his family’s reaction

if they were to see him like this. The vitriolic hatred for anyone
different than himself had passed undiluted from his bigoted
grandfather down to Jim’s dad and brothers, somehow bypassing
Jim. Or rather, Jim had known from early on he needed to play the
game of going along to get along—or fall victim himself.

“Hey. Where’d you go?”
A callused thumb stroked roughly against his temple, bringing

his full attention back to the man lying beside him. Jim wasn’t
about to admit his less-than-sexy thoughts to his waiting partner,
instead choosing to go on the offensive. He rolled Tommy’s
quiescent body beneath his, loving the way Tommy willingly gave
it all over to him.

The muscular body beneath his was at once accommodating

and demanding, and suddenly Jim couldn’t stand to have anything
between them. He had to feel Tommy’s skin against his own, learn
the temperature and texture.

“Up,” he coached, pulling Tommy to a sitting position before

whipping his shirt over his head and casting it to the floor.
Tommy’s followed, and Jim tugged the button-fly of Tommy’s
jeans open before easing him back down to the bed.

He’d seen Tommy without a shirt before, but never when he

could look his fill. Nicely developed shoulders and smooth pecs
narrowed to a trim abdomen with just the lightest line of hair
trailing down to the silky, dark nest now peeking out of his open

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fly.

Enough visual. Jim leaned forward almost reverently and eased

down over Tommy, who raised his powerful arms to take him into
an embrace that just felt right. He couldn’t stifle a groan as he
made blessed skin contact.

Expectant eyes met his, and Jim swallowed against sudden

nerves. He knew that everything they were doing was new to
Tommy, and he felt the awesome responsibility of making it good
for him, but wasn’t sure he had the self-control to pull it off. He’d
been wanting him for so fucking long…

Bypassing the waiting lips, he instead ran his lips along the

stubble tracing Tommy’s jaw line, tongue sneaking out to pick up a
taste of salt and enough of Tommy’s own taste that it made his
mouth water in anticipation of tasting him elsewhere. Giving a
literal lick and a promise to his small, responsive nipples—making
Tommy squirm promisingly beneath him—he nipped and laved his
way down to the open jeans and paused for a moment to inhale.
Working hard moving all day had waves of warm, musky scent
rising from Tommy’s skin—pure, undiluted man.

Slowly working Tommy’s jeans and briefs down his legs, Jim

followed in their wake with kisses and nudges until a dampening
thought occurred to him. He’d be surprised if Tommy had any of
necessary supplies period, much less handy. So making the
decision of whether to let Tommy penetrate him—an exclusive top
for at least a decade—would have to be put on the back burner for
now, as would any overture to taking Tommy’s cherry. A quick
glance up at those expressive eyes, now showing a combination of
lust and apprehension, decided matters for Jim, and he shucked his
own jeans in a flurry of quick movements.

Jim spat in his hand, deliberately holding Tommy’s gaze as he

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knelt over his and stroked their erections in turn. One more spit,
and he brought their cocks together in both of his hands. Tommy’s
low moan coupled with the feel of Tommy’s dick jumping between
his hand and his own straining length nearly finished him right
there. Gritting his teeth for strength, he gave a few hard,
breathtaking strokes, hands gliding easily in the mixture of spit and
sweat and pre-cum.

Needing more, he dropped onto Tommy’s strong chest,

bringing their naked bodies together in full alignment. It took only
a few deliriously fantastic minutes of rubbing together before
Tommy stiffened under him.

“Ah! Fuck!” Tommy’s cry was followed by a pooling warmth

between their abdomens, and Jim could feel the erection pressed
against his flexing as Tommy poured forth. The last of Jim’s
control vanished, and he pumped against the newly slick skin,
vision blurring as he tipped over the edge and shot repeatedly,
helpless to stop the jerking of his hips.

Jim braced himself over Tommy, panting, unable to move. In a

move Jim knew he’d be recalling in his solitary time, a move that
made his chest ache with emotion, Tommy wrapped his arms
around Jim, heedless of the sweat and mess, and held him as if
he’d never let go.

“Jim.”
The barely audible whisper stirred up an unfamiliar and

uncomfortable churning in Jim’s gut, making him want to jump
and run. But he didn’t pull away…not for a long time.

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CHAPTER 8

“What the fuck is this?”
The enjoyment of working side-by-side with Tommy—when

he was off his day job, that was—over the past couple weeks had
taken a bitter turn this morning when Tommy’d handed him an
envelope with “Jim—GC paycheck” written across the front. The
hit to his pride was like a fist to the solar plexus, but Jim had
mentally toughened his way through the indignity by at least
consoling himself that he didn’t have to haunt the unemployment
office. And it was rewarding working on Tommy’s house, putting
his effort into perfecting his friend’s home.

But the bitter had turned to bile when he’d finally gotten the

nerve to open it.

With a surprised look at him, Tommy squinted at the paper Jim

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was brandishing in front of him. “I can’t tell you if I can’t see it.
Stop waving it around.”

“Fine.” Jim held it completely still between his two hands,

seething. “Here you go. Now. What is this?”

Tommy met his gaze calmly. “It’s your pay summary.”
“Pay summary,” Jim repeated flatly. The sting of accepting the

envelope from his almost-lover and friend had been bad enough,
but then, when he’d opened it…

“You mind explaining to me why I’m getting paid to have sex

with you? Because according to this you’re paying me for a stretch
of time where the only work I remember doing was on your cock.”

Jim knew he was being crude, but he didn’t care. He was a

fucking man, damn it; not a whore, not a mistress, not a fucking
charity case. A man.

“That’s a time frame that we agreed you’d be working for me.

So I paid you for it. It’s like at work. Sometimes we goof around
and get to talking, but we’re still on the clock, and still get paid by
the company.” Tommy made it sound so cut and dried.

“Do not bring up the fucking company to me. I no longer work

there, remember? Don’t you dare throw it in my face.”
Unreasonable? Yes. But Jim was beyond reason at this point.

Tommy frowned, looking uncertain and angry all at once. “I’m

not throwing it in your face, I’m just trying to explain…”

“Don’t bother. I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s

bullshit. I don’t need this from you. I don’t need this from
anybody,” Jim ranted, all his frustration and pride surging to a
head. “I knew this was a bad idea from the start.”

“Jesus, Jim. Will you listen to yourself? I don’t know what

you’ve gotten up your ass, but you need to chill out.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my boss. Got that?”

THE SWAP

Tommy was glaring back at him, his back finally up as he cut

loose. “Oh, I’ve got it. It’s getting clearer by the second. So
what’re you gonna do? Quit? Fine by me. I don’t need you. You’re
not doing anything I couldn’t do myself.”

* * *

Even as the words came out of his mouth, his brain began to

panic.

Shut up! What are you doing? You don’t want Jim to quit.
But it was too late, as the stiff, prideful expression on Jim’s

stony face made clear. The damage had been done. Jim spun
without a word and walked away, letting the paper drift to the floor
in his wake as he headed to the door.

“Jim…”
He didn’t bother to stop or look back as he cut him off. “Don’t

say a word. You’ve already said enough. I’m done here.”

For a sickening moment, Tommy thought he might throw up.

Childishly wishing for a do-over, he almost ran after Jim and
grabbed his arm by the elbow just as he reached the door.

Jim whirled around, and Tommy braced himself but didn’t

retreat. I’d deserve it if he did punch me. That was a low blow.

Lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying any

more, Jim looked away from what he saw in Tommy’s eyes and
shook his head, rejecting him—rejecting the whole situation as he
walked out without another word.

Tommy’s breath left him in a whoosh, and the back of his

throat tightened when he heard the slam of Jim’s pickup door
followed by the engine firing. He couldn’t look at Jim pulling
away, just listening until the sounds of his truck heading down the

THE SWAP

street faded into the ambient noise. Once it was obvious he was
completely gone, Tommy looked outside at his lone truck, looking
deserted and symbolic of the way he felt just then.

All the strength left his legs and he slid down the wall to the

floor.

I fucked up.
He knew, knew that Jim had been very uncomfortable about

taking the job in the first place, and had to wrestle with his pride to
take what he saw as a handout. That was one reason Tommy’d had
the idea to meticulously document Jim’s hours worked, to show
him that he wasn’t overpaying him, or paying him for nothing, but
that Jim was earning every bit of what he got.

Guess I should’ve just cut a check and kept it simple. Me and

my bright ideas.

It wasn’t Jim’s fault that Tommy couldn’t resist blending work

and pleasure when they were alone working in the house. It was
the only time, really, that Jim unwound enough to let his sexy side
come out to play, and they’d made full use of the privacy on
multiple occasions.

Never would he have dreamed that Jim would misconstrue in

such a horrible fashion Tommy paying him straight through his
time here, rather than taking out…fucking around time?

I wonder if the Wage and Labor people would consider that a

break?

He gave a mirthless laugh that sounded strange to his ears in

the echo of the empty house. Jim hadn’t yet spent the night, but
they worked hard together well into the evening on weeknights,
sharing dinners on the fly, only parting company to shower at their
respective homes and fall into bed. The weekends had been spent
together from mid-morning to well after dark.

THE SWAP

Now, as Tommy drove his fist into the doorjamb—once,

twice—he miserably wondered if he could ever punish himself
enough to make up for the pain he’d thoughtlessly inflicted—and
whether Jim would ever be back.

He took a third shot.

* * *

“Jesus. What does the other guy look like?”
“Huh?” Tommy looked over blearily at Keith as he stirred

creamer into his morning coffee. He’d tossed and turned all night,
his mind torturing him by replaying the terrible scene with Jim
over and over. He’d had plenty of time to think of all the things he
should have said, and must’ve picked up the phone a dozen
times—but chickened out each time, not wanting to hear Jim tell
him to fuck off again. Or worse, not even answer.

“Tommy. What’s wrong? Your knuckles are hamburger and

you look half dead. Did you get in a fight last night?”

He shrugged and turned back to his coffee. “Jim and I got into

it last night, but…”

Tommy yelped as he was suddenly yanked backward and

pushed up against the counter, his coffee spilling everywhere and
the mug landing with a thunk in the sink.

“What the…”
“You got into a fight with Jim? You punched him? After all

he’s done for you—saving your job, working on your house? What
the fuck?” Keith gave him a disgusted look as he backed off. “I
thought you guys were friends.”

Trying hard to mentally catch up, Tommy finally processed all

Keith had said.

THE SWAP

“What do you mean, saving my job? What did Jim have to do

with it?”

Keith froze, then cringed. “Shit.”
Tommy stepped up to his boss and fixed him with what he

hoped was a spill-everything stare and used super-human effort to
keep his mouth shut and tempt the man into confessing to fill the
silence. Like Tommy usually did.

Keith looked extremely uncomfortable as he cleared his throat

repeatedly.

Wow. Looks like it’s actually working.
“Fuck,” Keith mumbled under his breath, then rocked

Tommy’s world by confessing. “Jim wasn’t on the original list of
layoffs. You were.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. Tommy was

stunned. “I was supposed to get laid off? What happened? I
mean”—he gestured around the break room—“how am I still here
then? What did Jim do?” He was beginning to get some idea.

Keith flushed. “He’s my best friend. Ya know? So when they

said I could only keep two machinists, I just couldn’t put his name
down.” Keith’s eyes begged for understanding, and Tommy had to
empathize with the guy, having to tell someone to their face they’d
tried to get rid of them.

He rushed to continue. “But when I told Jim that day, he

flipped out. Said I had to keep you—that you’d been here longer
and it wasn’t fair. ‘Last in, first out,’ he kept saying. He was really
adamant about it.” Keith looked dejected. “He told me later that
with you right in the middle of closing on your house, it would’ve
been a million times harder for you than for him to be out of work.

“I was really glad when I heard you had given him a job, kind

of a fair swap, I thought. With all the money he feeds to his mom,

THE SWAP

he’s not exactly rolling in it right now.”

That was news to Tommy. It all was. A slow simmer started in

his brain. Even after how clear he’d tried to make to Jim right off
the bat the importance of being open and honest with him, Jim had
apparently thought nothing of keeping some pretty major secrets
from him.

Keith’s eyes narrowed as he focused back in on Tommy. “So

you obviously didn’t know about the swap and all he did for you.
Now, does that change how you think about whatever you guys got
into a fight about last night?”

“Oh, yes. It changes everything.” Tommy would be damned if

he would continue to feel crappy and guilty about what he’d said to
Jim. Jim didn’t even have enough respect for their relationship—or
even friendship—to share some monumental stuff.

He was evidently just a fuck and a paycheck.
So be it.

* * *

He held onto that lofty ideal all the way until his lunch break.
Actions speak louder than words.
The axiom he’d trotted out to Jim the first time they’d fought

came boomeranging back with bull’s-eye accuracy, and smacked
him right off his pedestal. Who was he to be high and mighty?
Instead of showing some empathy for how humbling it must’ve
been for a man like Jim to take that paycheck and feel as though
Tommy was subsidizing their budding relationship, he’d gotten
stubborn and defensive and lashed out in return. And he’d piled on
Jim with just the worst possible things to say to make him feel
useless and less of a man.

THE SWAP

Why didn’t you just cut his balls off while you were at it,

asshole?

The nausea he’d had since the fight was back with a vengeance,

so he tossed his uneaten sandwich into the trash and got a spare
mug out of the cupboard. The coffee in the pot was cold sludge.
No creamer left either.

Crap.
He really needed a pick-me-up or he’d never get through the

rest of his shift. Looking at the clock on the wall, Tommy figured
he had just enough time to get the two blocks to the coffee shop
and back before it was time to clock back in.

Throwing his gloves and eye protection into his locker, he

grabbed his keys and headed out the break room door.

And almost ran right into Jim.

THE SWAP

CHAPTER 9

Tommy’s hands had come up reflexively to stop the collision

that never happened. Feeling foolish, he tried to inconspicuously
drop them to his sides, but ended up with arms crossed. Which felt
defensive, so then he did drop them. Which felt dumb, just letting
them hang there.

He chanced a look at Jim and was equally relieved and

indignant to see the familiar expression of amusement on Jim’s
face.

“Take it easy there, buddy. You about ran me over.”
Buddy?
The secret joy Tommy felt at seeing Jim at his smiling self took

an abrupt nosedive. He realized with a sinking feeling Jim was
playing a part for the benefit of his ex-coworkers. Tommy’s earlier

THE SWAP

resentment at Jim’s lack of communication came flaring back to
life, and he gave a startled Jim a shove.

“Hey!” he protested, looking around. For witnesses, Tommy

surmised. He gave another angry push, and in trying to stop him,
Jim grabbed his hand—the injured one.

Pain shot through him. Coupled with his exhaustion and stress,

it almost buckled his knees.

“Oh, shit. Tommy, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt—” Jim

trailed off as he looked at Tommy’s knuckles. His eyes shot up to
Tommy’s guilty ones, and then his gaze and hands seemed to be
everywhere at once as Jim patted him down, concern and fury
warring on his face.

“Who did this? Who did you have to hit? What did they do to

you?”

Embarrassed at having to confess his melodramatic meltdown

of the night before, Tommy knew they had a lot more talking to do
than could be done in the hallway at work.

And of course, right then Keith joined them.
“You two lovebirds making up?”
Both Tommy and Jim turned to Keith in shock. Tommy felt his

face go bright red, pulse throbbing in his head. Beside him, Jim
was flushed as well, and Tommy watched Keith slowly lose his
smirk. He looked slack-jawed back and forth between the two with
growing comprehension.

“Holy shit. You two are together?”
“Keep it down, asshole,” Jim warned, too late.
Piero stopped short, eyes wide. “You two are together?

Like”—he made a vulgar gesture—“together?”

Keith groaned, “C’mon man, quit with the visuals!” and

Tommy wished the floor would just open up and swallow him

THE SWAP

whole.

“Jesus fuck, would everyone just shut up?” Jim gestured at

another employee visible in the distance. “Get in the break room.
No, wait. Keith’s office.” Jim took charge and herded them all
down the hall, his hand lingering for just a moment on the small of
Tommy’s back.

When the door shut behind them, Piero asked, “Do I really

have to be here for this?”

“You butted in, in the hallway, so you’re in for the duration,”

Keith retorted.

Jim gave a derisive snort. “Oh, nice. Pot meet kettle. Who

asked you to join the conversation out there?”

Keith pointed at Jim. “Hey. The only reason you’re even here

is to have lunch with me, so excuse me for actually coming over
when I saw you were here.”

Trying to remain inconspicuous, Tommy was depressed to hear

his private, hopeful theory that Jim had come to see him shot down
in a cloud of smoke. After all, why would he after the things he’d
said?

Jim’s voice broke into his self-flagellation. “For your

information, Mr. It’s All About Me, I was coming to see Tommy
on his lunch break, not you.” He continued in a softer tone. “We
have a lot to talk about.”

Tommy looked up as his breath caught in his throat.
“Oh, for Christ sakes. I seriously have to be a part of this?”

Piero interjected disgustedly.

Keith bristled. “You have a problem with these two?”
Jim stepped half in front of Tommy. His heart jumped at the

protective gesture.

“Yeah,” Piero shot back. “I get enough of this relationship

THE SWAP

sharing shit at home with my wife. I don’t need it on my lunch
break, too.”

Jim leaned in toward Piero, making some kind of motion with

his hands. “So if Tommy and I are together, you don’t have a
problem with that?”

Tommy couldn’t see what he did with Jim’s back in the way,

but from Keith’s exclamation, “God, I thought I said enough with
the visuals!” he guessed that Jim had given back Piero’s gesture.
He fought to keep an inappropriate laugh down. The whole surreal
scene was getting more bizarre by the moment.

“No, not as long as we don’t have to talk about it constantly

like a bunch of women. Jesus. Can you guys go do this at home
and keep work a fucking emotion-free zone?” With that, he
stormed out of the office, muttering to himself.

Relieved and touched by Piero’s gruffly accepting reaction,

Tommy stepped out from behind Jim. “That’s a great idea. Can we
go home?” He kept his gaze on Jim as he asked Keith, “Okay if I
take the rest of the day off, boss?”

A smiled broadened Jim’s face as Keith agreed.
“But only if there’s no more fighting. And get that hand looked

at.” He called back over his shoulder as he left them in his office.

Jim sobered immediately and raised Tommy’s raw knuckles for

a ghost of a kiss, eyes promising more to come.

Tommy smiled. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

They left Tommy’s pickup in the parking lot, and Jim drove to

Tommy’s house as fast as he thought he could get away with,
distracted by Tommy’s hand resting on and occasionally caressing

THE SWAP

his thigh.

Swearing under his breath as he slammed the truck into park,

he reached past Tommy and opened the glove compartment,
pulling out an unopened box of condoms and lube. Down to his
last bit of restraint, Tommy’s flushed and anticipatory look when
he saw the supplies broke his control.

“In the house. Now,” he gritted out, and was somewhat

mollified when Tommy went directly to the door, opening it in
record time and headed straight up the stairs to his room.

When Jim had locked the front door and joined him, Tommy

already had his shoes and socks off and was naked from the waist
up, working his belt buckle. Pushing his hands aside, Jim got it
open and pulled the belt from the loops in a long slide, eyeing it
thoughtfully before dropping it to the floor.

Next time, he thought regretfully. This time was for making up,

not pushing boundaries. Enough boundaries were going to be
pushed, anyway, because Tommy was about to take a step he’d
never forget—and Jim had better get himself under control if he
wanted to make it a good memory.

Looking at the want on Tommy’s face, Jim gave up all pretense

at taking it slow and making it sexy. He stripped efficiently,
without fanfare, and as soon as he was naked, he unfastened and
pushed Tommy’s jeans and briefs to the ground, kneeling to help
him step out. He took in the vision of Tommy’s beautiful erect
cock, bobbing temptingly, and it was like a red cape in front of a
bull. Jim swallowed him whole.

Tommy let out a wordless yell, and his knees buckled. Jim

caught him around the thighs, and drew slowly off, pressing with
his tongue under the cap as he lingered on the tip. He ran his
tongue under the ridge then tasted the slit, greedily extracting the

THE SWAP

mouthwatering bead of essence his ministrations had produced.

Standing quickly, he gave Tommy a half shove, half toss onto

the bed and immediately crawled up over him, making as much
skin contact as he could, rubbing up his body unashamedly. By
now, his erect cock needed counter-pressure, and he thrust up
against Tommy, catching him under the sac, sliding along his balls
and toward his hole.

Jim spread Tommy’s legs, and they willingly opened, exposing

the area he sought. Coaching Tommy without words to hold his
own legs back, Jim grabbed the supplies he’d tossed on the bed,
pissed at himself for not getting everything ready ahead of time.
He finally managed to get the lube open and a condom unwrapped,
and slicked the condom down his impatient shaft before turning to
his partner.

Tommy looked wanton, sprawled open, everything exposed to

Jim’s admiring view. And far from looking embarrassed or
uncertain, as Jim had feared he might, every bit of him showed his
impatience with the pace so far as he snarked, “Do I need to have it
engraved?”

The impatient look vanished into surprise, then lust as Jim

smacked his impertinent ass before loading his fingers with lube.
He took his time smoothing it around and then tucking into
Tommy’s warmth with his finger, working the virgin channel and
coaxing it to relax under the invasion.

Before long, Tommy’s unconscious tension vanished and Jim

was able to start stretching him in earnest. Tommy’s erection
bobbed unabated before Jim’s needful gaze, giving Jim
unmistakable reassurance that he was needing this as much as Jim
was. Finally certain that Tommy was as ready as he could be for
his first time, Jim rested the tip of his penis against his prepared

THE SWAP

opening.

“Ready?”
Tommy confirmed with an open-mouthed nod, already

straining toward Jim.

Jim watched Tommy’s eyes close tightly as Jim passed the

guardian muscle and paused, shaking with the effort it took not to
plunge in all at once. Tommy exhaled heavily and Jim could feel
him relax. He eased farther in, letting Tommy adjust to him, and
finally bottomed out, fully encased in his mind-sapping heat.

Holding himself there took everything he had, but hurting

Tommy was not an option. He set up a gentle glide, slowly
increasing the pace as he followed Tommy’s lead. Soon Tommy
was meeting his thrusts and asking for more. Jim snapped deeply
on the next thrust, and Tommy groaned with pleasure, moaning,
“Yeah,” and “Fuck, so hot.”

Changing his angle, he sought Tommy’s gland, and when his

erection jumped, eyes flying to Jim’s wide with shock, he
chuckled, knowing he’d found his target. From then on, he worked
it, finally taking Tommy’s flushed erection in hand and stroking in
time with his thrusts. Tommy kept up a litany of throaty
encouragement. Never had his babbling sounded better to Jim as
when he became incoherent. It culminated in a wordless exhalation
as he shot milky white ribbons of cum over his abdomen,
clenching around Jim and sending him into a final volley of thrusts
as he saw stars, coming harder than he ever had in his life.

His heart was still beating out of his chest when he slowly

pulled himself from Tommy, to a growl of displeasure. Jim smiled
as he reminded him, “Gotta take care of this. I’ll be back.”

“’Kay,” was the only response.
Apparently Jim had fucked the babble right out of him.

THE SWAP

Good to know.
He came back from the bathroom with a rag to clean up with,

finally having to do the honors himself since Tommy just let it sit
where it landed on his stomach. Tossing it aside, he pulled a sleepy
Tommy into his arms. The way they fit together brought a new
lightness to his heart, especially now, with today’s strange but
positive encounter with their workmates behind them. Sure, there
would be more hurdles to clear, but for the first time, Jim had
every reason in the world to take them on.

“You’re worth everything to me,” he whispered to Tommy,

whose full lips curved in a sated, sleepy smile.

“Guess we should talk.” Tommy had never sounded more

disinclined to talk in all the years Jim had known him, and his
chest expanded with pride at the thought of having such an effect
on his lover.

“Later,” Jim promised. “I’ll swap you some silence now for an

honest, heart-to-heart later.”

“Deal.” A moment later, Tommy was asleep.
“Deal,” Jim whispered back, knowing with this swap, his life

would never be the same. And he couldn’t be happier.

EVON

HODES

Devon started reading and writing at a young age and never looked
back. After a creatively sapping career in the business world, she
gratefully took some time off to be at home.

At 39 and holding, Devon finally figured out the best way to
channel her midlife crisis was to morph from mild-mannered stay-
at-home mom into erotic romance writer.

She lives in Oregon with her husband and two children, who are
(mostly) understanding of all the time she spends on her laptop,
aka the black hole.

For all the latest, visit her blog at www.devonrhodes.blogspot.com.

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