6. Dutton

Dutton

Y eah, I'm full-on giddy as I see the familiar Oakley's Crew truck pull up. I'm about to walk outside with a mug of coffee when I see both doors open and stop. I see Walker, his t-shirt clinging to his defined muscles, but I also see another stupidly handsome man climb out of the passenger side of the truck. He's just as tall and built as Walker is, with a handsome face and dark-red hair trimmed short. They're both laughing and lively as they walk around the back of the truck like a dance they've done many times over.

I place the coffee mug down on the side table by the door and then walk out onto the porch, still watching them like a total creeper, but they don't notice me. They seem so comfortable with each other. Joking and talking away before another truck pulls up with large equipment in the back.

Two other guys hop out of the truck and then finally, Walker is heading up the stairs with that familiar smile on his face. "You ready for this?"

I eye all the equipment and the three men behind him before raising my brow at Walker in question. "What, exactly?"

He looks downright giddy now. "Digging the hot tub! The real fun is about to start."

I can't help smiling at how excited he is to do the grueling work. "Absolutely. I didn't know it was happening this week." And okay, maybe I'm slightly disappointed that he has a whole crew with him today and will likely have them all week. I shouldn't feel that way. That's totally insane. The more people working, the better. It'll be done faster, and I can get on with my life.

Discovering the seasons of Kansas and deciding whether I want to stay here or not. I mean, there's no way I'm going to stay here. But still, I can't stop thinking about Walker. The guy haunts my dreams—in the best ways. Ways that make me wake up hard and aching before wrapping a hand around myself and imagining it's the large, muscular man. That I'm thrusting inside him.

Is he a top? Would he ever bottom? Either way, I'm in. But I shouldn't think that way. I have to stop thinking that way about him. I need to get back to my life. This can't be my life.

Can it?

I try to stop thinking so hard. "Do you need anything from me?" I ask him, and his lips twitch—I swear I see some heat when he looks at me. But I'm probably imagining it. Just because I know he's into men doesn't mean he's into me. Maybe he's just flirty. Or that's just his face.

"Nah, I think we've got it." I'm disappointed by his answer, which makes no sense. I nod, and he heads back down to the redhead. I need to stop glaring at the redhead, but I can't seem to do that.

They get to work, and I force myself to go back inside, but after about two hours, I can't take it anymore. My tongue nearly chokes me when I walk out to the backyard and see Walker is now shirtless. His abs are sweaty and on full display, showing a little bit of dark hair dusted over his hard pecs. A thin happy trail disappearing into his ripped jeans.

Holy. Fuck.

There's some sort of large machine one of the other guys is using to dig into the earth around Walker and the redhead, who's also now shirtless and baking in the hot-as-hell sun, but my eyes are glued to Walker. There's another man with them, his shirt still on but no doubt just as built and sexy as the others.

Seriously, these guys could make a killing with a landscaping calendar. I don't even know if people still buy actual calendars, but with these guys plastered on them, I'd for sure be a customer.

My eyes are glued to Walker, but his attention is on moving the loose dirt out of the way, alongside his redheaded friend. But it's not all hard work because the two are obviously having fun together, pushing and shoving. Joking around. I can't help the jealousy burning deep in my gut.

Are they together?

They seem so in tune with each other. It's clear they know each other well. It's driving me insane, watching them. I have to get a grip, but Walker spots me and walks over to me, shovel in hand. Sadly, he leans it up against the house and pulls his t-shirt out of his back pocket, tugging it on over his head.

"Hey. It's going well."

I look at the progress in my yard before I turn back to Walker. "I can see that. Looks good."

"Wait until you see it finished. It's gonna blow your mind."

And that's what I should be focused on, but for some reason, all I can see is his hands all over the redhead's body. Shit. Shit. Shit. "You and the redhead seem close. Know each other long?" I wince at my totally unsubtle observation, but Walker just nods with a laugh.

"Oh yeah. We've known each other forever."

That's so not what I wanted to hear. Damn it, what is wrong with me? "Oh. How close?"

Nope. Why did you ask that? Jesus, Dutton.

But before I can pull it back, Walker is watching me really closely. His gaze is on me, his eyes lit up, and his mouth drawn into a sexy, smug smile. "He's like a brother to me. That's how close."

Brother?

"Really?" Please stop talking . But I don't. "Yeah. I could sense the closeness with how much you all were touching, but he's probably not even gay, huh?" I wince again and feel a little sick at my blabbering.

There's that smug smile again. At least he's not horrified by my assumption. Or angry. He should be, but he doesn't look like he is. "Actually, he's bisexual. Almost everyone on Oakley's Crew identifies somewhere along the rainbow." I smile at that but can't help but be surprised in a small town like this.

"Really?"

He nods, not looking as smug now, his eyes more kind, like he can understand why that would surprise me. "I don't think Oakley does it on purpose, but I think people are drawn there because they know it'll be a safe space."

My smile is genuine now, a warmth in my chest, thinking about how everyone should feel safe at work. And in the world in general, but so many aren't. I'm glad they have that here. "That's kind of great."

"It is," he says easily. But then he totally shocks me. "What are you doing tonight?"

My eyebrows are in my hairline, I'm pretty sure. Is he asking me out on a date? No. That can't be. "Uhhh..." Wow, way to keep my cool, huh?

Before I can embarrass myself further, he thankfully continues, "You should come into town. It's the end of summer festival."

Okay. Not a date. And what? "It's barely September. It's still summer."

He just laughs, and what is it like to just laugh like that? For everything to seem so light and carefree. "Well technically it's called Hayes Days, but it's the end of summer for us. We're ready for fall."

"No. It's not called that."

He chuckles. "Totally is. You should come." He sounds adamant. "It's fun. There's a carnival and lots of good food. Ends in a street dance."

"Street dance?" I ask, crinkling my nose. "You dance in the street."

"Hell yeah, we dance in the street. And it's fucking fun."

I can't imagine how that could be any fun, honestly. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Nah. They close down the main road. It's fun. The whole town will be there. I promise it's a good time."

I can't help but reading a little more into the words good time than he probably means. My mind flashing to his naked, dirty, sweaty torso and phew ... it's even hotter out here now.

"I'll think about it."

"Good," he says, and he looks pleased as he goes back to the crew and to work.

Do I really want to go to a street dance in a tiny little town? I don't know.

But it may help me find the fun he claims this town has in it.

Maybe it won't be too bad.