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    Men at Work: Gay Romance
    Men at Work: Gay Romance
    Men at Work: Gay Romance
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    Men at Work: Gay Romance

    By G.R. Richards

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    About this ebook

    To Fernando, family means everything. He’s the brawn of his brother’s decking business. Their client Malcolm is a posh professor who knows his way around power tools. When Fernando falls for Professor Hottie, will he finally get to play happy families... or will his world come crashing down at his feet? Find out in MEN AT WORK.
    This book appears in the MANLOVE bundle. Previously published as The Brothers of Hogg’s Hollow.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBetweenTwo
    Release dateAug 11, 2016
    ISBN9781370244669
    Men at Work: Gay Romance

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      Book preview

      Men at Work - G.R. Richards

      Men at Work: Gay Romance © 2016 by G.R. Richards

      All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

      This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

      Cover design © 2016 G.R. Richards

      Originally published by Amber Quill Press.

      Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

      Men at Work

      Gay Romance

      By G.R. Richards

      Chapter One

      "This one has what he calls exacting tastes," Gerry warned as they pulled into the driveway.

      Fernando flipped up the passenger seat visor to get a better view. His stomach plunged into his pants when he got a look at the place. In all the years he and Gerry had been in business together, he’d never felt nervous walking onto a jobsite. Now there were some mean butterflies groovin’ in his gut.

      His stomach rumbled, and he pressed his hand to his side until the growl subsided.

      With a furrowed brow and a cheap smirk, Gerry asked, You okay, man?

      Yeah, he said, breathing past the anxiety. "Exacting tastes—what’s that supposed to mean?"

      Means he wants the job done right the first time. Gerry opened the driver’s side door, but the large double-double in the cup holder seemed to capture his attention and hold him transfixed. Instead of getting out of the pick-up, he reached for his coffee and took another sip. This guy wants it done to his specifications, on time and on budget.

      Fernando laughed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

      Shooting him a death-glare, Gerry said, It’s gonna happen. He downed his coffee before quieting his voice. When the client’s within earshot, it’s gonna happen.

      Fernando hopped out of the truck and wandered to the border of the pitch-black driveway. The lawn was perfectly edged. This guy’s gardener must go at it with a level and a pair of manicure scissors.

      Shading his eyes from the early May sun, Fernando looked up at the house. Barn doors on the garage—those were pricey, especially when they were paired with leaded-style glass windows. The musket brown casements coordinated so perfectly with the front door that he was willing to bet they’d all been replaced when the doors were installed. The southern portion of the two-storey house was stone. The northern half, which housed the garage, must have been a later addition, because it was all brick.

      Would this place would be called Victorian or Edwardian or pre-war, or something else altogether? He couldn’t remember. That was Gerry’s area of expertise, anyway.

      Gerry was the brains of the operation. He took care of everything on the business end. No way would Fernando be filing zoning ordinances or building permits or whatever bullshit paperwork Gerry handled. Red tape drove him nuts. He’d rather run than stand still. He’d rather be hauling the shit than shooting it.

      Someone he was trying to forget used to tell him he had a go-go-go personality. Fernando blamed his elementary school classmates for that character flaw: seven years straight they’d called him Speedy Gonzalez. Andale, Andale! In eighth grade he grew some balls and took on any punk-ass kid who called him names. That was the end of Speedy Gonzalez.

      Fernando’s stomach quaked. What the hell had he eaten? A bear claw and a coffee, just like every other day. He couldn’t figure a reason for the rumbling. It had to be nerves. He’d worked in and around houses this big and bigger all over Hogg’s Hollow. But his apprehension wasn’t about the size of the place, though it was a behemoth, or even about the area in the north end of the city, though it was certainly and affluent location. No, the house had an intangible quality that made him inexplicably anxious.

      On the other side of the truck, Gerry had his case up on the hood and he searched through it for God-knows-what. Fernando pressed a hand to his gut. All this waiting around bumped his tension to a fever pitch.

      What’re you looking for, bro?

      Gerry held a pencil between his teeth. I just gotta find those contract amendments.

      When the front door of the monster home opened up, Fernando nearly jumped out of his shorts.

      Geraldo! the homeowner called. Good morning!

      Squinting against the sun, Fernando tried to make out the shape in the doorway. All he could see was a dark figure waving a hand in the air. Fernando took a few steps forward, until he was inside the morning shadow cast by the house. By the voice alone, he could tell it was a man, but the voice didn’t tell him it was a black man. The guy talked the same way Gerry did—in a tone Fernando found purposefully condescending.

      Still, Fernando smiled to see a black guy living in Hogg’s Hollow. From what he’d seen over the years, Hogg’s Hollow had remained a totally white bread community even as the rest of the city diversified. Walking down the streets here, he always felt like every granny peeking out from behind lace curtains, looking at him and thinking Trades. He obviously didn’t belong in this neighbourhood. A fit, youngish, good-looking black man living in this community gave Fernando a small sense of redemption.

      Just as Fernando reflected on how glad he felt to be working for this guy, he realized the man in the grey pinstriped pants and light blue shirt wasn’t waving hello. He was motioning his hand, all right, but in a back and forth motion. Would you mind terribly parking on the road?

      Fernando whipped his head right to left like he was following a shot on goal. For a split second, Gerry blinked incredulously. Then he self-corrected and offered the homeowner a sycophantic smile.

      Of course. Gerry nodded like a dashboard bobble-head. Yes, of course.

      Hopping into the truck, he started ‘er up. Before he’d even closed the driver’s side door, it must have clicked that he’d left his bag sitting on the hood, because Gerry got back out, picked up his shit, and tossed it on the passenger seat.

      Fernando stepped to the edge of the drive as Gerry pulled out to park in front of the house.

      Although he could feel their new client’s eyes burning the back of his head, Fernando felt oddly disinclined to turn around without Gerry at his side. He stood in the shade of the Hogg’s Hollow home and waited for his brother.

      It’s no trouble, I trust. The prim and proper tone of

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