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  “Hell, no.” Rory smiled easily, but moved out from under the grasping hand. Only one person had those rights now. “Been busy.”

  “Good for you. Lots of remodeling work, huh?” He got a lecherous, slimy smile. “You available to bid a job tonight?”

  “I’m off the clock.” Not likely. “How’s your wife?”

  That was the excuse Keller’d used last, when the time for a quick leaving had come.

  “She’s fine. Fine.” The guy’s face fell, but he didn’t quite back off. “I just want to spend some time looking at figures.”

  “He’s not working tonight.” JW came up next to them, looking fine as anything in Wranglers and a pressed shirt.

  “JW.” He handed over his lover’s beer, offered Dub his grin, back turning on Keller. “How’s it going?”

  “Better, now. That last twenty miles seemed like they was never gonna end.” He got the smile that JW reserved for him alone, slow and hot and perfect.

  That made him shivery, made him half-hard, and he had forgotten all about Keller when a hand landed on his shoulder again, shaking him.

  “I’m serious, Rory. If not tonight, then tomorrow. My wife’s at her sister’s for the weekend.”

  JW turned on Keller, their chests bumping. “You still here? I told you, man, he ain’t working tonight, and he don’t want nothin’ else you got.”

  Look at that puffy redneck. Made Rory’s mouth a little dry, really. Made him want to make offers that were absolutely, one hundred percent not appropriate in the club.

  Keller’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, and Rory chuckled softly. “We got to get home, man. Call David Baker; he needs work.”

  Then he bumped shoulders with JW. “Finish your damn beer.”

  “Shit, baby. I just got here.” JW popped his butt, just one good swat that had him going up on tiptoes.

  “You want to hang out?” Instead of taking him somewhere and making him scream? That didn’t seem like JW at all.

  “No.” JW drank the beer down in a few swallows, that tanned throat working. “No, I want to tear your ass up.”

  He tossed the keys over. “Maybe it’s my turn to have at yours.” Poking JW was one of his favorite fucking pastimes.

  Fucking pastimes. He made himself chuckle.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Your ass, My hand. It’s heaven.” JW stopped, cheeks going dark-dark. “Oh. man.”

  “What? What’s up?” JW looked like he’d swallowed a damn frog.

  “I-- My hand. In you.” JW looked around, cheeks going even darker. “Not here.”

  “No. No. Not here.” He put his bottle down, maybe a little too hard, the heavy glass cracking. “You ready?”

  He.

  That.

  Damn.

  “I am.” JW put the other bottle down with a thump and grabbed his arm, steering him right past a couple of gawking buddies of his.

  They headed right out the door and he knew the rumors would be flying before they left the parking lot -- how him and Dub had a fight. That worked for him, well enough. He knew better. There wasn’t gonna be no fighting, at least on his part.

  He climbed up into the passenger’s seat, neither one of them saying a word for a few minutes, the tension in the air thick as October fog.

  JW glanced over. “We don’t have to. I got my thing from the doc. I’m clean. We can just fuck.”

  “Ain’t nothing saying we got to choose, is there?” Hell, they had a couple three days in a row.

  “No.” He got that smile again, sideways this time, JW starting to settle a little. “No, we can do anything.”

  He reached out, touched JW’s wrist, his cock so hard it ached. “Yep. Anything.”

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Hey, Jealousy

  BIRTHSTONES

  An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

  PO Box 2545

  Round Rock, TX 78680

  Copyright 2011 by BA Tortuga

  Cover illustration by Alessia Brio

  Published with permission

  ISBN: 978-1-61040-215-6

  www.torquerepress.com

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.

  First Torquere Press Printing: May 2011

  Printed in the USA