Half-Baked Promises (Castor Springs #1)
One more day, that's all Kevin needed. One more day to finish this tax audit and get the hell out of town and back to his normal, everyday life. So it absolutely figured that some over-muscled moron with a pneumatic dick substitute would wake him up at the ass-crack of dawn and shoot his plans right to hell. At this point he'd try anything -- maybe a bribe?
One more day, that's all he needed. One more day to finish this project and get the hell out of town, back to his everyday life. Figures that some over-muscled moron with a pneumatic dick substitute would wake him up at the ass-crack of dawn. For four hours there had been nothing but the constant drilling. Not a soft, bee-buzz kind of drilling, but a thump-thump-thump of steel against hard pavement.
There were short pauses now and then. This very moment, for example, was nice and quiet and Kevin could actually hear himself think. Downer was that it never lasted for more than a minute. The idiot in an orange construction vest seemed utterly oblivious to any sort of disturbance he might be causing. Seriously, who starts hacking up pavement at seven in the morning?
One fucking day.
Turning away from the window, Kevin yanked open a whitewashed pine cupboard, grabbed a red mug and poured himself coffee. Just as he brought the mug to his lips, the drilling commenced and Kevin jumped, sloshing drops of scalding hot coffee over his hand. The mug smashed to bits on the grey tiles, sending the black, oily liquid crawling over the floor. He stared at it for a while, hand tingling, shoulders slumped, before a heated flare surged to his chest.
"Fuck!" he yelled and slammed his hand on the counter. The son of a bitch continued drilling, completely unaware of Kevin's anger and spilled coffee.
The loud thumping drowned out Kevin's cussing as he stormed out the kitchen door and ran across the unkempt garden. The emerging sun did nothing to ease his frustration. Nor did the fact that he couldn't even hear the annoying squeak of the gate as he pushed through. The guy had his back turned to Kevin, strong arms shaking under the rolled-up green plaid shirtsleeves. Firm butt cheeks sat like rounded pieces of cement in the blue jeans that rattled under the power of the jackhammer. No amount of yelling alerted him to Kevin's presence, but that did not stop Kevin from spitting out all sorts of creative names.
"… dickless MORON!" rang across the quiet street once the drilling stopped.
Birds chirped in the trees and a dragonfly whirred by Kevin's ear, just before the huge guy turned almost in slow motion.
Kevin swallowed hard as the guy lifted the safety earmuffs up on his red helmet. Sweat glistened on the dark brown hair poking from under. He was easily eight inches taller and twice as muscled.
"Excuse me?" said an ocean-deep voice. On his tanned face, brilliant blue eyes swept over Kevin's small and fragile body.
Kevin reluctantly comes back to his home town to do an audit. The town doesn't hold good memories for him—he got out as soon as he could. He runs into a very hot construction worker who remembers him, though Kevin has no clue who he is!
Nearly everything by Erica Pike is wonderful, and Half-Baked Promises is no exception. Though you may find Kevin a little harsh, he has his reasons, and when he realizes who the hot construction worker is, you know things are going to fall into place. The story was too short, and I would love to read more about these boys!
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