Page 1 of Dean

CHAPTER ONE

AVERY

There is no way my boss, Dean, is going to miss the purple bruise on my cheek. It stands out like a beacon. I even tried to cover it up with makeup, but to no avail. Somehow, the foundation just made it more noticeable. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I just notice it because it hurts.

I sweep my long, dark-blond hair over my face as I move into the spacious garage, hoping that he doesn’t look too hard.

Oh god, don’t let him look at me.

“What the fuck is that?” Dean says almost immediately, and I sigh. Well, that took all of two seconds. So much for my hour spent in the car, trying like hell to cover it up. What a waste of time and makeup. I could have slept in. Well, not really—considering I’m homeless now and all.

Not that this is the first time I’ve experienced this, but alas. I figured I was on the up and up.

Slowly, I turn toward him, adjusting the straps on my overalls and meeting his dark brown eyes. Fuck, he’s hot. It’s a crime, actually. No one should be this good-looking. Those muscles, those legs. All thosetattoos. Yes, he should definitely be in jail. He’s a detriment to gay boys like me.

“Just a…tiny mishap,” I say calmly. “I ran into a wall. Or a doorknob. Lots of dangerous things out there.”

Dean stalks toward me, his worn jeans hugging his delicious thighs, the muscles in his tattooed arms bunching and flexing beneath his t-shirt as he comes to a stop in front of me. Crime, I repeat, a crime.

His index finger reaches out and touches my chin, tilting my face up, and that one simple contact lights my entire body on fire.

Oh, hell. This is becoming a serious problem.

I cannot like my straight, older boss. That’s not a thing.

“You have a bruise on your cheek,” he says, those dark eyes meeting my light gray ones in a clash of color.

“Yes, well…mishap. Like I said. And really, if you think about it, the color contrast makes it a nice piece of art on my face…”

His eyes narrow and his lips pinch into a thin line. “Office, Avery.Now.”

And then his hand drops and he’s stalking off in the other direction, his tight ass looking delectable in those jeans.

I bet it’s a nice round ass too, perfectly proportioned.

I want to take a bite out of it. Like a piece of pie.

Pulling my gaze away, I glance over and see Dean’s son, Ben, sitting at the small wooden desk in the corner of the shop. He has a textbook open in front of him, his petite body curled over the tabletop, his lips muttering something unintelligible. Cash and Ford are here somewhere in the large garage, working on the slew of vintage cars and motorcycles occupying the space.

Dean, Cash, and Ford own and run this place together. They restore old cars and motorcycles for clients willing to pay through the nose for their talents. And because they’d much rather have fun rebuilding shit, I was hired to help Dean with the nitty-gritty details of running a business this large and successful.

With me taking care of the office work—which was a mess when I first started—Dean can focus on doing the things he loves, like messing around with engine parts and making motorcycles ridiculously loud.

Ben has also stepped up a lot to help his dad. He comes in when he’s available between his college classes and his job at the retirement home to help do simple things, like filing paperwork and sweeping the floors. He and his dad seem really close, so I’m not surprised to see Ben here. And honestly, since I started working here, I’ve noticed there may be other reasons Ben is so eager to spend his free time around the shop. Two very large, tattooed male reasons.

Perhaps Ben is a sluttier slut than I give him credit for.

We just might be in a competition of sorts.

“Avery,” Dean says loudly, and I jump slightly, picking up the pace. That man has the patience of a three-year-old some days. Today is a tantrum day, apparently. He probably had me schedule it in.

Ben glances up from his textbook at the cutting tone of his father, and I send him a wave. He smiles sweetly at me just as Cash rounds the corner, his eyes fixed on Ben.

Oh, that poor boy. He has no idea that these men are after him too.

Or maybe he does.

Either way…bless his little heart.

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