Page 17 of Bad to the Bone

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Once again, the image of wrapping around Ricky Lee as they powered down the road, the cycle vibrating beneath them, set a flare of heat burning at Alex’s core. He shook his head, as much to dispel it as in response to the question. “I have supplies to bring along, so I’ll need to take the truck.”

“I’ll give you a hand loading them.” Ricky Lee dismounted, and Alex considered how incredibly sexy a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, and the chain of a motorcycle wallet framing a firm asscheek could be.

He unlocked the delivery door and rolled it up enough for them to walk inside, where he’d already stacked the cartons of caulk and applicator guns. “If you’ll get these boxes, I’ll grab the ladders.” Trying not to stare at the flex of Ricky Lee’s muscles as he squatted to pick up a carton, Alex carried the first of several convertible ladders out to the truck.

Once the supplies were loaded in the truck bed, he ran a hand through his hair, brushing back the strands that had fallen over his forehead. “You can follow me to the build site if you’d like, or you can leave your bike here until we’re finished and we can both go in the truck.”

Ricky Lee considered for a moment. “I’ll follow you.”

Alex tried not to feel let down. After all, if he didn’t have to drive the truck, he’d rather ride too.Oh, hell yeah.It was ten minutes at most to the site of the home they were building for the Acosta family—he could survive without Ricky Lee’s presence that long.And maybe he doesn’t want to be stuck depending on me for a ride back if he wants to take off.

He could almost hear Alanna’s voice telling him to stop talking himself out of something without giving it a chance. Deciding that was good advice, he got into the truck and pulled onto the street with Ricky Lee right behind.

Alex hadn’t realized how close the Acostas’ site was to the street Ricky Lee had grown up on until they crossed the Union Pacific tracks that cut the town in two. This section of town had more than its share of empty lots and run-down buildings, but efforts like the Habitat build and similar renovations were trying to turn that around.

The site was already bustling with activity by the time they arrived. Mrs. Acosta had set up a folding table with coffee and homemade conchas, where six-year-old Sofía was helping hand out the sweet pastries to the volunteers. Her father and the two older boys, eight-year-old Mateo and ten-year-old Tonio, were sweeping the floors and wiping down moldings in preparation for the day’s work.

Alex was hoisting a ladder from the bed of the truck when it was taken out of his hands. “I see you brought a new face along,” Father John said, glancing toward where Ricky Lee was stacking the cartons of caulk.

“My friend, Ricky Lee Jennings.” Hearing his name, Ricky Lee walked around the back of the truck, and Alex completed the introduction. “This is Father John Nally.” Out of his clerical garb, in an OU T-shirt almost as faded as Alex’s, Father John might not look especially like a priest, so Alex continued, “He’s the pastor of St. Michael’s, which sponsors the build.”

Father John took Ricky Lee’s hand in a strong clasp. “In name, maybe, but Alex here provides most of the materials at cost—the ones he doesn’t donate outright. And then spends two Saturdays a month contributing his labor as well. We wouldn’t be half as far along without his help.”

“Our goal is to finish up before the end of the year,” Alex said, trying to draw Ricky Lee’s attention to the single-story frame home. “As you can see, the major construction is already complete, and so is the utility work and drywall. Today’s job is to caulk around all the interior molding and all the doors and windows, inside and out. Once that’s done, it will be ready to start painting.”

“He doesn’t like to hear himself praised,” Father John told Ricky Lee with an indulgent smile.

“He hasn’t changed much at all, then,” Ricky Lee agreed.

“I’m standing right here, you know.” Shaking his head at their laughter, Alex picked up a tube of caulk and a gun and raised his voice to gather in the rest of the volunteers. “Anyone who doesn’t know how to use these, let me show you how to load and operate them so we can get started.”

Three hours later, the caulking was complete and they’d sated the appetites they’d worked up with a seemingly endless supply of empanadas provided by Mrs. Acosta. “Ricky Lee, you’re welcome to join us again anytime,” Father John offered as they loaded the ladders back into the pickup.

“If I’m still in town, I’ll take you up on that,” Ricky Lee promised. “In the meantime, I need to let Alex get back home and cleaned up. I have plans with him this evening.”