Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,6

women were prized show ponies.

Donovan dragged his fingers through his hair, the salt and pepper strands that were edging their way toward his shoulders another thing that annoyed his stuffy, conservative father. The man didn’t approve of his beard either, but fuck him.

The conversation, or more appropriately, command from his father gnawed at his insides until Donovan knew there was only one solution to make it all go away. Getting drunk and laid would fix everything—even if it was only for a few hours.

Donovan ran through the files in his mind of who might be a good possibility. He didn’t keep a list of booty calls the way a lot of guys did—despite his earlier remark to his brother about a little black book—because he didn’t want anyone getting too attached then trying to blackmail him or something of the like.

Then his thoughts landed on the hunky mechanic from the night before. Silver? Holy Christ. If anyone could eradicate the impending doom of his father’s ultimatum, this guy would be it. Besides his lickable muscles, Silver was a walking piece of art, his gorgeous brown skin a stunning backdrop to the ink that covered almost every inch of his body that had been bared to his gaze. Donovan adjusted his firming cock at the thought of what hidden parts of Silver’s anatomy might also feature tattoos.

Then there had been his deep, jet eyes and full, sensuous mouth. He radiated a hint of mystery, of danger. Goddamn, but the man was fine. They clearly shared a love of luxurious cars, so why hadn’t the guy fallen for his charms? Donovan had originally assumed it was because Silver was straight, but then there’d been that cryptic comment he’d yelled at Donovan before racing away. Had that been an invitation?

Hmm…

Perhaps he should drop by the diner later and find out.

Chapter Three

“Yo, Silver. Wanna grab a quick beer after we’re done?”

Silver glanced up from where he was scrubbing the grill and regarded his longtime buddy, Nico. His friend had helped get him the job at the diner when Silver had decided he needed to moonlight. While Mr. Jenkins paid extraordinarily well when he had a project for him to work on, those jobs could be sporadic. At least his deal with the guy included the small apartment above the garage, but it didn’t pay the rest of his bills when there was no work.

“Not tonight, but thanks. Boss man told me he’s got a sixty-four Morgan four by four being dropped off early in the morning. I might have to restore this one from the ground up.” He shrugged. “I’ll have a better idea when I see it.”

Nico snapped the lid closed on the salad bin then made his way to the walk-in. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds expensive. And I don’t get it. Why does he bother with them when they’re that beat up?”

Nico disappeared into the cooler. Silver chuckled as he finished up and took the scouring brush and towel to the designated wash sink. Once he got everything rinsed out well, he’d put the brush away then toss the towel—along with all the others they’d used that night—into the laundry bag for one of the owner to pick up in the morning.

The rest of the staff was responsible for their aprons, but one of Ray’s sons, who now owned the diner, would take care of anything else. For most of Silver’s working life—which had begun when he was quite young—he’d worked either for his family or other family operations. Corporations weren’t his thing. As it was, he hated not being the one in control. But that wouldn’t last forever. He already had a plan.

He might only be twenty-six, but he’d been putting money away for quite a while. That was another reason for the second job. One he had enough, he’d start his own classic car restoration business, and he’d be the boss. Getting hired by the stupidly rich Carl Jenkins as his exclusive mechanic hadn’t been a fluke.

Silver’s reputation as one of the few guys who could make a seemingly hopeless case into a show-worthy vehicle had brought Jenkins to the door of the old garage where Silver had been employed since he was eighteen. His former bosses had been pissed that Silver had left, but slaving away as one of their ratchet and wrench drones at fifteen bucks an hour for the rest of his life wasn’t in line with Silver’s goals.

The combination of