Tool Time by Jayne Rylon

Author:Jayne Rylon [Rylon, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Happy Endings Publishing

13

Quinn looked up from the engine he was rebuilding and saw Devra approaching, her long black hair shining as the breeze stirred it behind her. She was carrying the cobalt blue tray that was starting to elicit a Pavlovian response from him. He smiled and called to Trevon, “Hey, man. Look sharp. Your wife is incoming. I think she’s bringing us some lunch.”

There were a lot of things he liked about having Devra and Trevon around Hot Rides, but he had to admit her homemade meals was one of his favorites.

“Do you think she made falafels? I swear I could eat them every day and never get tired of her. Them, I mean.” Quinn rushed to correct his slip of tongue. His crass thoughts were getting harder to keep to himself, though. He’d been walking around with a perma-boner for days, making him think ruefully of those ED pill commercials that warned about prolonged erections.

Hopefully he wasn’t causing permanent damage downstairs.

“I think she said she was doing shakshouka today, but that was yesterday. Now who knows?” Trevon trailed off.

“Even better.” Quinn rose from his crouch and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit. Trevon kept working. So he kicked the bottom of the other guy’s boot with just enough force to get his attention. “Dude, let’s go.”

Trevon didn’t look up from what he was doing. He muttered, “Be there in a minute.”

That was weird. Usually he was racing Quinn to the break room, especially when Devra made shakshouka. It was his favorite.

“Suit yourself. Don’t come crying if I polish it all off before you can get some, though. I don’t have much self-control when it comes to your wife. Her cooking.” Quinn figured he’d better just go eat before he put his foot in his mouth again. Devra’s food tasted a lot better than dirty boots.

He turned and met her on the walkway, scooping the tray from her and carrying it the rest of the way. “Damn, Devra. This smells even better than yesterday’s lunch.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t smile when she said it.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he opened the door and held it for her to enter first.

She seemed reluctant to join him, looking into the garage for her husband. “Yes. Where’s Trevon?”

“Working.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “His boss must be a total asshole.”

Devra did look up then, shaking her head. “He’s definitely not. It must be important, though, or Trevon would be in here, spending time with you.”

“You mean eating this amazing food, right?” Quinn was kidding around. He snagged a plate and some silverware from the cabinet and dug in. “What is this?” He pointed to a plate stacked with triangles of fried dough.

“Potato and cheese sambusa,” she said, her voice devoid of its usual sparkle.

He had to do something drastic to make her laugh, or crack a smile, something. This side of her was one he didn’t know and it sort of alarmed him. Quinn plucked one up, popped it in his mouth whole, and groaned in genuine

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