Read Good Bones for Free Online

man.”
    Chris Nock was a gorgeous redneck who might or might not have been enjoying subtle double entendres at the faggot’s expense. Dylan should have been kicking him off the porch and tossing his cans of crappy beer after him.
    Instead, he heard himself saying, “Okay.”

Chapter 4

    D YLAN was still trying to decide where to plug in his coffeemaker when there was a pounding at the back door. He opened it, blinking bleary eyes at Chris Nock, who wore a pair of tight faded jeans and an equally tight and faded blue T-shirt. He had a leather tool belt around his waist.
    “Mornin’,” Chris drawled, grinning as if there was something amusing about Dylan.
    “Um… morning. Come on in.” Dylan stepped back and ran a hand through his uncombed hair.
    Chris sauntered in and looked around the kitchen appraisingly. He smirked when he saw Kay’s orchid on the counter, then turned to Dylan. “Where we gonna start?”
    “Here, I guess. I wasn’t expecting you quite so early. Hang on while I get the java going.” Dylan took the coffeemaker into his future study and set it atop the mini-fridge. He had to come back into the kitchen to fill the carafe with water, and when he did he found Chris gazing thoughtfully out the windows at the soggy backyard. There was something lonely about the set of those broad shoulders, Dylan thought, and then silently chided himself. He was probably just projecting his own feelings onto his neighbor.
    Dylan waited in the study while his coffee brewed, munching on a cupcake and no doubt scattering crumbs for the mice. Then he took his insulated mug and another cupcake back into the kitchen, where Chris was still at the window. “Want breakfast?” Dylan asked, holding the pastry out.
    Chris looked down at the cupcake—white paper with red polka dots and pale blue frosting on top—and raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t a ten-year-old girl, dude. I had sausage and eggs already.”
    Dylan scowled slightly. “Whatever. There’s joe in the other room if you want it.” Then he set his coffee down and ate the cupcake himself.
    The other man didn’t take him up on the half-hearted offer. Instead, he nodded his head at the toolbox Dylan had set in the corner. “You’re payin’ for my time. Wanna get going?”
    “Yeah. Fine.”
    After a few minutes of discussion they decided that tearing out the cabinets would be a good place to begin. It was hard work, but it was also kind of fun to destroy things. Somewhere inside of Dylan, the wolf reveled in that bit of mayhem. Chris was a hard worker and clearly knew how to use his tools. It had been a very long time since Dylan had done physical work near another man, and he enjoyed it more than he remembered. He found himself frequently distracted, however, by Chris’s rippling muscles or the little droplets of sweat that gathered on the man’s face. Sometimes Chris would pause for a moment to swipe his hair away from his eyes with the back of one dirty hand, and Dylan would find himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through that hair.
    Neither of them spoke much as they worked, so the main sounds were hammers clanging on crowbars and the crack of wood breaking free. But sometimes Chris made little grunts of effort or chuckled when a piece of cabinetry proved especially stubborn, and Dylan would have to hide a smile.
    They took a break midmorning. Dylan slumped on the floor against one wall, mug in hand, while Chris leaned against the remaining cabinet. “We need music,” Chris announced.
    “Sorry. My records and stuff are still packed away.”
    “Records? As in ‘Golly gee, Gidget, come on over and listen to my keen new 45s’?”
    “I like vinyl,” Dylan replied loftily. “I mean, digital’s okay, but it’s a little… soulless. The little pops and scratches—those are more like real life. They have authenticity.”
    Chris rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. I bet a gramophone’s even better. Or… what are those things?