Balance (Oakley’s Crew #2)

1. Archie

1

ARCHIE

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER…

F inally, we’re back to work after the long-ass winter. A lot of shit has changed but not working at Oakley’s Crew. That will always be the same. Travis is currently trying to get Oakley to be serious as most of the crew comes back from the long day working.

My muscles ache in the best way from putting in several flowerbeds all across town with my best friend, Walker, who I might add is totally dick-whipped now. His photographer city boy has him wrapped around his little finger, but I couldn’t be more thrilled for him—I’ve never seen him happy like this.

“Oakley, I know you’re excited, but for a job like this, we’d need six people at the very least, and we’re fully booked.” I listen to Travis trying to reason with Oakley.

Never gonna work. When Oakley has something in mind, it’s gonna happen. But Travis is his perfect match—he offers reasoning and pulls him back just enough so he doesn’t go off the rails too much while giving him the freedom to do great things. Those two have found the perfect balance.

Most of the time, I’m pretty damn sure there’s no one out there to balance me out. I’m not even sure I want that. I kind of like being off-kilter sometimes—balance is for landscaping, not for me.

I really do love my job if I’m technically off the clock and thinking about one of the many principles of landscaping design.

“So? We have the men to do this. And it will gain a lot of attention for the business,” Oakley says with an easy shrug. Oh yup, appealing to Travis’s business side. Smart.

But Travis just snorts. “We have more attention than we can handle. We’re going to have to hire some more guys at this rate.”

Jackson saunters in, almost totally covered in mud from head to toe, and I can’t help but laugh. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Jackson says, going over to the sink to wash his arms and hands.

“Mrs. Mason’s dog?” Travis asks, looking a little sheepish.

Jackson looks over at Travis with a grim look. “Fucking Mastiffs. I didn’t see him coming, and I went right in a huge puddle. The dog has no shame, jumping right in with me.”

I grin, and Travis suppresses a smile. “Should have warned you, but you are a dog lover.”

“That I am,” Jackson says, not really all that upset, it seems. “My truck is dirty as hell though.”

Travis just nods, grabbing his phone. “I’ll have it detailed.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says, grabbing some paper towels and trying to wipe himself off. “If you need some new guys, my cousin Cam is looking for a job.”

Travis seems interested, and Oakley perks up, all too happy to hire on someone new. They talk, and I wave as I head outside to go home, running into Walker, who’s putting up some equipment. “Look, I know you probably have plans, with it being Friday already...” he starts, folding his arms over his chest. “But Dutton told me to invite your ass over for dinner.”

I grin. “Your man just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, dropping his arms to his sides. “Just come over, okay? I kind of...”—he rubs at his mouth, mumbling the last words and running them together— “missedyou.” His eyes snap to mine as I laugh. “Shut up.”

I chuckle and then ruffle his hair before he shoves me away. “Aw, I miss you too.” I blow him a kiss, and he shoots me a pissed-off glare.

“Just come over. I know it’s not as exciting as going to the tavern and getting laid, but we’re your friends, and we miss you.”

“I actually haven’t been to the tavern for a while...” I start, realizing I probably shouldn’t have said anything because my best friend is instantly on high alert.

“What?” He looks startled.

I start toward my truck, wishing I’d have kept my big mouth shut. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” I try to open my truck door, but he blocks me.

“How long is a while?”

“Jesus. It’s not a big deal, man.”

“Bullshit,” he says, unmoving. His eyes are narrowed. “Tell me.”

I’m not telling him how long because—yeah, honestly, it’s a little concerning. And I know it will freak him out kind of like it does me. “Couple of weeks.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to play it off. And yeah, it’s more like a couple of months... even longer since I’ve gotten laid...

And I really don’t want to talk about this. “I’m heading to your house,” I say, nudging him out of the way so I can climb into my truck. “I can’t be responsible for your boyfriend’s actions if I get there first,” I say with a sly wink and earn the middle finger in return.

I cackle and close my door, driving out of the parking lot and chuckling when I see Walker not far behind me the entire drive out to his place—his and Dutton’s place. It’s a really cool old house in the country, exactly what Walker always wanted, and now it’s his home too.

I pull up to the drive first, but Walker and I climb out of our trucks at the same time. “You’re really worried your guy is going to leave you for me, aren’t you?” I tease, and he slings his arm around my neck, pulling me to his side.

“Knock that shit off.” He’s not actually mad, and he’s not threatened either. He doesn’t need to be.

That fact is proven when his sexy-as-fuck photographer walks out onto the porch, jeans and a soft-looking t-shirt on with his hair up in a half man bun, his eyes only on Walker. “You brought him home,” he says with a grin.

Walker releases me and heads up the stairs to his man, sweeping him up into a heated kiss, greeting him properly. “Just followed me home,” I hear him say against Dutton’s lips.

Dutton tosses his head back with a full laugh and looks over Walker’s shoulder at me. “We might as well feed you then.”

“You better. Putting up with this kind of friendship is exhausting,” I say as I climb the stairs and give Dutton a quick hug.

We head inside to the massive kitchen, and I notice it’s been updated some and seems still in the process, with tarps and sawdust all over the place. “Looks like Langley’s Construction has been swooping in.”

“Yeah, you know Oakley loves those guys,” Walker says, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and offering it to me. I take it, and Dutton waves him off when he offers him the next one before he takes it for himself.

Dutton grabs some meat and veggies out of the fridge, gesturing toward the kitchen. “It’s going to be the grill for a while, but it’ll be worth it to get rid of the paisley wallpaper and rickety old cabinets.”

Walker wraps his arms around Dutton’s waist, beer bottle still in one hand, and kisses his neck. “I don’t know. I kind of thought it had charm.” A sharp sense of longing soars through me so suddenly, it almost takes my breath away. What the hell? That’s never happened before. It’s obviously not jealousy or wanting either man—though both are hot. They’re more like brothers to me, even if I like to joke about how badly I want Dutton just to get at Walker. No, it’s more like a longing—wanting what they have.

And that’s just completely unacceptable to me.

“Charm? You’re crazy.” Dutton turns around, pulling from his grasp and pecks his lips quickly. “Come on. I’m starving.”

We all head out into the backyard, and I take a moment to look out at the country view. The sun is starting to set behind the trees, creating a stunning display of oranges and pinks. I get caught up in it for a minute while they start the grill and Walker starts preparing the food.

I take a seat in one of the many chairs around the grill, and that’s when Walker lets me know he’s not going to be dropping the conversation from earlier. God. Damn. It .

“So... why haven’t you been going to the tavern?”

That, of course, gets Dutton’s attention, who looks over at me with a questioning glance. “You haven’t? For how long?”

“You two are just really bored in this domestic bliss, huh?”

I take a drink of my beer, hoping they’ll drop it. “Spill,” Walker says firmly.

Dutton nods his head. “Spill. We’re your friends. You can talk to us.”

And they are. And I know that I can, but I still don’t want to talk about this, and I’m not really sure why. I can take someone giving me a hard time—it’s kind of my love language, but when I don’t understand it myself, I’m not sure I can.

“Hey.” My head snaps up, and I see Dutton is sitting in the chair next to mine, looking far too concerned for me to be comfortable with. “You really can talk to us.”

“You’re acting like you’re worried for my safety because I haven’t been to the tavern in months.”

Both of their eyes widen, and I internally curse myself. “Months?” Dutton asks quietly.

“Jesus. Do I have a problem or something? You’re both looking at me like I died, all because I haven’t been going to the tavern. It’s okay, you know?” I sound defensive, but I can’t help but feel vulnerable.

The tavern is sort of my identity and not because I have a drinking problem—I actually don’t order alcohol there all that often. And I don’t hook up every time either. I just like being there around people who’ve become a family to me.

I let one hand drift down over my face, groaning. That’s really fucking sad, isn’t it? “Maybe I’m just over the hookup scene.”

Thankfully, no jokes are lobbed my way, but the looks of confusion and pity are so much worse. Walker shrugs his shoulders, and while he could give me shit about not wanting to hook up anymore—I definitely did it to him for years—he’s the bigger man and just nods. “Yeah, maybe. You want something serious?”

“What, with you two?” I look both men over, and they both look unimpressed. “I’d consider it, but I don’t think either of you could keep up with me.”

Walker walks over, just to punch me in the arm. “Knock that shit off.” He says it playfully, but I can also tell he means it. He’s tired of my defense mechanisms, and how could he not be? Hell, I’m tired of it too somedays.

I sigh and stretch my legs out in front of me, looking at the sunset. “I don’t know. The thought of monogamy kind of makes me gag.”

They both chuckle, and Walker goes back to putting meat on the grill. The sizzling sound makes my stomach growl with hunger. “It’s not so bad.” He’s making googley eyes at his man now, and I make a fake gagging sound until Dutton does Walker’s bidding and shoves my arm.

“Is this about the guy from out of town?”

I look over at my best friend, all joking aside. I haven’t told him much about my hookup with Cane, but of course he’s caught on. “What guy is that again?” Dutton asks.

“No one,” I say curtly, even though I know Walker’s told him about it because I was right there when he did. Not that I minded. We always joke about my hookups, and Dutton is just a part of Walker now. I sigh deeply and look at Dutton. “The one who left me at the motel.”

Dutton’s jaw drops open slightly, and his eyes widen. “You’re still hung up on him? That was months ago.” I take a drink of my beer and look away from both of my friends, but Dutton’s brain doesn’t stop. “Have you been with anyone since?”

Kill me now.

I look back at him, my eyes pleading with him to just shut up, and his eyes get even wider. “Holy. Shit.”

I groan and take another drink. Maybe I need something stronger tonight.

Walker closes the grill and walks over to the chair next to Dutton, sitting down as he peers over at me. “No one?”

There’s no mocking or teasing from either man, and I swear it makes it that much worse. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just going through a dry spell.”

“You know what I think it is?” Dutton asks, and I huff but then nod for him to go ahead and tell me. “I think you’re not used to being rejected. You like to leave them, but instead he left you.”

“That makes me sound like a child. Or an asshole.”

Dutton doesn’t argue. He just shrugs, and I laugh. Walker does too, his eyes meeting mine. “It makes sense though. Why you’re so obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” I say way too defensively.

The truth is I’ve spent way too much time thinking about Cane. I don’t know anything about him, but I didn’t leave after we had sex. I should have left. I didn’t want to, plain and simple. And then he left me.

“I’m really fucked up,” I say quietly.

“Nah,” Dutton says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe there was a reason this guy came into your life. Can you track him down?”

I shake my head, the thought of seeing Cane again kind of thrilling but also terrifying. I’m sure I don’t want him. There’s no way I actually do.

So what would I do if I were faced with him again anyway? Fuck him and then make sure I leave as some sort of revenge thing? Even I’m not that immature anymore.

“I don’t know anything about him.”

Dutton squeezes my shoulder. “Well, maybe we could set you up on an actual date. Thatcher Langley sure is easy on the eyes.” Dutton tries to make his voice drawl low and deep, no doubt an attempt to mock his lover, but it sounds all kinds of wrong coming out of the city boy’s mouth.

“Pass,” I say and motion toward the grill. “Isn’t it ready yet? I’m fucking starving.”

Both men seem to realize I’m done talking about this, but I also know both of them.

I may be ready to let it drop, but neither one of them are going to.