Chapter Five
Colt
I pull up to the garage and kill the engine. The bay doors are already open, music thumping, tools clanging. In most shops the boss walks in and everyone suddenly finds something very important to look busy doing; not here. The second I step through the door; the banter hits me like a damn brick.
“Oi, look who finally decided to show up!”
“Thought you’d be too busy getting your dick wet to remember you own the place, boss!”
I grin despite myself. These cheeky shits are good friends as much as they’re employees, and I’m in far too good of a mood this morning to shut them down.
“Morning to you too, you lazy bastards,” I fire back, voice carrying across the shop. “I see the coffee’s already gone and none of you thought to make a fresh pot. Real stand-up crew I’ve got.”
Ricky, covered in grease up to his elbows, leans out from under the hood of a ’67 Mustang. “We left you the last cup. It’s cold; consider it your punishment for being late.”
“Late?” I snort. “I’m five minutes behind… that’s not late.”
“Yeah, and you look like you got dragged through a hedge backwards,” laughs Marco from the parts counter. “Your hair’s a fucking mess, man. Sarah ride you hard this morning or what?”
I freeze for half a second. Fuck. I completely forgot to fix it after Archie had both hands buried in it, gripping and pulling while he tried to climb me like a tree in the truck. That was hot as hell.
The lads are all smirking, clearly assuming it was Sarah who messed me up; I let them think that.
I run a hand through my hair and grunt. “None of your fucking business what my wife and I get up to. Now shut the hell up about it before I put you all on brake jobs for the rest of the week.”
They laugh louder, but they know I’m not actually pissed. I like it this way. I’d rather be the boss they can rib than some stuck-up asshole they’re scared of. They get the work done either way.
I quickly re-tie my hair back into a neat bun at the back of my head while they settle down.
“Alright, listen up,” I say, voice shifting into work mode.
“Ricky, you’re staying on the Mustang today.
I want that rebuild finished by end of week.
Marco, you and Dex take the custom exhaust job on the Challenger.
I want it loud but clean. Tommy, you’re on oil changes and tire rotations this morning.
I’ll jump between you all once I’ve done the books. ”
They nod, still grinning like idiots but already moving. I shake my head, fighting a smirk as I head toward the office. Little do they know it wasn’t Sarah’s hands in my hair this morning.
…
A few hours later I’m elbow-deep in the Mustang with Ricky, both of us focused on getting the new headers fitted properly. The music’s still going and the usual shop chaos feels good today.
“Marco!” I hear from the other side of the bay. “Lunch run, man. Your turn!”
Marco shouts back, “Alright, alright, I’m heading out. What’s everyone want?”
The lads start yelling their orders; burgers, subs, kebabs, the greasiest shit they can think of.
I straighten up, wiping my hands on a rag, and call out, “Get my usual. Bring it into the office when you get back, Marco.”
He gives me a lazy salute. “You got it, boss.”
The rest of the crew heads over to the big table we keep in the corner, cracking open cans of soda and sprawling out. I like giving them a proper break; miserable, tired workers don’t do good work.
I push open the door to my office and pull it shut behind me. The glass window lets me keep an eye on the whole shop while I drop into my chair. I pull my phone out and dial Sarah, knowing it’s her lunch break too.
She picks up after a couple rings. “Hey, love! You okay?”
I smile, leaning back. “Yeah, good morning here at the shop. What about you? Any elderly mishaps today?”
Sarah laughs; that bright, refreshing sound I never get tired of. “You know I can’t tell you much, but let’s just say one of them has had me running around all morning.”
I grin; she’s a champ. “Anyway, I’m ringing because it turns out Archie’s got an event at the track this evening. He thought we’d be too busy and tired to want to attend.”
Sarah scoffs and I can practically see her throwing her free arm up. “Are you kidding? Ooh, he… you know what, it’s fine. Maybe he was just being considerate.”
She pauses. I’m already grinning, knowing what’s coming.
“Oh, what am I saying?” she huffs. “He didn’t want us there, did he? Is he embarrassed of us?”
I chuckle and lean back in my chair as I log into my socials on the computer.
Archie’s own profiles are basically dead, the kid barely posts anything, but his friend Kim is always updating.
It’s the easiest way I’ve found to keep tabs on what he’s actually up to; for the times he’s home late and Sarah gets worried.
“Well, sweetheart, you can be very… let’s say, loud and proud.”
Sarah laughs. “Yeah, okay, but… I can’t help it; he’s my only kid. I’m allowed to be proud of him. We are going though, right?”
“Of course, love. I’ll meet you there after work, okay? It’s at half five.”
“Okay, I’ll try and see if I can sneak off a little earlier.”
“Alright, love. See you later.”
“Yeah, love you! Bye!”
The call clicks off as I start scrolling through Kim’s page while the shop noise hums in the background. The page suddenly refreshes on its own; a brand new post pops up from just a few minutes ago.
The caption reads: ‘When the coach works you hard #exhaustedpigeons’
But it’s the photo that makes my jaw clench so hard I hear my teeth grind.
Kim’s flat on her back in the grass, and Archie is draped halfway over her like he fucking belongs there; his face way too close to hers, cheek pressed against her shoulder, their sweaty bodies tangled.
Jay’s arm is thrown across both of them like it’s nothing.
My eye twitches… that’s my boy, marked up under those clothes. Still sore from my cock and my teeth. And here he is, smiling like a happy little brat, letting other people touch him.
I inhale sharply through my nose, fingers tightening into fists.
I know it’s irrational. I’ve only had him once, really had him…
plus that desperate make-out session in the truck this morning; that’s it.
These two have been his friends for years.
They’ve probably piled on top of each other after practice a hundred times before I ever laid a hand on him.
And yet the sight of Archie smiling like that, comfortable and close with other people, makes something dark and ugly twist in my gut.
He’s mine now. Those marks on his thigh and wrist? Mine. The way he whimpered and tried to climb me in the truck? Mine. The way his tight little hole squeezed around my cock this morning while he pissed all over me? That belongs to me.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the photo with narrowed eyes. My fingers drum slowly on the desk as I try to talk myself down.
It’s just friendship, exhaustion, and team bonding; nothing more. Still… the thought of anyone else, even his oldest friends, touching him, being that close to him while he’s all sweaty and smiling, makes me want to drag him home by the back of the neck.
I exhale through my nose, a low, possessive growl rumbling in my chest. You’re going to feel me watching you tonight, baby.