The Mechanics of Love Read online

  “The Mechanics of Love”

  M/M Gay Romance

  Max Hudson

  © 2019

  Max Hudson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2019.03.20)

  http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: William G. Wallick, Chris F., Bob, E.W. Gregg and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Adam Jackson Wendover huffed as he looked outside and pulled his leather mittens out of the pockets of his wool overcoat. He had just finished speaking with one of his clients, a man named Brooks who had been tried and convicted for a wide variety of federal crimes around two years ago. The various appeals were making their way through the courts, but in the meantime, Adam was at the prison in the middle of nowhere in Florence, Colorado, speaking with his client. He needed to get back to Denver, and he was already dreading the drive. The weather was turning, his traffic app on his phone said that I-25 was a parking lot, and his meeting with his client had been incredibly unhelpful. The snow was coming in from the East, so, for once, the weather was less messy in the mountains.

  “You sure you want to try and make it back to Denver?” a female security guard asked him, glancing at the sky that was already becoming gray and ominous. The faint odor of cows that always came down from Greeley right before bad snowstorms permeated the air. “You might want to just spend the night in Colorado Springs.”

  Adam resisted the urge to make a face. He wasn’t about to explain his dislike of Colorado Springs to a random stranger. “I have a lot of meetings tomorrow morning. I’ll make it back.” The last remnants of his Boston accent tended to reappear when he was tired, and he was close to exhaustion.

  She looked skeptical but didn’t push further. “If that’s the case, take the back roads. It adds an hour, but with the accidents on I-25, you’re more likely to get home ahead of the weather.”

  “Where does it let out?”

  “285. It’ll get you home.”

  “I think I’ll do that, thank you.” Adam nodded at her, pulled a knitted hat on over his head, and headed out into the cold, windy afternoon. His black sedan was parked under a light pole, and as he made his way across the old snow and ice in the parking lot, he regretted forgetting his scarf. As soon as he was in the car, he set his GPS for Denver, selecting the long route, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Adam Wendover was tall and had what his friends would call an unexpressive face. His clients said he looked more severe than the judges or prosecutors. He was blond, with very sharp cheekbones and a nose that had been broken twice during his stint in college football. He had contemplated having it fixed by a plastic surgeon, but it never seemed worth the trouble or expense. His eyes were gray, and he had a carefully trimmed beard. His sister, Lucy, informed him often that he was too handsome for his own good. He never had any trouble finding someone in a bar or online, but they didn’t usually stick around very long, generally citing his stoic personality as the reason they weren’t interested.

  The road swiftly became wet, then slick, then full-on icy. Visibility wasn’t excellent, but he was managing, and he was thankful he had new tires and all-wheel drive on the car. The road continued winding, and the wind and snow were making everything harder and harder to see. The GPS said he was still well over an hour from Denver. There were a few other cars on the road and one large snowplow that whipped past him and sent rock salt skittering over the paint on his hood. The sun was down entirely, and the world was eerie and quiet from the muting effects of the snow. And that snow was getting heavier, and starting to fall at an angle.

  Adam was sweating and felt that low-grade panic he knew was a sign he needed to get off of the road before something terrible happened. He was a logical person by nature who didn’t believe in intuition, but something in his head was screaming that this was bad. He felt the tires skitter on a curb and slowed down even further, glancing at the GPS to see when the next town would come up.

  Then, without warning, he felt his car dip and jolt with a sickening crunch, and his stomach felt like it fell through the floor. He was still on the road, still moving forward, but he must have hit a pothole…or possibly a large rock…because now his car was pulling dramatically to the left, and there were noises he really didn’t like coming from the steering.

  He pulled to the side of the road and stopped, blinkers flashing.

  He swore loudly and thumped his head against the steering wheel, feeling ready to cry for the first time in as long as he could remember, then pulled himself together and got out of the car. He was an adult. He was a Bostonian. He would not panic.

  Adam picked his way around to his right front tire and looked at it, and it was very definitely pointing further to the left than the other tire. He crouched down and could see metal bent in ways he didn’t recall seeing it bent before. It also looked like there was coolant leaking from the radiator. He sighed and got back in the car before he could freeze.

  A glance at his cell phone told him that he wasn’t in range of a cell tower, but that he was about 10 minutes from a town. With a hard swallow, he put the car back in gear and applied the gas as carefully as he could, creeping forward through the snow again. His dash was lit up like a Christmas tree, and he just hoped the car wouldn’t decide to stop moving forward.

  Chapter Two

  Franklin Scott, known by most people as Rust, leaned against the counter at the front of his mechanic shop, watching the snow begin to fly. It was late, close to closing time, and he had sent his employees home. He lived in a cabin a few hundred yards behind the shop, and he wasn’t really concerned about getting himself home, but his employees in the little town of Jupiter Peak all lived far enough away that he didn’t want them to be stuck.

  He chewed on a gummy, strawberry
candy stick, pondering the snow, debating if he wanted dinner at all, or if some hot chocolate with marshmallows would serve him fine. There were gas pumps out front, all self-serve, and a few coolers with drinks and snacks in the corner by the counter. He turned the gas pumps off when nobody was around, mainly out of paranoia, but there was an emergency call button out front, just in case someone was in serious trouble and out of gas. There wasn’t another gas station until Pine Junction, and people did get unlucky.

  Rust was just about to lock the front door and set the phones to forward to his cell phone when he saw a black German sedan coming up the road, moving even more slowly than the weather warranted. As the car got closer, Rust could see that it wasn’t keeping a straight line and there was something seriously wrong with the vehicle. He sighed and grabbed his coat and gloves as the car pulled into the parking lot.

  The man that got out of the car in front of him was average-to-tall and wrapped in a thick coat, and he moved deliberately with the kind of control that Rust associated with professional dancers or athletes. Rust wasn’t short himself, but he had a fairly average build, and he felt decidedly awkward just watching the man walk toward him.

  “Car trouble?” he asked as he approached, trying to sound as friendly as possible. He didn’t want to come across like a yokel in a horror movie.

  The man sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. I hit a rock or something in the road, and I think it knocked the car out of alignment. I know the radiator is leaking.”

  Rust nodded as he looked at the car. “Yeah, sure enough.” He crouched down in the snow to look at the rear wheels, then the front wheels. “You have one tire going flat and some pretty nasty suspension damage. We can patch the radiator, but it’s going to take at least a couple of parts to fix the rest of it.”

  “And, let me guess, these are parts you don’t have in stock.” The man sounded resigned, not disparaging, though his comment could have been snarky.

  “You’d be right, I’m afraid,” Rust replied, deciding to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. “We don’t keep a lot of parts on hand for cars like this up here. Folks with fancy cars usually go down into Denver for repairs.”

  The man rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And I can’t drive it into town?”

  “In this weather?” Rust raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t, but I can’t stop you if you want to try.” He pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears, both to keep warm and because he was maybe blushing a bit standing this close to a hot guy after a long dry spell. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t professional to flirt with a potential client…especially one that was trapped in their little town with no way out.

  “I don’t have a death wish.”

  “Yeah…then I wouldn’t recommend trying to drive out.”

  The man sighed heavily. “Great…great. I guess the next question would be whether there’s a hotel around here?”

  Rust shook his head. “No, not as such, I’m afraid. Why don’t you come in out the wind, and I’ll get your car pulled into a bay so I can look at it. Maybe I can do something to get it moving long enough to get you home.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could…I’ll pay whatever you ask.” The man handed Rust his fancy key fob and headed into the shop.

  Rust sighed and looked at the car. He didn’t think there was going to be much he could do for the car without the necessary parts, but he had to try, given the man’s predicament. He got in and turned the car on with the button, and the dash lit up with warnings, all of the sensors indicating that the car was decidedly unhappy with whatever had happened to it.

  “You’re not going anywhere fast, are you, baby?” He patted the steering wheel, then pulled into the bay and shut the door behind him so that it wouldn’t let more snow in. He got out of the car and raised it up on the lift, and could tell immediately that there wasn’t anything he could fix that would make the car safe to drive.

  His stomach flipped a little. There was bed and breakfast about ten miles down the road, which ordinarily wouldn’t be too far, but no way was he going to send the guy out in this. He supposed he could drive the guy out there himself, but with how heavy the snow was already, that didn’t seem like a good idea either. Rust sighed and pulled his cap down over his face and resisted the urge to groan.

  Why did the guy have to be good looking?

  Chapter Three

  The look on the mechanic’s face as he came back in from looking at the car was not promising, and Adam was focusing on that, rather than the fact that the mechanic was fairly hot in a rugged, hard-worn kind of way. He had a lazy, charming smile and an earnestness that always made Adam’s stomach flip. He was so used to dealing with people that were a little disingenuous, and out for their own benefit that it was incredibly appealing to be around someone who seemed a lot more…honest. Of course, he didn’t really know this guy was honest. He could be a sketchy mechanic out to rob him blind. Adam prided himself on being able to read people, which was a necessity as an attorney, but everyone had their blind spots. The mechanic had a nose that was a little too prominent for his face, and thin lips surrounded by scruff that could use either a trim or a shave. His eyes were a warm hazel, and his hair looked close to blond. His coveralls were tied around his waist, so Adam hadn’t been able to read a name tag, and he’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t introduced himself.

  “Can’t do anything?” Adam asked, shaking himself and trying to focus on the task at hand.

  “Not a damn thing. You’re looking at a few thousand in repairs, I’m afraid. I can get you a tow truck and get you back down into Denver but…after this storm? You might be waiting a long time to get it fixed. The shops that do suspensions will all be swamped.”

  “You really think you could get a tow truck in this storm?”

  “Well…” the mechanic looked outside, voice hesitant, “maybe not.”

  “Could you get it fixed faster? Once you get the parts?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe twenty-four hours once I have the parts. But I’m not going to promise that anything will show up until the snow ends and the roads get clear. And that’s the problem.”

  Adam sighed. “Fuck.”

  “Wish I could give you better news.” He reached behind the counter to grab a bottle of seltzer. “Grab something to drink from the cases, if you’re thirsty.”

  “Thanks…” Adam nodded. “I’m Adam, by the way.” He grabbed a cola from the cooler, mind racing with how he was going to get himself out of this mess.

  “Frank, but everyone calls me Rust.”

  “Rust? Not Rusty?”

  The other man laughed. “Nah, Rust. Been my nickname since I was a kid.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re trying to avoid in cars?” Adam grinned, turning on the charm a little. If he was going to be stuck here, either waiting for a tow or for a part, he was going to flirt a bit. He had no idea if the small-town mechanic dated men, or even if he was single, but flirting was like breathing to Adam, especially when the man in question was good-looking.

  “Yeah, true enough. Never want to see rust on cars. But I used to drag home bits of metal and car parts and all kinds of junk when I was a kid. I must’ve had more tetanus shots than anyone. My dad set me on fixing tractors to keep me out of trouble.” Rust finished his seltzer and threw the bottle in a recycling bin by the door. “Anyway, I can try and call a tow for you, if you like. Not optimistic it’ll come.”

  Adam looked outside to see the snow blowing sideways and obscuring the road completely and swallowed. “No, no I don’t want someone else risking their life in this crap. Do you know somewhere I can stay until this all calms down?”

  Rust threw a thumb over his shoulder. “I live in a house out the back. It isn’t fancy, but you’re welcome to the guest room until we get your car working again. There is a bed and breakfast ten miles down the road I could drive you to, but…”

  Adam looked outside. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Seems like it would be
a good way to get one or both of us killed.”

  “Yeah, might be.”

  “I’ll take you up on staying in your guest room if you don’t mind. I’ve got clothes and my computer in my car…”

  “I’ll lower it so you can grab them, and I’ll lock up. Not like I need to be here any longer, anyway.”

  “What, not expecting a rush of customers in a once-in-a-decade snowstorm?” Adam asked as he pulled his hat and gloves on.

  Rust looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Dunno. There might be other folks from the city like you who chance the back roads and get stuck.”

  Adam winced. “Point taken.”

  They made their way to the garage, and Rust lowered the car. Adam pulled his briefcase and overnight bag out of the trunk. He looked at the fucked-up tire and contained another sigh. “I do appreciate your help. You don’t know me, and you could be telling me to get stuffed or to sleep in the store or something. I’m happy to compensate you…”

  Rust unlocked the back door of the garage area and then waved Adam off. “You’re fine. Just swear you aren’t a serial killer. If you’re really feeling grateful, you can cook dinner or something.”

  “I’m not a serial killer, and I’m a very good cook, so fair enough. I’m assuming you’re not a murderer either.” Adam followed Rust outside into the blowing, frigid weather, and waited as Rust relocked the door behind them.

  “Me? Nah, just a small-town mechanic. Killing people seems like too much work. Plus, I’m betting you’re some important son of a bitch with how you’re dressed and the car you’re driving.” Rust winked at him, then led the way through the snow. There was a path that looked like it had been salted earlier, but the snow was getting its grip on the concrete now. Sure enough, they followed a driveway that led through the trees and let out into a small, cozy house with a two-car garage and a fenced yard. The Christmas lights were still up, despite the fact that it was mid-January. The house was a sage green color with river rocks on the garage façade, and it looked fairly new.