Drilled by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 1
RIDGE
I wake up with a groan, swatting at my alarm clock and squinting at the time. My sleep-fogged brain takes a minute to ponder why my alarm is set for half an hour earlier than usual.
“Fuck,” I mutter when I remember that my boss, Cole, asked me to come by early this morning to discuss something.
I’ve only been working for Four Bears Construction for a couple of months now, but it already feels like home. I’ve worked a hell of a lot of construction gigs in the past twenty years, but it’s rare to find a solid group of guys like the ones here.
There’s just one problem…
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and reach between my legs to unstick my sweaty balls from the inside of my thigh. I feel like I need one of those safety posters hanging on my bedroom wall. We’ve gone five-thousand four hundred days without imploding a lifelong friendship and ruining numerous lives.
Yup, I’m not the only one Cole asked to see this morning, and frankly, the fact that he wants to see both of us before anyone else gets into the office feels a touch ominous.
I was fucking stunned when I walked into Cole’s backyard to meet my new coworkers and found myself face to face with a man I haven’t seen in fifteen years. And yeah, seeing the utter rage simmering in his eyes when he spotted me stung like hell. But I’ve kept it professional. That doesn’t make me any less nervous, like I’m a kid being called into the principal's office to be told off.
I yawn and drag my hands through my hair, forcing myself out of bed. Being late isn’t going to make whatever this is any easier. It’ll be better to face it head-on, which is incidentally a philosophy I wish I’d adopted in my twenties. It would’ve saved me a friendship.
I go through the motions of showering, my mind a thousand miles—or rather, fifteen years—away. I’ve replayed every second of what happened over and over until it feels like it was someone else’s life, or maybe something I saw in a shitty movie. I’d do a hundred things differently if I could, but life doesn’t work that way.
All I can do now is move forward. And what I’d really like to do is explain everything to Apollo. Unfortunately, the last time I tried, he punched me in the eye. Granted, that was the same night as the wedding that never happened, but he doesn’t seem any more receptive to my explanation now. Every time I get near him, he growls or glares. If it wasn’t directed at me, I’d be downright nostalgic over how much he hasn’t changed in all this time.
As it is, I’m left feeling like I’m trying to make amends with an ornery bear, who hasn’t quite decided if he’s going to maul me or not.
My cock jerks and I roll my eyes at myself. Not that kind of mauling…fucking unfortunately.
I get dressed, noticing a few stubborn hickeys that still haven’t faded after my Friday-night hookup. Dude was a fucking biter, but the sex was astoundingly mediocre. Exhausted doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about hookups and the hamster wheel of dating apps.
The thing is, I really did want to be married all those years ago…just not to Anna.
When I pull into the Four Bears parking lot a short time later, Apollo’s beat-up old Nissan is already in the lot, along with Cole’s and Stone’s trucks. Fucking hell.
Don’t get me wrong, Stone is hilarious and a truly good guy, but if I’m going to get chewed out, I’m not sure he’d be my top choice. On the other hand, maybe he’ll say something ridiculous and soften the blow of whatever reprimand I get.
Only one way to find out.
I take a steadying breath, reminding myself that I’ve been working my ass off, and I’m damn good at what I do, so whatever issue Cole wants to discuss, he’d be an idiot to outright fire me, and I have no problem telling him exactly that. In a respectful way, of course. Well, respectful-ish.
The gravel of the parking lot crunches under my shoes as I make my way up to the building. The walls of the first hallway are decorated with various things the guys have hung up: a very phallic tool picture made by Ollie’s husband, Daniel, a double-entendre-riddled tool safety poster put together by Miller, deck pics from a previous contest, a collage of photos of everyone’s pets—including several very blurry pictures of honeybees that Cole’s husband, Ren, owns? Tends to? Bee keeps?—and, of course, the hilarious BINGO game I was introduced to on my first tour of the place.
A pang hits the center of my chest. I want to be part of this group, but I’m not sure I fully will until I smooth shit out with Apollo. Add that to the list of reasons why I’m this close to braining the guy over the head, tying him up, and forcing him to hear me out already.
I can hear the sound of Cole and Stone chatting inside Cole’s office as I get close. I’m assuming Apollo is in there too. He always was a man of few words. Well, around most people anyway.
That damn pang hits again, harder and deeper this time, a lump forming in my throat. How the fuck can I still miss my best friend this much after so long? Shouldn’t I be over it by now?
I do my best to shake the feeling off, raising a hand to knock on the door and immediately being told to come in.
Stone is reclining in Cole’s desk chair, his feet up on the desk, while Cole leans against the front and Apollo sits in one of the two chairs facing them.
“Thanks for swinging by early and stop looking so nervous. You look like a virgin in a whorehouse,” Cole says, waving at the empty chair.
I wait for Stone to say something ridiculous, like argue that it’s supposed to be a warehouse or some shit, but he simply sits, twirling a pen between two fingers.
“You really do look like you’re about to shit yourself. You’re not in trouble,” Stone assures me. “Now I’m glad that Ev and Ollie couldn’t make it this morning. That really would’ve scared him.”
Apollo lets out a breath through his nose that sounds an awful lot like mocking, so I shoot him a quick glare. I know, extremely mature of me.
“So if we’re not in trouble, why are we here?” I ask, and Apollo grunts, which is grumpy-ass bear for yeah, what he said.
“We have a job we want to discuss with the two of you,” Cole says.
“Oookay.” I draw out the word, trying to figure out why we would need to come in early to be told about our next project.
“It’s a big one,” Stone hedges.
“We can handle it,” Apollo says, a gruff edge to his voice that never fails to raise the hair on my arms.
Cole and Stone share a look, half-wary, half-mischievous.
“What’s the catch?” I’m sure there is one, and based on the way they’re acting, it’s a doozy.
“It’s a ways away,” Stone answers vaguely.
“How far are we talking?”
“Four or five hours, depending on how you drive,” Cole says.
I let out a low whistle. That is pretty damn far but doable. We can get rooms at a motel nearby and knock the project out as quickly as possible. Whatever the project is. They still haven’t said.
“Why so far? They don’t have any contractors five hours away?” Apollo raises an eyebrow and studies the two of them suspiciously. “Stop bullshitting and just tell us what the job is already.”
“It’s a campground,” Cole finally says. “It used to be a summer camp, but a kid drowned there in the seventies or something, and it got shut down. Now, some guy with fond memories of the place bought it and is willing to pay big bucks to get all the dilapidated cabins back up to snuff.”
“That’s literally the plot of Friday the Thirteenth,” I point out. “You want to send us to Murder Camp to get slashed by some confusingly giant child ghost?”
Apollo makes a tsk sound through his teeth. “It was his mother, not a giant child ghost.”
“In the first one, sure,” I agree. “But the rest of the time, it’s Jason himself, all giant and bulky, even though he died when he was six or some shit.”
“Because he went to hell and the demons made him giant, right?” Stone pipes in, and Cole rolls his eyes.
“There won’t be any child ghosts or vengeful mothers, giant or otherwise,” he assures us. “But,” he tacks on, “it will be just the two of you, an hour from any civilization…for a month.”
My heart does a confusing roll in my chest, unsure whether it wants to jolt with nerves at the idea of being cooped up with my former best friend who now hates my guts for a month or excitement that this might be the best opportunity I’ll ever get to force Apollo to hear me out and convince him to forgive me.
“No,” Apollo says flatly, standing up, his chair scraping noisily against the linoleum floor.
My stomach sinks. Well, I guess that’s that.
“We’ll pay you overtime for the entire month,” Stone calls after him just as he reaches the door.
His hand pauses on the doorknob as his muscles tense.
“We know there are issues between the two of you, and I’m sure it seems like we’re fucking with you by sending you out into the middle of bumfuck nowhere for a whole month, but this is a legit job, and if the two of you don’t do it, then we’re going to have to draw straws to see which two guys are going to be missing their husbands or boyfriends for a whole month.”
Apollo’s shoulders slump, and I hold my breath to see what he’ll say.
APOLLO
My heart is flailing wildly, every inch of me tense and coiled. Fuck, I was really hoping this was just a shitty prank the two of them thought up to pull on us. Overtime for a full month is appealing as hell, but nowhere near worth it to spend that time with the last person on the entire planet I ever wanted to see again.
“So, basically, you’re punishing the two of us for being single,” I say gruffly because if I’m going to get guilted into this bullshit, I’m at least going to make them feel bad about it.
“No, you’re being rewarded with overtime,” Stone argues with a smile in his voice. I hear the scraping of another chair and then the heavy clomp of footsteps. A few seconds later, Stone puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’d really be doing us all a favor, man.”
“And I suppose there’s absolutely no chance I’ll convince you guys not to make bets on whether we murder or fuck each other, no matter how much I protest?”
“None whatsoever,” he answers in a serious tone.
“Fuck,” I groan, squeezing the door handle and wishing I was the kind of asshole who could tell them to shove it up their ass. But I fucking love this job. And if I’m totally honest with myself, had I managed to stop being surly long enough to land a long-term boyfriend or husband, I wouldn’t want to spend a month away from him building cabins in the woods either.
“Is that a yes?” Cole asks.
No way am I getting an actual yes to pass my lips, so I grunt.
“That’s a yes,” Ridge interprets, and I grit my teeth. Fuck him for still knowing what every one of my grunts and growls means. Fuck him for showing up here and ruining the good thing I’ve had going for the past year, and especially fuck him for destroying our friendship the way he did.
“Fantastic. Are you on board too?” Cole checks.
“Yeah, I’m in,” Ridge agrees easily.
Four weeks in the middle of the woods with Ridge fucking Tanner. The only upside is that if I end up murdering him, there will be plenty of places to hide the body.
“When does the job start?” I ask, staying by the door so I can bolt as soon as possible. I’ve already exceeded my daily maximum time I can be within five feet of Ridge before my blood pressure skyrockets and I have a stroke.
“Next week,” Cole answers.
I grunt one more time, out of questions to ask for the moment. I’ll worry about getting the exact location later on. Right now, I need to go change into one of the Four Bears Construction polos and get over to the basement remodel I need to finish up this week.
“Wait up,” Ridge calls after me down the hallway. I don’t slow my steps, but I don’t speed up either. What can I say, I must be going soft now that I’ve hit forty. “If we’re going to be spending a whole month alone together, maybe we should finally clear the air, talk shit out.”
“Pass.”
He huffs in frustration. “Why won’t you just let me fucking explain?”
“Because I don’t want to hear it,” I answer simply, keeping my voice even. That’s been the key over the past fifteen years. I was pissed as hell when it happened, so beyond livid that I saw red that day. Punching Ridge in the face helped a little, but mainly I dealt with the fact that I lost my best friend—and admittedly my first pathetic crush—in the blink of an eye by shutting down every ounce of emotion I had about any of it. I stuffed it away and threw out the key. I’m not about to open it now just because he wants to talk shit out.
“You’re a stubborn prick,” he mutters, shoving past me toward the lockers.
He strips his shirt over his head, grabbing a polo with jerky movements while he mutters under his breath about what an asshole I’ve always been. He’s not wrong. I don’t even have an excuse. I have an incredible family and a pretty good life. I don’t get laid nearly enough, but that’s not the issue. I’m just prickly as hell. There was a time he claimed to find it charming.
I glance over at him, in spite of myself, catching a quick flash of his torso before he pulls the new shirt over his head. His chest is dotted with fading bruises from his nipples to his collarbone. I frown, curious what happened but not nearly enough to ask and open the door to casual conversation.
He catches me looking and smirks. “Wild hookup over the weekend.”
My stomach twists and I bare my teeth at him. After all these years, somehow, I’m still jealous. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.
“Want to hear about it?” he taunts, and I clench my fist to keep from punching him. It helped once, so who knows, it might make me feel better again.
Fuck, it’s going to be a long damn month.
