Four bears construction.., p.1
Four Bears Construction Books 1-4, page 1
Four Bears Construction Box Set 1
Caulky
Nailed
Hardwood
Screwed
Four Bears Bonus Scenes Set 1
K.M. Neuhold
Contents
Caulky
Nailed
Hardwood
Screwed
Four Bears Bonus Scenes Set 1
Caulky
Four Bears Construction, 1
Caulky ©2020 by K.M. Neuhold Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations,
places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book and Cover design by Natasha Snow
Designs
Cover Image by Lindee Robinson
Editing by Abbie Nicole
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Epilogue
Blurb
Ren is in desperate need of a rebound fling. Lucky for him, the smoking hot contractor he hired has just the tool for the job.
The last thing I want is another relationship or another broken heart.
All I need are my bees and the occasional hookup to scratch the itch.
Okay, maybe meeting up with my hot contractor weekly is a little more than occasional. And maybe the way I’m starting to feel about the guy I’ve been anonymously chatting with online should concern me.
But CaulkyAF doesn’t want to meet, and Cole doesn’t want anything serious, so what’s the worst that could happen?
**** Caulky is book 1 in the Four Bears Construction Series and can be read as a stand-alone. This is a funny, steamy MM story guaranteed to make you laugh and swoon. Absolutely NO cheating and NO love triangle
Prologue
Ren
“I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.” Henry sits primly on the bed, his hands folded in his lap, a placid expression on his stupid face. I always thought he had a nice face, but at this exact moment, it’s looking rather punchable.
“You didn’t want me to find out I was getting dumped, so you left an invoice from the moving company on our kitchen table?” I scoff, flinging the paper at him, slightly wrinkled from my tight grip. It flutters to the ground, and my irritation spikes.
He flinches, and I grind my teeth together. “Fine, maybe on some level I did want you to find out,” he admits. “I’ve been trying for months to think of a way to tell you, maybe leaving the invoice in plain sight was my subconscious way of just getting it over with.”
“Fine, we’re broken up,” I snap, proud of myself for not letting my voice waiver. “Get the fuck out then.”
He frowns and looks at me for the first time. “The moving guys won’t be here until Monday.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” I mutter. “Fine, I’m going to go stay with Daniel until you’re out.”
I turn with a jerky movement, ignoring the way my eyes burn with everything I have in me. I won’t give Henry the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I’ve done enough of that over the past five years. Funny how he was never the one getting emotional about our relationship. Maybe that should’ve been a red flag all along.
I fling open the closet door, somewhat satisfied by the way it crashes against the wall with a bang, and grab my ratty duffle bag. I can hear Henry shifting around on the bed behind me as I stuff a few days’ worth of clothes into the bag. Does he seriously need to sit there and watch me pack? He can’t possibly have anything to say to me after this fucking stunt, can he?
Maybe he thinks I need some kind of explanation, closure or whatever bullshit he’s telling himself it is. I don’t give a fuck. If he wants to leave, he can go. Everyone always leaves; I’m used to it by now.
“Would you stop fucking staring at me?” I bark.
“I’m not staring. I just...don’t you even want to talk about it?” he offers.
“If you’d have said something before you hired movers I would’ve been happy to talk about it. You’ve obviously made up your mind, so what else is there to say?”
“We’ve been together five years,” he says.
“I know.” I zip up the bag and turn to face him. “Do I need to get tested? Are you fucking someone else?” I ask, surprised by how flat my voice is.
“Jesus, Ren, it wasn’t like that.” The offended look on his face is almost laughable. He was planning to move out without saying a word, but I’m crazy to assume he’s been fucking other people?
I roll my eyes and fling my duffle over my shoulder.
“Whatever, I’ll get tested anyway. Have a nice life.”
I give him the finger over my shoulder as I walk out of the bedroom.
The first tear doesn’t fall until I’m safely in my car. I wipe it off my cheek hastily with the back of my hand and pick up my phone to text my best friend.
Ren: Hey, I’m coming to crash with you for the weekend
Dan: Another fight with Henry?
Ren: Not a fight, a breakup. He’s moving out
Dan: Fuck
Ren: Yup. See you in a few
I notice Henry standing in the doorway as I pull out of the driveway, and I consider rolling down my window to give him the finger again, but decide he’s not even worth that amount of energy.
Daniel buzzes me up as soon as I get to his place and greets me at the door with a bottle of Fireball clutched in his fist.
“Okay, here are your options. We have a big bottle of whisky, or we can go out and scope out hot guys while we get shit-faced,” he offers.
My first instinct is to say let’s stay in, but as soon as I step into his apartment, the walls feel like they’re closing in. I need loud music and too much to drink and enough to distract me from the heavy feeling in my chest.
“Let’s go out,” I decide. “We’ll need the whisky to get us through the rest of the weekend.”
“Good man,” he declares, patting me on the shoulder.
I don’t bother to ask where we’re going as Daniel slips on his shoes and ushers me out to his car. It doesn’t matter where we go as long as there’s enough booze to drown a horse.
Apparently, Wooley’s is the hottest gay bar in town on Thursday night, because the parking lot is packed. I don’t bother giving any thought to all the hot single men though, all I care about is getting shit-faced and forgetting the last five years of my life.
We head straight for the bar, claiming stools at the end. I get a few appraising looks, but I ignore them all, flagging down the bartender desperately.
“What can I get for you?” he asks.
“My friend here just had his heart broken; we need strong drinks, and keep them coming,” Daniel says, and the bartender grins.
“You got it.”
In no time at all a couple of shots appear in front of each of us, along with a glass of amber liquid each. Hell, maybe I’ll marry the bartender because he’s currently my favorite person alive.
“I was going to ask him to marry me,” I confess to Daniel, taking the first shot and reveling in the burn of it sliding down my throat.
“Seriously? But you guys were fighting constantly.”
“I know—I’m a dumbass. I thought that getting engaged would fix everything that was wrong. It’s probably best that he ended things before I could make that stupid move.” I take another shot and chase it with a gulp of rum because I’m not messing around tonight.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” my best friend mutters, taking a shot as well.
“It is what it is,” I say with a shrug. “I’m done with relationships. This was it; I’m tapping out. I’m so sick and tired of getting my heart broken.”
“Amen to that.” Daniel holds up his shot glass and taps it against mine, and we both down another.
Cole
After a long-ass work week my back is aching, and the music in the bar definitely seems louder than usual. Or maybe I’m just getting to be an old fucking man. But regardless of how my knees are treating me, my cock is still pretty sure we’re twenty. I always come to Wooley’s on Thursday nights, no reason to start fucking with my habits now.
Hot men, reasonably priced drinks, a stool that probably has my ass print worn in
I scan the room, perusing my options. There are plenty of young guys, cute guys, guys who promise to be limber and energetic. But I’m in the mood for something specific tonight, I’m just not sure what it is yet. I figure I’ll know it when I see it.
I return my attention to my beer, taking a deep gulp and eyeing the bartender for a moment, wondering if he’d be down for a little fun once his shift ends. He’s cute as hell—wavy brown hair, a perky ass, muscles in all the right places without being too jacked. He looks in my direction and arches an amused eyebrow when he catches my gaze. It’s not a bring it on kind of eyebrow arch; it’s more of a are you serious with that shit kind of arch. And yes, I’ve studied these things extensively; I would know. I give him a friendly grin and swivel on my stool again to finish checking out my options. I heave a sigh when no one happens to turn my crank.
“Not seeing anyone to your liking?” a voice asks from behind me, the hint of sarcasm and humor immediately piquing my interest. I turn to take the man in, a spark of heat catching in the pit of my stomach as a slow smile spreads over my lips.
His dark hair is short on the sides, longer on top, with a rogue chunk falling over his forehead, a fair bit of dark stubble on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are piercing blue and full of the same humor his voice held. My eyes drop down to the rest of his body, lithe but not petite, perfect for manhandling without feeling like I’ll break him. His arms are covered in colorful tattoos, and I have to wonder if he has any hidden anywhere else.
He wobbles on his feet, the drink in his hand sloshing against the sides of the glass. Damn, too drunk to take home.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I flirt, because he’s hot, and flirting doesn’t have to mean hooking up. Although, god damn is he doing it for me. He runs his hand through his hair and grins at me.
“God, I have no idea how to do this,” he confesses, swaying a little again. I tap the shoulder of the guy sitting next to me—his name is Jack; we’ve been sitting next to each other and scoping out the action here every Thursday night for years. “Mind moving, man? My friend here needs to sit down before he falls over.”
Jack lifts an eyebrow at me. It’s a you’re not going to fuck with a dude who’s THAT drunk eyebrow. I shoot him back a look that says you know me better than that. Yup, we’ve known each other so long that we can have an entire conversation based on minor twitches of our facial muscles. He shrugs and slides off the stool.
The hot dude plunks himself down, swiveling to face me.
“So what exactly is it you have no idea how to do? If the answer is hold your liquor, I’d like to request you puke in that direction.” I point toward his other side, and he snorts a laugh into his glass as he takes another drink.
“No, I’m good with my booze, no worries,” he assures me, enough of a slur in his words to cement my decision to keep this to strictly flirting. “Flirting is what I don’t know how to do. I haven’t picked up a guy at a bar in...well, ever actually.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do? Pick me up?” I ask with amusement, taking a sip of my beer.
“I don’t know. Daniel said I should. He said the best way to get over one man is to get under another, and then he shoved me in your direction,” he explains with a shrug that nearly causes him to fall off the stool. I reach over to steady him.
“Ah, you’re here on a rebound mission?” Now his state of drunkenness makes a hell of a lot of sense. Not that I’ve ever had my heart broken, you have to actually put your heart out there for that to happen. I’ve seen my brother Ollie drink and fuck his way through enough breakups to be familiar with the process though.
“Found out my boyfriend was planning to move out without even telling me,” he explains with a humorless laugh. “Whatever, fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” I agree, tilting my drink in his direction and then taking a sip.
“Or fuck me?” he asks hopefully. I chuckle this time.
“It’s tempting because you are hot as fuck and exactly what I was looking for tonight, but you’re too drunk and something tells me that dick isn’t what you actually need to get over this shit.”
He sighs, his expression part disappointment and part relief. “You ever had your heart broken?” he asks.
“I’m like a wild stallion, baby; I’ve never let anyone close enough to break me,” I explain with a playful wink.
“I would’ve gone with a bear, but stallion works. Does that mean you’re hung like a horse?” His eyes drop to my crotch, and I nearly snort beer through my nose.
“Damn, who said you weren’t good at flirting?”
He puts his hand on my thigh, and my cock starts to harden. I can feel the heat of his palm through the denim of my jeans, and fuck if I don’t wish he wasn’t so drunk so I could take him home and find out if a good dicking really is enough to cure a broken heart. Well, not my home because I don’t take guys there.
“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing my leg and leaning in a little, his eyes latching onto mine as he drags his tongue over his lips in the most enticing way I’ve ever seen.
“Tell you what, I’m here every Thursday night. If you ever decide you want to have some fun, come find me when you’re more sober, and I’ll let you find out if I really am hung like a horse.”
He lets out a low moan and then nods his head. “Okay, I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You do that. Now, do you have a safe way to get home?” I check. He mentioned someone named Daniel, but god knows who the hell that is.
He nods again. “My best friend,” he says, waving his hand in a vague direction.
“Good, go home and sleep it off. Then, come back here some other time and find me.”
He wobbles to his feet, and I reach out to help him, dragging my eyes over him greedily one last time. I expect him to walk away immediately, but he keeps staring at me for several seconds, like he’s waiting for something. I might not fuck with guys who are this wasted, but I’m not a saint.
I grab the front of his shirt and drag him to me, pressing my lips to his. I can taste the alcohol on his tongue as he slides it into my mouth. His kiss is sloppy and hungry as our lips move against each other. I get even harder in the confines of my jeans, my cock thickening against my thigh.
I release him before I can get too carried away, pressing one last peck to his lips before I let go of his shirt.
“See you around.”
“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. “See you around.”
I watch as he stumbles back through the crowd, a relieved breath whooshing through me when he reaches a man who must be Daniel. His friend puts an arm around him and leads him out of the bar while I throw a few bills down and stand to leave as well. After a kiss like that, no one else in this bar is going to cut it tonight.
Chapter 1
Cole
“Thanks man.” I give the bartender an appreciative nod as he sets my usual bottle of beer in front of me. My usual beer on my usual stool in my usual bar. The only thing that’s unusual is that not one damn man in the place is catching my attention. Although, at this point, maybe that’s becoming more usual for me than I’d like to admit.
It’s been almost six months since I had a five-minute conversation with a drunk guy nursing a broken heart, and no one has caught my attention since. A five-minute conversation and a kiss I still think about. It’s pathetic. I don’t even know the guy, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again.
Sure, the first few weeks after the encounter I kept an eye out every Thursday, hoping he would turn up and take me up on my offer. But after a month went by without another sighting, I gave up looking. I’m sure that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. If we’d have fucked, he would’ve been another one of the faceless many. We didn’t though, so now I’m curious. Curious is dangerous. Curious is what makes me wonder why Ollie thinks love is so great. Curious is what puts ideas in my head like trying to take someone from a fuck buddy to a boyfriend. It never works; I’ve learned that the hard way.
A man a few feet away gives me a startled look, and I realize I must be scowling. I fix my face into an easier expression and take a sip of my beer. Letting my gaze continue to cycle through the bar, I sigh and resign myself to another Thursday going home alone.
