Read Online Handy Men Do It Better by Dan Sexton - Free Book Online

Chapter One
    J ake Honeywell’s pickup barreled down Farm Road and billowed dust in its wake. Inside the cab, he shifted into third gear and grabbed his Red Bull from the center console. Linkin Park blared from the CD player.
    “Fuck.” Jake slammed on the brakes and took a quick left. “That came up fast.” He downshifted.
    The guitar solo started and Jake tapped his thumb against his naked thigh. He wore an old pair of cutoff corduroy jeans, which had remnants of the prior day’s landscaping job. At twenty-three, the blond, green-eyed, six foot two man bobbed his head to the music and tapped a work boot against the footrest.
    A honking noise blared over the singer’s cry. Jake reached under the company paperwork on the passenger seat and scrambled for his cell phone.
    Honk! Honk!
    He tapped the Answer button before the annoying ringtone went off again.
    “Well, if it isn’t my lovely air-headed...I mean fair-headed sister,” he answered.
    “Very funny, Nimrod.”
    He pressed the clutch and threw the truck into fourth. “You know I love you.”
    “What the hell are you listening to?”
    Jake shut the radio off. “Just a little rock music to get me going.” He picked up the Red Bull, and put it between his legs. “Say, why you calling me so early?” He looked at the clock radio. “It’s only seven in the morning.”
    “To see that you’re okay. Why else?”
    He picked up his drink, took a sip and muffled, “Um-hum.”
    “Mom worries when you don’t come home.”
    Jake shook his head, looked in the rearview mirror at his hair sticking up and patted it down. “I’m not a teenager anymore, Jocelyn.”
    “You don’t have to tell that to me. I’m not the one worried.”
    “Uh huh.” He looked over at the orange grove to his right.
    “I’m telling you. She barely lets me stay out past ten! I won’t have to worry about that when I’m studying abroad next month.”
    “Kid, there’ll be chaperons,” Jake said.
    “Well, once I graduate next year, I’m out of here.”
    “Are those college applications coming along?” He futzed with a wisp of hair.
    “Yes, but I’m not calling to tell you I finished my FSU app last night, or what my interview with Juan did for the essay. I’m calling to find out where you are, and why you’re not home.”
    Jake’s baseball cap—the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, his favorite team—sat on the floor of the passenger area. Jake reached for it while keeping an eye on the road. “Joc”—he grabbed the cap, sat back up and put it on—“I met a guy last night.”
    “Another one?” Jocelyn asked.
    Jake confided in his baby sister, the only other person—aside from himself and the men he’d had sex with—to whom he had come out. A palm tree farm whizzed by. “What do you mean another one?”
    In the past, Jake had periodically messed around with other guys but only recently admitted to it being something more than a casual interest. His refusal to fight his desires any longer had him pumping penises—including his own—like a kid would obsess over a new Xbox on Christmas morning.
    “You’re being safe, right?”
    Jake preferred not to share the details with his sister. “Yes, of course.” She didn’t need to know that his exploits consisted mostly of jacking off and sucking. Rule number one: no ass play unless the guy really meant something—especially bottoming.
    He’d messed around with nearly every bud who fit the bill—meaning equal height, if not taller, and a rugged, masculine, hotter-than-Hades look. Jake’s manly preference for big, tough, and macho whet his appetite, but only for so long. After a night of frolic, by daybreak his libido would often crest again—as it had this morning driving his Ford Ranger, through the Florida countryside, after spending the night with a Bucs’ fan from the club.
    “You didn’t even come home for dinner,” Jocelyn said. “Mom made meatloaf.”
    “Any good?” The main road approached, and Jake slowed