Going Off Grid

By SJD Peterson

Clay and Elliott are working toward a dream—working sixty-hour weeks for one of the oil companies that recently sprung up in North Dakota. The pay is good, but is it a fair trade for never seeing each other? The point becomes moot when the company folds, like so many others, and the couple is left with a difficult choice.

Should they find comparable work somewhere else, or is it time to throw caution to the wind and go after their goal—years earlier than they intended?

What they’ve always wanted is to be together and have time to enjoy it, so they follow their hearts. They’re going off the grid and fixing up an old cabin so they can be self-sufficient. But when they go from all the conveniences of the modern world to outhouses, solar power, a shoestring budget, and more mosquitos than they ever thought possible, will they find there’s such a thing as too much time together?

States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Mar 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781635338935

SJD Peterson

SJD Peterson, better known as Jo, is an Amazon bestselling and award winning author of gay romance. Her books have received starred reviews in USA Today. Jo currently lives in Greenville, South Carolina, having had enough of the Michigan winters to last her a lifetime. She has no idea where she’ll end up next but wherever she goes, it will be snow and ice-free. If you want to know more about Jo or when her next book will come out, please visit her website at www.sjdpeterson.com. Facebook: www.facebook.com/SJD.Peterson Twitter: @SJDPeterson Email: [e-mail]

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Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

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About the Author

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Copyright

Going Off Grid

By SJD Peterson

Clay and Elliott are working toward a dream—working sixty-hour weeks for one of the oil companies that recently sprung up in North Dakota. The pay is good, but is it a fair trade for never seeing each other? The point becomes moot when the company folds, like so many others, and the couple is left with a difficult choice.

Should they find comparable work somewhere else, or is it time to throw caution to the wind and go after their goal—years earlier than they intended?

What they’ve always wanted is to be together and have time to enjoy it, so they follow their hearts. They’re going off the grid and fixing up an old cabin so they can be self-sufficient. But when they go from all the conveniences of the modern world to outhouses, solar power, a shoestring budget, and more mosquitos than they ever thought possible, will they find there’s such a thing as too much time together?

States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

For all those who have struggled and kept on dreaming.

Acknowledgments

THANKS TO coffee and insomnia. Without them, this story may never have been told.

Chapter One

AFTER FORTY hours of straight time, twenty-two hours of time and a half, and thirteen hours of double time, Clayton Phillips’s paycheck was sweet. Just like it had been last week and the week before that. Oil drilling was booming in his little town of Dickinson, North Dakota, and he’d been lucky enough to get a job with EOR—Environmental Oil Refinery. He’d been working for them the past six years, riding the boom wave big-time, and cashing in on some serious bank. His six-figure income had his savings account bulging, and considering he was working seventy plus hours a week, he had little time to enjoy any of the money he made. When he got a day off, the only thing he wanted to do was sleep.

When the hell are you going to join this century and get these online? Elliott asked. He plucked the paycheck stub out of Clay’s hand, flopped down in the chair across the table from him, then shook the paper at Clay. Do you know how many trees could be saved if you’d get an online statement?

No, but I’m sure you’re about to inform me. Clay raised a brow when he noticed Elliott’s disheveled appearance. Wait a minute. What the hell happened to you?

Clay and Elliott Kildee had been together seven years, and when Elliott’s wheat-blond hair wasn’t hidden beneath his hard hat, it was pulled back into a tight and stylish bun. At the moment, his hair was loose, falling well past his shoulders, tussled and with pieces of debris scattered throughout the long strands.

Little Man got stuck in the tree again, Elliott said with a shrug. He nodded to the pile of mail in front of Clay. Anything for me?

Clay pushed the stack to Elliott. Haven’t gone through it yet. He sat back in his chair with a wide grin. I tell you what, I’ll save some trees and go paperless with my paycheck when you and your silly cat stop abusing them.

Little Man does not abuse them, nor do I, Elliott responded flippantly without looking up from the mail he was sorting. We simply use them for fitness purposes.

Uh-huh.

Little Man had showed up out of nowhere ten years ago, came barreling out of the bamboo, hissing and posturing like he owned the place. He’d been fifteen ounces of badass. Elliott had picked him up by the scruff of the neck and greeted the feline as little man. The name stuck. However, the thing should have been named Houdini. He’d been de-nutted when he was but a wee kitten, and they’d done their best to make him a house cat, but no matter what precautions they took, the little shit was constantly escaping and going on adventures, which usually ended with him stuck at the top of a tall tree. He had no problem climbing, but coming back down was another issue altogether. Elliott had to rescue the trapped feline on a weekly basis.

Clay slid to the next chair and picked a leaf out of Elliott’s hair and then a pine needle from his thick beard. He then noticed the small scrape on Elliott’s forehead and the smudge of pine tar on his cheek. What the hell did you do?

I got him out of the big oak with no problem, but he thanked me by running through my feet and I ended up hugging a pine tree. I suppose that’s better than falling out of the tree and landing on my ass like the last time. Elliott laughed, his bright green eyes shining with amusement.

That cat is going to be the death of you.

The big feline was a major pain in the ass. Escaping, getting stuck, leaving dead animals on the front porch and his hair on every surface in the house. He was also irritating as hell at night. Midnight was his prime time to play. He would bring every toy he owned to their bed, and when they ignored him—because they were sleeping, duh—he’d get Clay or Elliott’s attention by dropping his toys in their faces or biting their noses. Locking Little Man out of the room wasn’t an option since he’d simply sit by the door and howl until he was given access. Why Elliott loved him so fricken much, Clay didn’t have a clue. If it were up to Clay, he’d be eating him some wan-ton-kitty. Okay, he wouldn’t actually kill the damn cat, but he still threatened it on a regular basis. The dislike was mutual. Little Man hissed whenever Clay got too close to Elliott, and Clay swore the bastard purposely rolled on his clothes. His always had twice the amount of hair on them as Elliott’s did.

Letting go of his inner grumbling and whining about Little Man, Clay turned his attention to their evening plans. So, anything exciting you want to do tonight? I was thinking we could kick back with pizza, beer, and watch some movies. I’m too fucking tired to go out.

No can do. Roger’s called in again, and one guess whose turn it is to cover for the asshole.

Clay threw up his hands. Oh, come on! We haven’t had a day off together in weeks. I was looking forward to getting to share a bed because it’s been just as long getting off there as well. Elliott also worked for EOR, but they were on opposite shifts, and it sucked.

I’m sorry, babe. I was looking forward to it too, but what can I do? I can’t ask Donald again. He covered for me the last time Martin called in.

I don’t understand how the guy still has a job, Clay grumbled. He had a good mind to storm over to Martin’s and pop him right in his selfish head. Give him a good reason to miss another day of work. Son of a bitch was always screwing up his screwing.

He knows how to play the FMLA card, Elliott responded with a shrug, then sat back in his chair.

He’s going to need family and medical leave for real if I get my hands on him. Last time he called off, I heard he was spotted on the golf course. I don’t get people like that. He’s playing the system and fucking the rest of us royally.

Elliott reached out and laid his palm