Seducing My Best Friend's Brother

By Van Cole

My Best Friend's Brother Is Hot As Hell

Brad: I don't know what it is about opposites, but they sure do attract.
I found that out when I met Chet the first time.
He's my younger brother's best friend, unlike me in every way – hip, styled, made for the city. Working with him was tough.
Until I started falling for him.

Chet: Brad was weird at first – precise, rigid; not what I'd expect from a small town garage owner.
And when I said I wanted to learn more about myself, this wasn't what I expected – a wake-up to a new world of feelings I'd never acknowledged before.
And Brad is a big part of that. I just don't know what will happen next.
Or when my brother finds out.

This is a standalone Gay Romance with a HEA and NO cheating!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Van Cole
• Release date: Mar 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215418154

Book preview

Chapter 2: Chet

Hello, the tall man greeted me. He held out a hand. I took it, feeling slightly jumpy for some reason. It was a big hand, the knuckles hard and firm, the arm patterned with tattoos. He smiled down at me; his eyes friendly, which was slightly reassuring in such a forbidding person.

Hi, I said again, as he released my hand. He was looking at me with big blue eyes that sparked and I couldn’t quite fathom the expression in them. He was inarguably smiling, but I thought he was a bit shy. Again, it didn’t fit with someone built like a fighter. He looked over at the bus.

Um…you’re Brad, right? I said, noting that he hadn’t introduced himself to me. My brother kind of described you, but I don’t want to go being weird and just walking up to you if you’re not?

He laughed. Oh! Sorry, Chet. Yes, I’m Brad. Good to meet you. How is Dax? he asked.

I grinned. My brother is…well, he’s who he is. He’s doing great, I added, smiling as Brad looked concerned. I don’t give many things a chance against Dax. Dax is as robust as a concrete bunker. He’d been very ill recently, but a month or two of meds had cured him, and it was good to know that we were both worried about him.

Yeah, Brad nodded. You’re right. Are you ready to go? Or would you like to get a beer or something before the drive? It’s so hot today.

Thanks, I said, genuinely surprised by the kind offer. I looked around at the late afternoon scenery, the sunlight bright and orange as it slanted toward the hills. But maybe we’d better head to your home? I don’t want to get us driving back in the dark.

He shrugged. It’s three hours or more till sundown. No worries about that. He looked patiently at me, as if he’d hoped I’d agree with him.

Okay, I said, but I reckon I’d still like to head back…I need some sleep. It was a tough flight.

Oh. Anyone complaining about some hours in an airplane and then another two on a bus was just being awkward, seemingly. Well, let’s go, then. Got your bags?

Yeah, I said, and shrugged uneasily at the thought. I’d brought a backpack with all the necessary belongings – two shirts, two pairs of trousers, a jacket and my toothbrush. I’m used to traveling casually. I just buy the things I forgot – a comb, maybe, or extra boxers. Except, I thought, looking around, that might not work well around here.

I’m parked hereabouts, he called to me, already striding ahead as if there was some time-limit on us.

Brad, I called, running to keep up with his stride as he headed over to the bar. Brad, where’s the drugstore? I asked. I wasn’t sure I’d brought the toiletries I’d need.

He grinned. In Pinehill.

What? I stared at him. You mean…here there isn’t one?

He nodded. Closest one I know is out in Pinehill. It’s about three quarters of an hour away. Not too far to drive. Possible to walk it, too…if you can walk twenty-eight miles.

What? I stared at him. Surely he was pulling my leg…It didn’t seem possible. Where I grew up, there were practically drugstores on every second street! Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you could seriously not walk more than three blocks without finding one. Here, there was only one within a twenty-mile radius? It didn’t seem possible.

He grinned, though his eyes were calm. It’s pretty relaxed out here.

Pretty basic, more like, I thought, annoyed, as I walked along behind him. My feet were aching, the toes pressing in my trainers like my feet had swollen to twice their size. It wouldn’t surprise me if they did – being some hours in a plane tends to do that to people.

If you want, you can put your luggage in the back, he said, gesturing at the pickup. It’ll be alright under the tarpaulin.

Thanks, I said, shrugging out of the backpack. But I’ll put it by my feet, if that’s alright with you.

He grinned, and I felt a bit belittled. Sure, he said. Let’s get in. We have a long drive ahead of us. He walked to the pickup, looking over his shoulder at me as he went. He had a long face, with blue eyes and I thought he would be quite a friendly-looking guy, if he didn’t insist on patronizing me regularly.

It’s three quarters of an hour, I pointed out, as he went around to get into the driver’s seat and I followed him round to the passenger door. You said so.

He just grinned. Let’s get in, he said. It’s always a bit of an adventure.

I climbed up into the pickup and put my backpack down by my feet, leaning back against the padding. I felt uncomfortable, the fine dust that covered everything freaking me out a little. Clearly, nobody had cleaned this pickup in years. I sat awkwardly on the cover.

Now… Brad said, turning the key in the ignition, if I can get this thing going, we’ll go.

I leaned back, watching him turn the key and waiting for the ignition to spring into action. The truck coughed and sputtered, and then started up. I looked out at the town. The sunshine was already slanting a bit across from the hills, and I thought that it was already slightly cooler.

Pretty hot here, I said, by way of conversation.

Yeah, he agreed, still grinning. Wait till you see Pinehill…it’s even hotter.

Really? I asked, again trying to be polite. I was feeling uncomfortable, my spine jarring with every pothole we drove over. Hell, but this road was bad! When did someone last maintain it?

I was going to ask him about that, again more to be friendly than anything else, when he turned to me.

Got any questions about the work? he asked.

The work.

I hadn’t forgotten why I’d come all this way, leaving my home in the city behind. I had just planned not to think about it until we arrived.

My brother had got me a job working with Brad in the garage, which was why I was here. Not as somebody actually working on the cars, you understand; but as the accountant who would sort out the business’ tax and management of assets. I qualified as an accountant last year, and since then I have been basically sitting on my couch doing very little.

Um… I ran my hand through my pale brown hair, thinking about it. Well…I guess I’m there to do the accounting stuff for the garage. Pretty straightforward, hey?

It sounded pretty straightforward. I felt bad for Dax that he’d had to reach out and find me a job, but, let’s face it, it isn’t easy to get started nowadays, and somehow I hadn’t really got things moving in the right direction since college.

He chuckled. Yeah. I guess. Except I’ll be needing you to help out around the office, too – take down appointments, check the cash, deal with customers…all that stuff. I need someone to take care of those things so I can focus on mechanics. That’s why I wanted to hire an assistant. He grinned.

An assistant.

He looked at me and I could almost smile back, his grin was so warm, the edges of those blue eyes crinkling with humor. Sorry…administrative support staff. I don’t know. It should have a fancy name, and it probably does. I haven’t any idea…I never did go to college.

I saw a wistful look on his face. I cleared my throat, surprised by the way it made me feel to see him look sad. That’s okay. Administrative assistant suits me just fine.

He beamed. Sounds good. Let’s go.

We sat quietly for a while, the only sound being the steady rattle of the pickup as we went down the terrible road.

After a moment, he turned to me. You must kind of miss the city.

I made a face. Don’t know, yet.

He grinned, and I thought there was concern in his eyes when he next spoke. I bet you had a lot of friends there.

I shrugged. Not really. I thought about it, touched by the fact that he asked about me. Was there anyone I missed? I didn’t really have that many friends in San Diego. Dax, of course, but other than him…I guess I won’t miss anyone too much.

Oh, he said. I had no idea how to interpret that comment.

We sat silently as the truck rolled on. I heard it start to strain, and I looked sideways as Brad swore.

Damn this thing!

What’s happening, Brad? I asked, feeling, if I was honest, a bit alarmed by the anger in his voice. He sounded furious and worried, and all I could hear was that the engine was struggling a bit. It was still light outside, and I saw no reason for being so freaked out about things.

It’s the engine…it always does this, he said, and swore. It’s when it’s hot. I really hoped it would have had enough and just behaved itself for now.

I frowned. Something was happening, the engine starting to cough and smoke to come out from under the hood, and we were barely making progress. The engine stopped.

Brad put his hands flat on the steering-wheel, the image of a man trying to control his temper.

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Brad got out of the car and went around to the back. I watched him while he opened the hood of the vehicle. I had no idea what he was doing…If I was honest, the only time I ever looked into the hood of a car was when my friend Jayden bought his car and he’d spent an afternoon repairing it. All I did was help pass him tools. I know nothing about engines.

So, Brad said, bending over the mess of things inside. I stood back and let him get on with it, his sleeves rolled up to show intricate tattoos on broad muscles, and he called out to me while he worked. We can hope this works…or we’re just going to have to wait. Or call someone. Or try and push-start the thing.

Oh, I said. I looked at the truck. I had never push-started anything either. In movies, I’d seen it done and I knew how you were supposed to do it. But I’d never actually done it.

I waited while he finished whatever he was doing, then – after looking at the engine contemplatively – he shut the hood and came over. He walked with an easy rolling gait, his muscled body firm and lithe.

All done, he said. "Now all we need to do is