LYNDA AICHER

Excerpt

Chapter One

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A scan of the oversized storage garage left Sawyer Stevens impressed. Organized racks, bins, and shelves housed every kind of equipment required for the excursions Adrenaline Kick Adventures offered. A list next to each type of gear contained a numbering system along with columns for checking pieces in and out and signing off on their condition.

Whoever managed this area was one anal fucker who’d just stepped up a notch on Sawyer’s respect level. This spoke to his own over-the-top demand for safety, order, and precision, backed by a defined procedure that was obviously enforced here.

“Sawyer,” Grady Kelley called, motioning him over. “This is Warren—most call him War,” he said, pointing to a tall, broad, buzz-cut dude. “And Axel.” The second guy was just as wide but about three inches shorter, with just enough hair to hide his scalp. They both screamed military, from their ingrained posture to their assessing study of him.

“Hey.” Sawyer did the handshake routine, sizing the guys up with steady eye contact. Both direct and intent, grips firm without being assholeish.

“They’re partners,” Grady explained. “War is whitewater and rock climbing. Axe here is mountaineering and biking.”

“And snow kiting,” War said, an excited gleam in his eyes. “That’s kick-ass and a fucking thrill.”

“If you want to freeze your nuts off,” Grady griped.

“You won’t if you keep moving.”

“You’re the new whitewater guide, right?” Axel interjected. He was about equal in height to Sawyer, but his girth and almost bursting shirtsleeves gave him the size advantage.

“Yup.” Sawyer motioned to the garage. “This is impressive.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d agreed to work here for the summer, but then the job itself hadn’t been the draw. Not for him.

War grinned, a toothy expression that cracked the hard lines of his cheeks and waffled between menacing and kind. “Ash is a fucking sadist . . . when it comes to safety and procedure.” The second part was added after a slight pause.

Grady snorted and Axel coughed into his fist before War’s glare shut them down. But Sawyer logged the info into his growing perception of this Ash guy.

“I’ll walk you through it so Ash doesn’t chew you out,” Grady assured him.

“Or ground you,” War added. “That really blows, because he usually assigns you days of cleaning, fixing, and cataloging all of the shit in here.”

Sawyer couldn’t stop his grin. “Sounds like the best form of punishment for breaking the rules.” Not the type he craved, but perfect for the grievance.

Axel’s brows winged up before his eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth, closed it. “Welcome to Kick,” he finally said. “Hopefully, I’ll see you around this summer.” He saluted them all and strode out of the garage, his boots clumping a steady beat.

“He’s headed to Bend,” Grady explained. “He’ll stay there for most of the summer.”

“And the three of us are booked at White Salmon tomorrow.” War’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, checking it.

“We need to head in,” Grady told War, motioning to the back of the garage. “Sawyer still needs to meet Ash and Rig.” War waved at them before refocusing on his phone. “The business offices are this way,” Grady said, heading down an aisle.

Sawyer followed him, absorbing the new information. He’d worked at a dozen different outfitters since he’d started guiding in his teens, and every one of them had their own rhythm and atmosphere to navigate. But all of them had that earthy laid-back sense that naturally paired with outdoor recreation. So far, he wasn’t feeling that here.

Kick’s professional reputation throughout the adventure community was top-notch. The owners knew their stuff and they’d earned every bit of the respect they were given in the relatively short number of years they’d been in business. The unfortunate death of one founder that spring and the near-fatal injury of the other had rippled through the newsgroups on a wave of shock and sadness. Death was a hazard and risk of their jobs that even the best weren’t excluded from.

Those depressing circumstances might have brought Sawyer here, but they’d had nothing to do with why he’d accepted the summer position when Grady had approached him. Not even slightly.

He’d agreed solely for the possibilities that came with working with a group of gay Doms. A rumor Kick didn’t advertise, but that still wound its way through the community.

“Wait here a second,” Grady said after they stepped through a back doorway into a more formal office area. He crossed the room and headed down a hallway before Sawyer could respond.

Unbothered, he leaned against a concrete pillar and studied the only other occupant of this area. The open blinds on the office window didn’t hinder his view, and his smile grew as he took in the sight. Neatly cut black hair, black framed glasses perched on a straight nose, model-worthy cheekbones and jawline etched in stone.

A gay yuppie’s wet dream.