Wanting_Him__The_Starr_Brothers_-_Terry_Cross.pdf

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Wanting Him (The Starr Brothers, Book One)
By Terry Cross
COPYRIGHT 2017 Terry Cross, all rights reserved.
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Jay
"Nerd alert! I repeat, nerd alert!" Zeke says as he elbows me in the arm. I shoot him a dirty look;
he should know better by now than to risk pissing off a customer like this. I need all the customers I can
get. Then again, the only things Zeke cares about are catching his next wave and motor boating some
brainless blonde in the back of his orange VW van.
I shake my head and adjust the pencil in my ear that's about to slip out. I haven't been myself lately,
not even close. My store, our family business, is all I've got left after the criminal charges I'm facing. I
can't afford to jeopardize the store, or myself right now. I've never exactly been, shall I say, the sensitive
type, but lately, I've been too stern even for me.
Feeling responsible for the deaths of innocent human beings will do that to a man. I haven't slept
for more than four hours straight since the hit-and-run, and I don't see any light at the end of this tunnel.
"Don't be an asshole, Zeke. I can replace you in about 30 seconds with some other college
dropout."
"Whatevs, boss. I can't be a dropout if I never even started bro!" he says.
I roll my eyes. "You're a pain in my ass. You know that?" I say.
Zeke's just a kid, twenty years old at most. His long, shaggy hair, frumpy ripped jeans, and
permanent carefree smirk are all clear evidence to sugfgest that he has no clue what the real world has in
store for him. This kid may not know his ass from his elbow, but he's a nice kid nonetheless. I'm just not in
the mood for this kind of shit right now.
The bell rings that signals a customer just walked through my door. I've got my head buried in
spreadsheets at the moment, trying to make sure that this place is bringing in more money then it's putting
out right now. I hear a deep, male voice whistling like he's the happiest motherfucker on the planet. Maybe
Zeke is right; maybe some geeky asshole did just walk into my store. At least, that's what I thought until I
look up and see it's a medium-built man in a dark blue, well-fitted suit who looks about as far from nerdy
as any man could look. It doesn't hurt his overall look that he also has dark, wavy hair and sun-kissed skin
that reeks of money and strong quarterly earnings.
The man heads right to my stone veneer display. Zeke winks at me and comes out from behind the
desk like he's actually interested in trying to help this customer. I shake my head, put the suit out of my
mind, and get back to my monstrous task of trying to balance my store budget.
Good, I tell myself. Better off not to even look at other men that good looking.
I'm not in the business of getting burned anymore. If relationships could actually leave scars, I'd be
covered in third-degree burns by now. To make matters worse, my brothers Shane and Colby haven't
spoken to me in about a year now. I have a meeting with my new attorney tomorrow morning, and I'm
hoping I can start to turn my life around, as long as I stay focused. And by focus, I mean doing my job here
at the stone yard, staying out of other boy's pants, and putting my energy into positive endeavors.
"Yo, boss! This ones above my pay grade, bro! A little help would be sweet!" I hear Zeke call out
to me.
Oh, fuck. I just wish one of my fucking employees could handle something, anything, on their own.
It's bad enough I have to go out and do all of the estimating myself for every job, all I ask for is that these
kids can handle some of the simpler shit in the store and do some of the core labor on the job sites. Why
do I feel so much older at age twenty-six even though most of these guys are only a few years younger than
me? Must be my upbringing. My brothers and I were raised tough; my father didn't stand for any whining
or bullshit excuses. We were told to get it done, and get it done fast and right. And for the most part, the
Starr brothers have had a decent streak going.
Then again, I haven't talked to my brothers in a long time, so I can't say I know how they're doing
lately. Does it hurt? Fuck yes, it hurts. They're my brothers. But we had a falling out, and not a one of us is
known precisely for being over-communicative and open-minded. Hell, I don't even know who's right or
wrong anymore. At the time, I was sure I was right, but now, I'm lucky if I can get up in the morning, make
sense of what happened between my brothers and me.
I grunt and groan to myself as I walk out from behind the counter and head over to the customer.
Zeke winks as he walks past me. That son of a bitch could care less whether or not he loses his job. I
wish I could be so carefree like that, even if it were only for an hour. But then again, he's just a stupid kid.
It's easy to be carefree when you're 20, and you've never held someone in your arms and watched them
take their last breath. It's easy when you're that young, and you think that life is so long.
"How can I help you, sir?" I say to the man from behind. He turns to face me, and I feel the head of
my cock twitch slightly. See, this is exactly what I don't want to deal with right now - these types of
feelings. He flashes a broad smile, showing off a perfect set of straight, white teeth. I swear to God, he
acts like he's the happiest motherfucker I've ever seen come in the store. I can't tell if I want to slap him or
slip my tongue in his mouth.
"Hi, I'm Pierce." He reaches out to shake my hand, unbeknownst to myself as to why. Is this guy
running for president or something? Jesus buddy, calm the fuck down with the smile. Do I sound bitter?
How can I not, after everything that's happened to me lately.
I look at his hand and hesitate for a moment, then remember my business maxim. Customers first, I
tell myself.
I shake his hand back, only to be taken aback from how firm his shake is. His hands are large,
almost the same size as mine from what I can tell; only they're way smoother. The softness of his skin
versus mine makes sense makes given the suit he's wearing. I look more carefully into his baby blue eyes
and see a confident glimmer that tells me this man's upbeat demeanor should never be mistaken for him
being an idiot.
"I'm Jay, how can I help you today sir?"
The customer turns to face the sample of stone veneer. I fight back the urge to look at his ass as I
stand behind him. I have been pretty lucky up until this point from the moment he walked in the store not to
get caught checking him out. And that's saying a lot for a guy like me.
"I have this really old fireplace in my condo and I want to make it look a little less like it was
built the same year World War II started. Can you help me?" he asks.
"I'm sure we can help, but we would probably need to send a guy out to your place to make sure
our materials are a good match for your situation. It helps to know how much space are working with, and
what type of stone would work best with your fireplace."
He carefully studies the various samples of different stones that I showcase. I don't carry the cheap
stuff; once we apply this stone, it doesn't come off, unless you take a sledgehammer and pound it off.
Refinishing fireplaces is one of my biggest money-makers, and it's not that hard; it's basically just a matter
of cutting out the stones so they fit within the right dimensions and gluing them with mortar onto the old
surface. Customers are always really happy when we're done. And the best part is, even my least skilled
guys can do a decent good job refacing fireplaces.
He runs his long finger along one of the light gray samples- our Earth Tone collection. "Do you
have these in stock?" he asks.
"That's one of our biggest sellers right now. We can get that for you today if you have a builder
ready to go."
He bites down softly on his lower lip as he thinks for a split second. "I don't have someone to do
the work. Can you recommend anyone?"
I smile. "Actually, we're a one-stop shop. We do everything from design to complete install."
"We?" he asks, glancing down at my chest for a split second. My cock pulses, again, in my pants.
And I'm not happy about that.
I shrug my shoulders and try to appear unphased by his glance. "We have lots of guys who do a
really nice job with this sort of thing."
The Ben Affleck lookalike in the suit scrunches his nose and looks up at the ceiling as if he's trying
to digest Einstein's theory of relativity. "Any idea how long it takes to do a job like this?" he asks.
These days, I'd have already run out of patience with this many questions, but this man is such a
sight for sore eyes I don't so much mind his questioning. "Like I said, buddy, we really have to see the job
first. We have to know what kind of condition the pre-existing surface is in, what kind of stone you pick,
what type of surface your fireplace adjoins, etc. I can get your name and number and set up a time to have
one of my guys swing by and give you an estimate if that's what you'd like," I say.
Pierce runs his fingers along one of the pieces of stone again. He has long, thin fingers, at least,
compared to mine. This guy doesn't look like he's much of a power lifter, but he looks fit at the same time,
if that makes sense. His suit fits perfectly around his shoulders, and as he reaches out to touch one of the
higher up stone samples, the fabric of his suit pants hugs his ass ever so tightly. My dick starts to grow
slightly in my pants; I have no choice but to make myself look away from his ass as fast as I can.
"Sure, why don't we start there. It's getting to the point where I'll never be able to sell this place if
I don't do something about this fireplace," he says with a smile.
I smile back at him, showing him that I too have a nice set of teeth and a decent pair of lips.
"Great, Zeke can get down your name and number and will get back to you as soon as we know when we
can send someone out."
Pierce, I say his name to myself. With a name like that, you're pretty much bound to wear an
expensive suit for the rest of your life. He's the kind of man that reeks of sophistication and class, not
exactly my usual type. But something about the smooth clean sheen of his skin, and that little smile that
never seems to leave his face gets me going. For fuck's sake, the man even came into the store whistling.
Who the hell is that happy these days? Don't get me wrong, I could use an extra dose of happiness. My
plate has been more than full dealing with the accusations that I somehow should be held accountable for
the hit-and-run.
I feel bad as fuck inside about what happened, and in a weird way, even though my keys were
stolen from me without my knowledge, I do feel partly responsible. It was my party that night, and I knew
I should've known to keep the keys away from Brandon.
But I didn't. And there's nothing I can do to change that now. Believe me, if there were something I
could do I would do it in a heartbeat. All I can do now is try to clear my involvement in this incident as
best I can. Luckily, I plan to do just that tomorrow morning when I meet my new attorney.
I look over and see Pierce leaning over the counter as he talks to Zeke to try to make arrangements
for an appointment. Zeke looks bored as hell, and it pisses me off every time he checks his phone while
he's with a customer. I guess he's no different than all the other kids his age who come and go from the
store. Still, though, if a customer comes in here to buy something from my store, I see it as my duty to give
them the best service I can.
What a hypocrite, I tell myself. Here I am talking about customer service, and all I can do is feel
my cock grow harder as I watch Pierce bend over the counter in his tight-fitting suit pants. Holy fuck,
what I would give to pull those pants down and grab a handful of that ass. Then I would peel his cheeks
wide open, and fill him up with everything I've got. He would scream so hard that all of his buddies
sitting in all of their dumb cubicles would hear him from miles away.
I shake my head, trying to get myself together here. My cock is starting to ache really badly out of
nowhere, and I can't deal with an aching cock. That's exactly why I try so hard not to let my thoughts go to
places like that. I have enough aches already; I don't need one in my cock too.
Zeke casually flips his hair around like he just rode a pipeline at the beach. He waves his hand for
me to come over and help with Pierce. I walk over, and Zeke is holding our schedule book.
"Hey boss, we're booked solid for at least another week and a half. He's hoping to get someone
out sooner; he says he's got to get this job done ASAP."
I find myself wondering what the big hurry is for this guy. Then I find myself wondering what the
fuck I'm doing thinking about this guy's personal life like this.
I look in the schedule book, figuring the Zeke's made yet another one of his stoner mistakes. Hell,
it's not like I don't want to have a bit more gifted staff here but beggars can't be choosers right now. I can't
afford to pay more than minimum wage, so I'm kind of stuck trying to staff my business with guys of Zeke's
caliber. I look down and see that he's right. I look up at the customer, Pierce. He's still smiling from ear to
ear. You can't seriously be this happy, I think to myself again. You just can't.
"I'm sorry sir, but the soonest I can get any of my guys out to your place will be ten days from
now," I say.
Pierce, my new favorite customer, presses lips together as he thinks through my decision as if
somehow he's going to influence the outcome. The edges of his eyes soften like butter left out on the deck
on a warm summer day. "How about you? Can you come out and do the estimate yourself?" he asks.
For some strange reason, I find myself feeling a bit unsettled in my stomach. Not like I just ate a
pound of fried dough at some local carnival, but more like nerves. I tune my anxiety out and say, "I… I
guess so," I mumble. What the fuck? Why am I mumbling to this guy? Just because he's wearing a suit?
Just because he looks highly educated?
I look over at Zeke who's basically cross-eyed at this point. He's thoroughly enjoying this
interaction, for whatever reason. There's no way he could know how sexy I think this customer is, and yet
he seems to sense something. Zeke has never seen me stumble over my words; none of my employees
have.
I stand up straighter and notice that I'm a good eight inches taller than this man. He's got to be five
foot ten tops. Judging by the suit, and by general statistics, I would bet my life that this man's not gay.
But that doesn't mean I can't entertain the idea of tossing him around like a ragdoll underneath the
sheets.
"Awesome, because I can't afford to delay this."
Whatever, if he's in that much of a hurry then I don't mind accommodating him. As I mentioned, I
can't afford to lose any business right now. "Just leave your address with Zeke here and I can get out to
see the project some time on Tuesday," I say.
Pierce's eyes narrow subtly. "I was thinking more like tomorrow afternoon. I can be at my home by
two or two thirty if that works."
He's a demanding fucker. That's either because he thinks he's more important than me, or he really
is in a major rush for whatever reason.
Apart from me, Zeke's the only one on shift tomorrow afternoon. I look over at Zeke and snap my

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