The Creek (Briar County #3) Read Online Riley Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Briar County Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
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“Clint, you should have told me. I would have given you money, or we could have waited until I was able to buy everything for him. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “I know. I wanted to. Plus, this is just as fun for me as it will be for him. I’m impatient and didn’t want to wait.”

August was positive there wasn’t a better man in the world than Clinton Jones, and he was damn thankful to have him in his life again. “I’m paying you back.”

“If you insist.”

“This stuff is so badass!” Reese cut in. “I mean awesome,” he corrected himself as August shook his head at him.

Clint snickered. “You can fit in my things, August, and you need to put on a pair of everything too.” Clint pointed to a cabinet. “Even if you’re not welding, if you’re standing close, you need to be protected.”

“Yes, sir,” August replied.

He and Reese got dressed, and then Clint directed them over to where they would be working. August didn’t plan to do any himself, but he did want to watch.

He listened as Clint went over all the ways to keep safe and then all the equipment. He said they’d be using a stick welder, and things would start out slow. At first he just wanted Reese to learn how to tack two pieces together, and then they would work on a straight line.

“I’ll show you first.”

August took a few steps back, giving them space. Clint explained the welder and how to work it, Reese soaking up all of Clint’s knowledge.

“Helmet down. Here, let me help,” Clint told Reese, then fitted it on his head. Damned if that didn’t twist up August’s insides—watching the two of them together, his oldest friend and the most important person in his world. “You too, August.”

August wished he could be flirty and ask Clint if he could help him too.

Once August got his helmet in place, he watched as Clint told Reese what he would be doing and then demonstrated. He was so careful as he turned it off, explained how to work the welder again, then watched closely as Reese did as instructed.

“Holy crap, that’s cool!” Reese said when he finished. “I know I didn’t do much, but it’s still neat.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” Clint told him. “I learned when I was about your age. My dad taught me.”

“When I get a little better, do you think you can help me make something for Pop?” he asked, and August fought to tamp down his jealousy.

Clint’s gaze darted toward August, sympathy in his eyes. “Of course,” he told Reese. “Think about what he likes, and we can plan something.”

They all put their helmets back down, Clint and Reese continuing. They were at it for a good two hours. August watched them for a while, then went outside to check on the dogs.

He was with them when Clint and Reese came back out, his son with an ear-to-ear smile. “That was so cool, Dad! You should have Clint teach you too.”

“Maybe I will,” August replied.

“I might have to force ya if you don’t want to,” Clint teased, then added, “I didn’t think we’d still be at it so late. I still have to cook dinner.”

“I’ll help you.” August liked the idea of working in the kitchen with Clint. Hell, he just wanted to spend time with him. He didn’t much care what they were doing.

“I won’t argue with you.” Clint smiled.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to offer and help too? Because you can ask Dad, I’m not good in the kitchen,” Reese joked.

“No lies detected.” If something could be burned, Reese found a way to do it.

“You can supervise things,” Clint told him.

The three of them went into the house, washed their hands, and Clint pulled some chicken from the fridge. “I was planning homemade chicken strips with mashed potatoes and gravy. That work for you guys?”

“I can handle cutting potatoes. I’m not completely helpless,” Reese said playfully.

“You got yourself a deal.” Clint pointed to where they were, and August couldn’t help feeling proud of his son. It was a small thing, of course, but he appreciated that Reese offered to pitch in.

“I’ll help.” So August and Reese began peeling and chopping while Clint got out a colander for rinsing, filled a pot with water, and put oil in a skillet on the stove.

Once they were on and starting to boil, Reese took his place again at the bar—and August would not allow himself to think about what he’d done there.

A notepad and pen were sitting there, and Reese began to sketch, watching what he was doing as he asked Clint, “I know you said you’ve never been married, but did you want kids? Dad said him and Pop always did.”

“Reese,” August said.

“It’s fine,” Clint replied.


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