Safe in His Arms

Readers love

The Shearing Gun

by
RENAE
KAYE

“This third book by Renae Kaye is her best work so far and goes to show that she isn’t limited to a ‘type’ when it comes to characters or plot as all three books are very different from each other. I absolutely recommend you read this, I’ll yell it if necessary – READ THIS!”

—Love Bytes

“I love Kaye’s work. Her writing is always consistent, with prose that flows well and draws you right in. I will never forget Jay from Loving Jay, Kaye’s first novel. But
The Shearing Gun
is my favorite of Kaye’s books thus far.”

—My Fiction Nook

“Overall I just loved this one. The setting is wonderful and so fabulously incorporated into the book. The heroes are lovely and so great together. The story is really fascinating and I loved watching the growth of both these men and their relationship. So a big hit for me from an author I am really enjoying immensely. Definitely recommended.”

—Joyfully Jay

“This is an incredibly endearing tale about Hank, Quackle, preconceptions, sheep, and farming. It is also about learning to appreciate who you are and your place in the world. Combined with this love story is a story of ‘coming out’ and what that means to your life, but more importantly it is about allowing friends to really know you and then make their own judgments. It gently tells us not to take away the opportunity for people to choose well.”

—Prism Book Alliance

By
RENAE
KAYE

The Blinding Light

Loving Jay

Safe in His Arms

The Shearing Gun

A Taste of Honey (Dreamspinner Anthology)

Published by
DREAMSPINNER
PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

DREAMSPINNER
PRESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886  USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Safe in His Arms

© 2014 Renae Kaye.

Cover Art

© 2014 Anna Sikorska.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-63216-230-4

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-231-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014947600

First Edition November 2014

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

For B3. Thanks for the safety of your arms, which gave me room to fly.

Acknowledgments

With thanks to the other Renae for her legal help.

Chapter 1

L
ON
STEPPED
under the streaming hot water and sighed as what seemed to be a month’s worth of red dust and a layer of mud washed away down the drain. With languid movements he soaped his large, hairy body and watched as the water ran from a reddish brown to an opaque white. He scrubbed and washed all the little nooks and crannies where that fucking Pilbara dust would get to and anticipated the softness of his bed.

Mining in the Pilbara region of Western Australia meant long hours in the worst fucking conditions you could imagine—searing heat, insects attacking you, boring, repetitive work, and a general lack of comfort—for an absolute fortune in salary. Men (and the few women brave and stupid enough) worked twelve-hour shifts, seven days a week. Lon was part of the large FIFO crowd—fly-in, fly-out. The mining companies flew planeloads of employees up to the mines for their shifts, accommodated them for the duration in tiny rooms called
dongas
, then flew them home again. Lon was on a four-on-two-off rotation, which equated to twenty-eight days of twelve-hour shifts without a break, then a turnaround of fourteen days to sit on his arse and do nothing while twiddling his thumbs, just waiting for the day he flew back again.

At least the weather was better in Perth than in Newman, where the mine was.

And it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him. Lon had no family to meet him each time he landed at the airport. No wife, no kids—no boyfriend. He wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend waiting for him, but that thought soon morphed into the thought of what would a boyfriend of his look like? Lon took them any way they came—big, small, needy, greedy, hairy, smooth, old, young, masculine, feminine. You name it, he’d done it. All they really needed was…. Well, you know.

He rinsed his hair and scrubbed at his full beard. Shaving was a waste of time at the mines, so he grew one out every rotation. The next step in his cleansing routine was to step up to the mirrors and trim his beard down, then shave everything but a short goatee so that he wouldn’t scare the little old ladies who lived in the van next to him.

The water was still running hot, and Lon considered taking care of the erection that had sprung to full tilt while he was showering. He fingered his heavy sack but sighed and turned off the water instead. If he came while he was in the shower, he was liable to fall asleep, and that would cause a large problem. Trying to carry his muscular frame out of the small cubicle of a caravan park shower would require some beefy-fireman help. On second thought….

He grinned to himself as he toweled off. His erection wasn’t going anywhere soon, and any guy who was in the shower rooms at this time of night would just have to put up with the sight of his large cock saying hello. It was late—his flight was delayed and didn’t land at Perth Airport until after 10:30 p.m. Most of the caravanning and camping community had retired for the night, since the grounds had a noise rule that kicked in at ten o’clock.

Lon opened the door and stepped out to the basins, naked and unashamed. He was big all over—from his height to his chest to his cock. Mama made this boy extra-large. His chest was wide and shaped from the days he spent in the gym while on downtime. It matched the impressive girth of his muscled thighs. He was covered with a healthy pelt that had some men drooling and wanting him to be their leather daddy. He just shook his head at them. He didn’t do that sort of shit. If you wanted someone to boss you around and tell you what to do, then go visit your parents.

He started for half a second as he registered a second body in the shower rooms. A light-haired, lanky lad was leaning against the far basin, staring intently at himself in the mirror. They made eye contact with each other for a moment through the reflecting surface before Lon saw the guy’s eyes drop to check out what Lon usually kept covered. Bright blue eyes widened—either in appreciation or fear—and a cute mouth fell open as the guy stared at Lon’s gear.

Lon had no time for polite modesty. He was tired, exhausted, and nearly completely clean. He threw his dirty mining uniform on the ground, slung his wet towel over his shoulder, and dumped his bag full of toiletries on the shelf above the basin. He needed to shave. Then he would throw the towel around his waist and walk the three vans to his home. He reckoned it was about four steps to his bed once in his van, and it would take less than two minutes to be asleep. None of that required clothing.