Older and Wilder: A Steamy Gay MM Romance (4 page)

              Jesse began working his way around the house, passing out of light spill from the back porch and into the darkness of the side yard.  He couldn’t let Derek crack and admit that none of it was real.  It had been his idea, but his father could be relentless when he went to work.  If Derek needed backup to hold his ground then Jesse wanted to be ready.  He stood in the shadows around the corner and listened as the older men talked.

              The whiskey seemed to have melted his father’s anger into confusion.  His oldest friend and his younger son just wasn’t a pairing Mike had ever considered.

              “What the hell are you doing, Derek? Jesse? Is he your midlife crisis?”

              “You want to talk midlife crisis let’s talk about your third child.  I figured the next baby in this house would be a grandchild.”

              For a few moments the only sound Jesse  heard was the chirp of crickets and the soft clink of ice against glass as the men sipped their whiskey.

              “Why Jesse?”

              “He’s the brave.  I admire that.  Knows who he is and what hat he wants, too.”

              “Jesse?”

              Derek’s tone was measured when he spoke.  “He went to art school in New York.  Most people around here think San Antonio is the big city, but he knew there's nothing for him here, so he took the leap.”

              “He made it a year and came home.”

              “He was strong enough to know it wasn’t right for him and do something about it.  How many people do we know who are still in the bad jobs or bad marriages they jumped into after high school because they’re too afraid to change?  Jesse gets an idea and he rides it out.  If it works then it works; he’s got a he lf full of County Fair ribbons to show for it.  If it flops then he  fixes it or moves on.”

              “He’s like you.”

              “Is that so bad?”

              “And when Jesse stops working for you?”

              “Then you’ll shoot me in the face,” Derek said dryly.  The splash of liquor pouring from the bottle to their glasses filled the pause in the conversation. “He’ll be done with me long before I’m done with him.” 

              “I still ought to shoot you, now.”

              “He’d only like me more.”

              Jesse’s breath raced as he listened to the men talk.  He’d known Derek had a reputation as a sweet talker but it hadn't seemed possible that his father would be one of the people Derek could charm, especially not tonight.  He was choosing his words perfectly.  Mike would have rather keep Jesse locked in a vault, but, since he’d learned that wasn’t an option, a man who kept his son on a pedestal might be a bearable alternative. 

              “He really going to Colorado with you?” Mike asked.

              “You know he does what he wants.  I’ll work like hell to make him happy if he does, but if he wants to be in Texas there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.”

              Jesse’s heart pounded in his chest.  Everyone kept mentioning Colorado, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Derek about it yet.  He had no idea what Derek's plans were there, and it would be hard to keep up the charade if he didn’t find out soon.

              “So you’re giving him until Friday to decide the rest of his life after nothing but a few sweet emails?”

              “He’s known me all his life and he’s heard the worst that can be said about me from my ex-wife.  He knows enough to decide if he wants to get in the truck.  If he gets there and hates it, I’ll buy him a ticket back to Texas.”

              Mike’s tone could have turned rain to snow even in the heat of late summer. “It’s too easy for you.”

              “It’s hard as hell for me.  He’s in charge.  All I’m doing is waiting to see how this comes out.  Friday we’ll all know.”

              “Only reason I’m not putting a bullet in you is because you’re miserable dangling on his hook and I’m enjoying watching you suffer.”

              “Glad to hear you're having fun.”

              Jesse’s heart pounded as the men lapsed into silence. If Derek was just putting on a show he was doing a great job it it.  He was supposed to be Mike's friend, not his son's pining lover, but he sounded so sincere. 

***

              Jesse slipped into his pajama pants then quickly decided to wear a t-shirt to bed as well tonight.  The air conditioner could barely keep up the fight against the heat, but he felt too exposed in his flimsy pants with their elastic waistband.   The irony didn't escape him.  Derek had already seen his as exposed as he could be.

              Derek walked into Jesse's bedroom, already dressed for bed.  It was going to be a long, impossible night.  Derek would be right beside him all night long, his solid, warm form tempting his body and threatening his heart. It was all just a show, Jesse reminded himself.  Don’t make it something it’s not. 

              Derek glanced around the room with a smile and Jesse tried to remember the last time he'd been in here.  A teenager's room was his private sanctuary if he was lucky, and Derek had respected that.  If he'd noticed the transition from blocks to books he hadn't commented on it, nor had he ever said anything about the lack of decoration.  There had never been much Jesse wanted to advertise about himself. 

              His mother had added a colorful quilt to the bed last year while Jesse was away at school.  He'd never thought much about it, but now the tiny scraps of floral fabric arranged to make even bigger flowers seemed a sharp contrast to Derek.  His short beard was too coarse for the soft lace that edged the sheets on the bed and the dark red pattern of the worn pajama pants hanging low on his hips stood out sharply against the beiges and blues that dominated the room.

              His face soft and tired, Derek closed the door and asked, “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?”

              Jesse tried to lighten the mood and forced a smile. “Can you behave if I let you sleep in my bed?”

              “Do you want me to?”

              The flush crept over Jesse's skin and he looked away then crawled into bed without answering.  Derek slipped under the covers next to him, as close to his edge of the bed as he could be without falling out. Snuffing the light didn’t make it easier to rest.

              Jesse tossed and turned, seeking a comfortable position, a cool spot in the bed, and the stilling of his mind, but sleep eluded him.  He turned over and then turned again, a full three sixty roll and heard a soft chuckle beside him.

              “What?” he  demanded.

              “You'll never get to sleep if you don’t stop moving.”

              Jesse concentrated on making his body still, inviting in sleep, but the minutes continued to stretch out ahead of him road trip down like a highway of wasted time and frustration.

              Derek rolled onto his side to face his, his face barely illuminated by moonlight that peeked through the curtains, and asked, “You need a back rub or something?”

              “Or something, I guess.  Answers.  What’s in Colorado?”

              “I’m buying a guest ranch.”

              “A what?’”

              “They used to call it a dude ranch.  Now it’s a guest ranch.  It’s a hotel with horses.  Take people out to play cowboy during the day and let them soak in the hot tub at night.”

              “So not at all like real cowboys?”

              “Not even a little bit.”

              “You’re done with the rodeo?”

              “I’m ready to have a home.  I still get to ride and be around people.  I think I can make a living doing this.”

              Jesse’s suspicious side kicked into high gear.  “If it makes money why are they selling?”

              “Owner died.  His son lives in Chicago and just wants it gone.  It earns enough to live on if you’re working it but not enough to pay someone else to do it.”

              “So what’s your plan?”

              “Do what your dad managed to do right out of high school.  Make a life.”

              “He had mom and a baby on the way.” 

              Jesse felt the slight vibration of the mattress beneath him as Derek chuckled.  “I didn't say it was his idea.  I said he did it.  Built a sustainable life. He wakes up in the morning and smiles.  I wake up in the morning and I all I feel is an ache in every bone I’ve ever broken, and I’ve broken most of them at least once.”

              “It’s too late to change that.”

              “It’s not too late to stop breaking them.  I’m going to learn to garden.”

              The laugh bubbled from within him, pushing its way past restraint and ignoring the late hour.  “Garden? You’re going to garden?”

              Derek huffed a quick, harsh laugh along with him.  “Probably not. I doubt I’ll ever learn the secrets of tomatoes.  But I could find someone who doesn't mind living with me who likes playing in the dirt.”

              The knot in Jesse's stomach, the one that had kept him up so long, twisted.  Derek was looking for someone, but it wasn’t him.  “I hope you find someone.”

              “You don’t like dirt?”

              “Not really.”

              “But you do it out here, keep the garden for your parents. You always have.” 

              “Someone has to.  Doesn’t mean I dream about it.”

              “I thought dirt was the kind of art you did, too.”

              “Clay.  I made pottery.”

              “That’s not dirt?”

              Jesse exhaled slowly through his nose.  The last thing he needed was another reason not to sleep.  “If you ask my professor it was.  I don’t mess with clay anymore.”

              “Your professor is an asshole,” he said authoritatively.  “That mug you made for me is still my favorite. The handle is the right size and I don’t have to keep getting up to fill it.  The colors remind me of a sunset in the mountains. Makes me smile just to see it.”

              “That’s not how you evaluate art.”

              “Maybe not in New York, but I’m from Texas.  It’s useful and it looks good.  I’ve had trucks I loved that were only one of the two.”

              “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

              “Then don’t.  Go to sleep, Jesse.  It’s going to be a long week if we don’t sleep for any of it.”

***

Chapter Two

              Rebecca practically bounced while serving breakfast, tossing out cheery bits of folk wisdom like “Work shared is work halved” before sending them out to handle the garden and the chickens.  Derek put on his best smile while Jesse kept his mouth full of toast and eggs to avoid having to talk.

              It was still early morning, but the sun already blazed overhead and the dew had long burned off.  It would be another scorcher and the only thing that kept Jesse motivated was the knowledge that it would get hotter as the day progressed.  Maybe he’d even be able to finish early and get in a nap this afternoon.  He certainly hadn’t gotten enough rest last night.  His mind kept revisiting the feeling of Derek’s hands on his in the barn and the way he’d protected him from his parents.  If Derek wasn’t leaving for Colorado Jesse might have tried for another encounter like the one in the barn, but the knowledge that he’d be gone soon made him cautious.  Once was a fantasy fulfilled.  Twice was asking for a heartbreak.  

              Derek made it through twenty minutes of weeding tomatoes before his good mood began to disintegrate.  “Since when are you this quiet?” he asked. “Have you just forgotten how to talk stranded out here in the sticks for so long?  You couldn’t stand the ranch when you were in high school and now that you’ve been out and seen the world, I just can’t see how you’re happy living like you took a vow of silence.”  He lifted his hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve, leaving a long streak of dirt across his forehead, before settling it back into place.

              “I couldn’t make it out there,” Jesse said quietly.

              “Jess, there’s a whole lot of out there you haven’t tried.”  He gave him a wink.  “Ever been to Colorado?”

              Jesse blushed and looked down at the plant between his knees then pulled a prickly bindweed stem from between the tomatoes and tossed it into the stack for the compost pile.  The race of his heart made him feel light-headed, the way he always had around Derek.  His crush on the cowboy had been bad before and mind-blowing time in the barn certainly hadn’t done anything to ease the yearning.  He reminded himself again that Derej was leaving.  He’d always been friendly, always looked out for Jesse, and encouraging his not to waste his life in his parents’ garden was something a friend would do.  If he’d been interested in his for more than blowing off some steam he would have made better use of his bed last night, but Derek hadn’t laid a hand on him.

              They worked until lunchtime before taking a break to pick vegetables straight off the plants, swish them in a bucket of water to knock off the soil, and eat them raw. Jesse had gotten used to this sort of meal since he’d moved back home, plunking down in the dirt so he could skip a trip to the house and his mother’s insistence that he wash up for lunch as well as if he was getting ready for church.

              Derek’s encouragement to adventure was even worse.  All morning he’d looked like he'd been fighting back the urge to scold Jesse for even being here and every time Derek did let himself say something about Jesse's future it had seemed like come ons and reminded him of the lines guys in New York used when they thought Jesse could give them a quick taste of Texas.  He'd turned most of them down and been disappointed by the rest.  Images of Derek in the barn flashed in his mind whenever Jesse looked at him, and Jesse's eyes wandered the pattern of Derek's soft cotton shirt as he mentally mapped the scars and muscles it hid.  He lingered on Derek's arms picturing the graduated lines of his tan on his biceps, different shirts having left different marks and the sharper transition from light to dark around his collar.  Derek may have abused his body riding horses and bulls over the years, but the lean lines of muscle and the way he’d touched him yesterday proved he’d learned to use it well too.

              After lunch they moved on to cleaning out the chicken coop.  It was one of his least favorite tasks.  The small space was hot, musty and difficult to maneuver inside, but doing it with Derek was almost fun. Derek taught him to curse in German, explaining that a European stock manager had been on the rodeo circuit for a while with him and they’d determined that you could say anything you liked in front of anyone you liked as long as it sounded sophisticated.  Too many people knew Spanish to slip in curses in similar languages like French and Portuguese, but in German he could say just about anything as long as he avoided the better known words.

              “Didn’t you ever get caught?”

              “Half the time I was making it up and tossing in the few words I did know.  I doubt a real German could have understood me, but it made me feel better and I didn’t offend anyone. Probably.”

              Jesse laughed and pulled a stuck feather off of his rake and then headed into the barn, stopping by the tool room on the way in to put away their equipment.  As Derek handed over the work gloves he’d borrowed his fingers brushed his and Jesse felt that shock of contact again.  Here they were, back in the barn, and there Derek was, leaning in the doorway like he owned the place and looking at his like he wanted to devour him.  Maybe after so many years with the rodeo barns made him horny.  It couldn’t be him, Jesse reminded himself.  Derek had been a gentleman last night. 

              “You’ve got a little hay in your hair again,” Derek said.

              “Let’s go wash up.”  Jesse moved quickly to the spigot outside the back door of the barn and turned on the water and began washing his hands with the soap in the bucket nailed to the barn wall before Derek caught up with him and ran a hand through Jesse's hair to knock free the wayward dried stalk.

              “Your mother said they were going over to the feed store after lunch. Truck’s gone.”

              Jesse let his words sink in.  It was just the two of them, all alone, just like yesterday.  That still didn’t mean sleeping with Derek again would be a good idea.  Derek was leaving.  Just because they were putting on a show for Jesse's parents that didn't mean dabbling in method acting was a good idea.

              Still, watching Derek strip off his shirt and wipe himself down with a rag he'd taken from the tack room put a hitch in his breath. Derek was shameless, catching his eye and watching Jesse watching him. With a sly smile he invited him to join in, offering to scrub his back if he ’d take off his shirt and Jesse briefly let himself consider what would almost certainly come next:  Derek laid out on the clover beside the red barn wall, both of them naked and streaked with mud, skin sliding on skin in the bright light of the sun. 

              It was no small effort to decline his invitation, but he’d been caught once already this week. He never should have touched Derek in the first place, and giving in to temptation again wouldn’t do anything good for his mental state.  If Derek was interested in anything more than dirty, public sex he could have had Jesse last night in bed.

              “We shouldn’t,” Jesse said.

              “If that’s what you want.”  Derek tugged his shirt back on, the fabric sticking to his damp arms as they slid into the sleeves.  “What’s your mom have us doing this afternoon?”

              “She said she’d leave a list.”

              They crossed the yard back to the house and Jesse fought the urge to hold his hand as they walked.  Derek wasn’t his boyfriend.  This wasn’t a romance.  His mother, however, didn’t know that.  Item one on the chore list: watch recorded program on Colorado.

              “I can’t believe his,” Jesse stormed.

              “I can’t believe you’re surprised.”  Derek dropped to a seat on the couch, the old springs squeaking as he landed and patted a seat beside him.  “Come sit with me.  Let her see you happy and thinking things through when she gets home.  That’s all she wants for you.”

              “You want to snuggle on the couch and watch DVR’d educational television?”             

              “I can think of worse ways to spend time.”

              “I can think of better ones,” Jesse growled.

              “I offered.  You said no.”

              The program was as dull as expected, slow steady pans across mountains covered in trees or snow accompanied by the drone of the announcer.  When Derek fell asleep Jesse nudged him so he laid down, then lifted his legs onto the couch, and stretched out beside him, telling himself that since they were already sharing a bed at night this couldn’t make things worse.  He was wrong.  This was a different, more dangerous kind of mistake.

              Having Derek a few inches away in his bed had been a long, slow torment, denying him the sleep he needed and making him crave the sensual caresses he’d decided he wouldn’t feel again.  This touch, casual and lazy, was intimate in a different way.  The images on screen slid from green plateaus to brown, rocky slopes covered in scrub brush while Jesse relaxed, his own breaths deepening to match the steady rise and fall of Derek’s chest at his back.  Consciousness slid away as he drifted into dreams of Colorado and Derek. 

***

              The screen porch door banged shut behind Rebecca and Mike, waking Jesse and Derek from their long nap on the couch.  The room was only dimly lit with the fading light of the sunset, and they stretched without getting up, bodies pressing into each other with the lazy intimacy of people people still half asleep and reluctant to move into full consciousness.  As they watched their son and their oldest friend rouse and tangle up in each other, Rebecca and Mike had a conversation of glances and grunts with Rebecca stuck in the role of the calm one while Mike banished the nappers to different showers with orders to stop sweating and stinking on his furniture. He let the porch door slam behind him again as he stormed out. 

***