The Stolen Suitor (14 page)

Jeremy, in fact, wasn’t sure he’d ever belonged anywhere, unless it was in his stories, or perhaps with Chris when they’d kissed. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere or anyone else at that moment. “I guess I know what you mean.”

Eric shrugged. “Well that’s the way I feel at Big Basin. Hey, wanna bet twenty bucks I can lasso that statue again in three tries?”

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, because I’ve got nothing better to do with twenty dollars.”

“Live a little, Bro! You could double your money.”

“Or lose it.” Jeremy waved him off with a yawn. “Nope. I’m going back to bed.”

Wise decision, because before Jeremy even got back into the house, Eric’s whoop of victory rose up again.

JEREMY
went into the Merc at 12:30 p.m., a half hour before his shift began at Nora’s. It had been four whole days since that kiss on Sunday morning, and Jeremy could hardly think straight. He felt like a fifteen-year-old again, so flushed with hormones and purely physical raging need, he was a walking inappropriate boner. Maybe Chris wanted him just as bad. Or a little. He’d settle for a little. And Chris
had
come into the diner with his dad the day before, so….

Chris was up front ringing out a customer when Jeremy walked in.

Jeremy felt himself start to get aroused just from
seeing
Chris. He headed for the aisles, trying to play it cool. He dallied in the medicine aisle until he heard the customers leave. He picked up a bottle of Bayer aspirin, intending to take it to the register, but when he turned, Chris was right there.

“Oh! Hey,” Jeremy said, startled.

“Hey.”

Oh, the literacy of their courtship. Seriously.

Chris smiled at him, and the look in his eyes just about caused Jeremy’s jeans to spontaneously combust.
Gah
. Forget literacy, his tongue forgot how to speak at all, and he was reduced to staring, fixed like a statue, maybe one entitled “Awkward Lust.”

One corner of Chris’s lips tugged up, smug bastard. “How late do you work tonight? I was thinking we could go fishing later, if it’s still light.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I mean—I get off at eight.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and let his eyes fall to Jeremy’s lips. “Pretty sure of yourself.”

Ha, ha, ha. Oh fucking hell.

A guy with a quick wit, and some modicum of experience, would have bantered back teasingly. Gary Prince would have. But Jeremy was five foot eleven of virginal, throbbing need, and he just couldn’t summon his sense of humor forth through the haze.

He looked around and, confirming they were alone, he put his palm on Chris’s stomach. He just laid it there, over his shirt, somewhere in the vicinity of his belly button and above his belt. He wanted to touch
something
, and that was the closest place to do it without groping genitals in public.

Chris’s eyes darkened and he stopped smiling. He spoke low. “Damn. I’d take you back in the office right now if I could.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said instantly.

“No, I can’t. It’s my dad’s office too, and he’s been hanging around more.” He grabbed Jeremy’s hand and squeezed it. “Tonight? Eight o’clock? Wanna meet me here and I can drive?”

“Sure.” Jeremy loved the feel of Chris’s hand in his, dry and warm and oh so promising. It made him want to touch everything else even more, Chris’s stomach again and anything else he could reach.

Maybe he was supposed to leave at that point, but he just stood there.

Chris smiled and released his hand. “You’re cute,” he said with a wink. He reached out and tucked a strand of Jeremy’s hair behind his ears, his fingers skimming the sensitive shell.

At which point Jeremy turned around and left the Merc before he did something he’d regret, like push Chris Ramsey to the ground and rip off his clothes in the pain-relief and adult-diaper aisle of the Clyde’s Corner Mercantile.

ON
Thursdays, Trix had lunch at Nora’s diner with her parents and Janie. Her parents were still ranching, and between their chores and hers, they didn’t get together for very long. But Trix’s mother had made sure they saw each other at least once a week since John died.

“Gonna have three hundred head this year,” her father told her with a grunt of satisfaction. “All free range and grass fed ’til the very end. We’re lookin’ into that there Certified Humane Certificate. You get that, ’n’ you can double the price per pound.”

“That’s wonderful, Dad. It’s a good thing anyway, you know?”

“Well, we always did the best we could in that department. But someone wants to pay me more to do it their way, ’n’ it’s better for the animals, I’m all for it,” her father agreed.

He was an old-time cattle rancher of a breed they didn’t make anymore, tough and hardworking. Trix had loved growing up on a ranch, but it was the horses that had always fascinated her. And while she was no vegetarian, she liked the fact that breeding and boarding horses didn’t require anything but love, a strong back, and consistency. She didn’t have the thick skin required for raising meat animals. Neither had John, really. That’s why they’d sold off the cattle when they’d taken over Big Basin.

“Did you talk to the school about gettin’ Janie into kindergarten this September?” her mother asked. “She’ll be five in November.”

Trix grimaced and reached a hand out to touch her daughter’s hair. Janie was completely absorbed with a toy horse her folks had given her, bending its articulated joints into various poses. They spoiled Janie rotten, and that was a good thing.

“Mom, I told you, they said it’s up to us. I think she could use another year at home after… everythin’ that’s happened.”

“Do you wanna keep her home for Janie’s sake or for yourself?” her mother asked, not unkindly. “She’s so bright, honey. I’d think she’d love the extra stimulation of school! You don’t want her to fall behind.”

“Hard to raise a child on your own and run a ranch too,” her dad added. As if she didn’t know that as well as anyone on earth.

“How are you gettin’ on with Chris?” her mother asked on cue.

“Things are fine with Chris. Just fine.” She toyed with her salad and gave her mother a firm look. “But I’m takin’ it slow. That’s the best I can do right now, and he understands that.”

Her mother reached over to pat her hand. “Don’t let anyone rush you. You’re gonna be fine.”

Was she? What did that even mean? What was the definition of “fine?” Not committing suicide? Being able to smile again and mean it?

“Thanks, Mom,” Trix said.

“Just a thought: sometimes if you bank embers for too long, they go out on ya,” her mother said wisely.

“That’s right, sweet pea,” her dad agreed. “No man’ll wait forever.”

Trix knew they were just worried about her, and her dad just wanted to know she had a man in her life “taking care of her.” But it was still annoying. John hadn’t been gone that long. Why did everyone expect her to move on?

“Janie, do you want to run to the little girl’s room with Mommy?” Trix asked.

“Don’t have to go potty,” Janie pranced her horse along the edge of the table, her little tongue sticking out in concentration.

“All right. Stay here with Granny and Gramps, then. I’ll be right back.” She gave her parents a tight smile and slipped out of the booth.

In the restroom, Trix sat in a stall, head in her hands. At least Nora kept the place fresh, with some kind of lemon cleaner and an open window up high. She’d sat like this far too many times since John died, hiding away in the bathroom from razor-sharp smiles and grievous good intentions. She wondered if there’d come a day when she’d realize she no longer had the urge to escape, even momentarily.

She was about to blow her nose and go back to the table when the bathroom door opened and two women walked in.

“Did you see Trix Stubben is here with her folks?” one woman asked casually.

“I did. She’s lookin’ well, bless her heart.”

“Supposedly, she and Chris Ramsey are headin’ for the altar.”

The speaker entered the stall to her right. Trix tucked her shoes back, not wanting them to realize it was her. How embarrassing.

The pipes whined as the other woman started the tap. “I wouldn’t bet money on it,” the hand-washer said with a cattiness to her tone.

“Why not?” asked the other.

“Because Eric Crassen has up and gotten himself a job at Big Basin. That boy’ll turn her head, mark my words!”

“No!” The other woman sounded both horrified and titillated. “Trix is smarter than that! Why would she give up a good boy like Chris Ramsey for someone like Eric Crassen?”

“Women have done stupider things for men far less good-lookin’ than Eric.” The woman’s voice was smug. “And you remember Mabe had her eye on Billy Stubben and Big Basin way back when? Maybe she still has her sights on bettering them Crassens. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Eric gets Trix to marry up with him. Don’t forget, I said it first.”

The door opened in the stall next door and the sink ran again. “I do hope you’re wrong. I can’t see that endin’ well.” The woman tutted.

“It never does.”

The pair left the bathroom.

Trix had the strongest urge to laugh. She giggled in a sad little way as she left the stall and washed her face. She looked at herself in the mirror.

The gossips in this town! Seriously! They’d have her pregnant and engaged to the town minister next. Or spending her nights hooking up with strangers in Butte.

She tittered at her reflection, but the laugh slowly died and the heavy feeling in her chest returned.

Stupid gossip. Eric had needed a job, that was all. He hadn’t started working at Big Basin out of any desire to seduce her. Besides, she was still grieving. She could hardly feel anything for Chris, much less anyone else.

As for Eric and Mabe Crassen being after the ranch itself… that was ridiculous, surely.

With a resolute nod, she wiped her face and left the restroom.

THE
sunset was due at 8:58 p.m. according to the Internet. That was perfect as far as Chris was concerned. It gave him and Jeremy just enough time to get to the river and settle in before dusk hid them from any possible witnesses.

God will know. And so will you
.

Yes, he’d know. He still felt a little guilty about doing this, but he was going to anyway. He didn’t seem to have it in him to stay away from Jeremy. Not for his own sake, and definitely not for Jeremy’s when he looked at Chris the way he did, all longing and heady need. Chris remembered what it had been like growing up in Clyde’s Corner, dreaming about being with a man. He hadn’t been able to act on that himself until college.

Also, after his talk with Trix, Chris wasn’t feeling as confident about them as he’d once been. It was like someone had turned on a light, and he wasn’t sure he liked what it revealed. He’d made a conscious decision that he was going to go ahead and explore these feelings with Jeremy. If he was supposed to be with Trix, that would be clear once he’d gotten this out of his system. And if he wasn’t supposed to be… well, maybe that would become obvious too.

He put a couple of clean camping blankets, a six-pack of beer, and a few snacks, in case Jeremy was hungry, in the back of his Jeep. He put condoms and lube in there too.

He was excited and nervous, more than he could find any reason for. True, he hadn’t been with a man in nearly a year, but back in the day, he’d had plenty of experience with hook-ups. Jeremy, though, was different. Chris had never felt so strongly attracted to a person before, and Jeremy…. That simple gesture of laying his palm on Chris’s stomach…. Damn. That had nearly killed Chris right there.

“What’s the matter with you?” his dad asked as Chris fumbled the paper towels he was stacking.

“Nothing.”

His dad paused in his hobble down the aisle and looked Chris up and down. He’d showered and primped, and it had to be obvious. “You seein’ Trix tonight?”

“Not tonight, no,” Chris said carefully.

His father looked over the work Chris was doing. “I put the Bounty on the top shelf because the cheaper brand goes faster and it should be easier for people to reach.”

“If the Bounty was easier to reach, people might buy it instead, and then we’d earn a little more.”

His father frowned at him, obviously debating whether or not he should or would argue about it. “Put the Bounty on the top shelf please,” he repeated before walking away, shaking his head.

Chris put the Bounty on the top shelf, annoyed. He kept telling his dad to rest, but he said he got bored sitting around, so he was hobbling around the store, more and more underfoot. He needed to talk to his father about retiring. But then, things with Trix were still so vague. Would he end up running the Merc or not?

Trix. And Jeremy.
He reminded himself. His stomach plunged and twisted. If it had been a diver, that move would be worthy of Olympic gold.

He looked at his watch. Just two more hours to go.

JEREMY
showed up at the Merc a few minutes past eight o’clock.

It was already closed, so Chris was hanging out on Main Street near his Jeep. “That was fast,” he said, as Jeremy strode up.

“Gotta catch the daylight.” Jeremy’s face was flushed.

Without wasting any more time on talk, Chris and Jeremy got into the Jeep and Chris took off at a good clip, heading for the bridge on Sumptown Road.

“How was work?” Chris asked. He placed his hand, casually, on Jeremy’s thigh, intending only to squeeze it and pull back.

“I think I fucked up every other order. Hard to cook when you’re….”

“Yeah,” Chris said, his throat tight. He’d also spent most of the past six hours fighting an erection.

Jeremy was practically vibrating in his seat. He unhooked his seat belt and slithered over to place his lips against the side of Chris’s neck and his hand on his stomach, just where it had been earlier that day. The feel of Jeremy’s breath on his skin, the light suck of his lips, made Chris nearly drive off the road.