Burning the Midnight Oil: A Single Dad Small Town Romance

Chapter 14

“We all ready to go?” I ask Conrad as I glance at his truck in front of me, and the stock trailer we just hooked up to it. The sun has barely kissed the horizon, temperatures dropped over night to freezing levels, and the Styrofoam to-go cup in my gloved hands is doing about fuck all at keeping them warm. It’s not snowing anymore, but it did most of last night.

Conrad gives the truck and trailer a once-over before nodding tersely. “Yeah, let’s hit the road. It’s going to take us a while to get there with how the roads are, I’m sure.”

A few days ago, Conrad called and asked if I’d go with him to Orton Creek this morning to pick up a couple of baby bison he’s adopting. It was about the strangest request coming from him, seeing as how he’s never owned bison in his life, but I agreed because I could really use some time out of the house. On a regular day, the drive would take us a couple of hours, but it’ll be even longer today because of the ice and snow.

On the road, music plays at a low volume, the heat on full blast. There aren’t many cars around this time of morning. Everything is frosted over with a thick layer of ice and fresh snow. Even Copper Lake looks frozen over as we drive around it to get to the highway.

“So, why bison?” I ask. The question has been tickling my mind.

He shrugs, eyes trained on the road. “Just wanted some.”

“A little random, isn’t it?” I laugh.

In his mid-forties, Conrad is the oldest out of all of us. He’s also the broodiest. He owns Grazing Acres Ranch, which is home to some of the greatest bucking bulls around. The ranch has been in his family for generations, and at one point or another, all of us have worked there or helped out. Mostly when we were teenagers, itching to get into the rodeo scene. His ranch—or his parents’ ranch at the time—was where I truly found my love of bulls and bull riding.

“Not any weirder than me owning horses,” he quips. “Just because I raise bulls for the rodeo doesn’t mean I can’t have other animals.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” I hold up my hands.

We make the drive to the farm in Orton Creek in just under three hours. One thing I love about hanging out with Conrad is the comfortable silence. He’s a man of few words, and he doesn’t feel the need to fill every bout of silence with meaningless small talk. The owners of the farm are ready for us as we arrive, helping us load the two baby bison into the trailer. They’re itty-bitty and actually kind of cute. I’ve only ever seen a few of these animals in person close up before, and this place has tons of them. The sun’s shining brightly in the sky by now, so the roads aren’t as rough as they were on our way here. With the bison loaded up, we head for home again.

“Do you have names for them?” I ask Conrad.

“Bogart and Biscuit,” he grunts out without any thought, like he’s had these names picked out for weeks now.

I cough and clear my throat to hide the laugh that wants to bubble up. “Bogart and Biscuit,” I repeat. “Where the hell did you come up with those names?”

He shrugs, one hand gripping the top of the steering wheel while his other arm rests in his lap. Conrad is a big man. I’m six-foot-three, and he’s got at least a couple of inches on me, and he’s built like a fucking wall. “I don’t know. Just liked the way they sounded.”

“Can they hang with the bulls?”

“Yeah, they can eventually. Probably not when they’re this little.” The conversation drifts after that for a while, but then I see him glance over at me briefly before he asks, “What’s the deal with you and Jade?”

I’m surprised Conrad’s even asking me about this. It’s not like him. Not that I mind. I feel comfortable enough with him to share this type of stuff. “We’re, uh, getting a divorce.”

“How’re you feeling about that?”

If anybody out of our group would understand what I’m going through, it’s Conrad. A few years back, he and Whit went through a divorce. It took the entire town by surprise because they had been together for so long. Conrad doesn’t talk much about the divorce, and neither does Whit, but it seemed hard on both of them, and for a while, I really thought they’d work it out and get back together. That is, until last year, when Whit started dating somebody else.

“I’m alright,” I tell him. “It’s for the best, but it still sucks to have to go through it.”

“When does she come home?”

“In a few days.”

I’m torn about whether Jade being back will make things at the house better or even more tense. Truthfully, I can’t see them being any more uncomfortable than they already are. It’s been a week since the incident, as I’m calling it in my head. I don’t even know how to move on from that. Or process it. My hands get clammy and it’s like my fight-or-flight activates whenever I think about it.

Both Grady and I have done an excellent job of avoiding each other as much as possible this past week. Or if we are in the same room together, we’re never alone. Suzy has somehow become an unknowing neutral ground between us. Which is ludicrous. It’s like we both think if we’re in a room without someone else there, it’ll suddenly happen again, and we won’t be able to stop it.

At least, that’s how I feel. I can’t speak for Grady.

My mind is a fucking mess, and I don’t know how to fix it or stop these thoughts. The entire situation is wrong. So fucking wrong. For a multitude of reasons.

The one fucking me up the most, though… Grady is a man. There is no denying he’s a man. And while I may have been with Jade for over a decade and my experience with anybody but her is extremely minimal, one thing has always been for certain: I like women. I’m not gay. I’ve never questioned if maybe I was bisexual. I’ve never been turned on by a man. Never. But for some reason, Grady’s eyes on me turned me on something fierce. Something that made me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

Fuck.

And as if the incident wasn’t bad enough, but what I saw the very next night has been weighing heavy on my mind too. I can’t make sense of why he would have pictures of me that he had taken. Beautiful, professional-level pictures. I try to think of what was going through his mind when he pulled out his camera and starting shooting. Was it an innocent thing, where he realized it would be a good shot so he took it? Or was it deeper than that? After the incident, I can’t be so sure.

My phone goes off, and when I turn it over, I see it’s a text from the last person I want to talk to.

Grady: Hey, no rush at all, but I was wondering if you knew when you may be home? Hannah just called and asked if I could pop into Powder Ridge later. It’s okay if I can’t, just asking.

Me: We’re on our way back. I’ll help him unload the bison, and then I can head home. So, probably a couple of hours at most.

Grady: HE GOT BISON?? Are you serious?

I can picture Grady’s wide eyes as if he’s asking me that in person.

Me: Yup. Two little ones.

Grady: Holy shit, that’s so cool. Can I come see them sometime?

Me: Fuck if I know. Ask Conrad. They’re his bison, not mine.

This is the most we’ve talked all week, aside from chatter with Suzy. Granted, it’s over text so it’s a lot easier, but it’s still so fucking awkward. I feel like I’m never going to be able to look at Grady the same way again. Or myself. And I don’t even want to imagine all the horrific things running through his head. He probably thinks I’m a pervert.

Although, he was the one snooping in my doorway in the middle of the night. If anyone looks like a pervert here, it’s him. Not that I think that.

Jesus Christ, this is all such a fucking mess.

Glancing over at Conrad, I consider confiding in him, getting his opinion. A huge part of me is screaming to keep my mouth shut, but another part is saying it might help. And it’s Conrad; it’s not like I think he’d tell anyone. I’m constantly on edge lately, and I think getting some of it off my chest would help alleviate some of that.

Before I can overthink it, I blurt out, “Was it weird for you to date after you and Whit got a divorce?”

I don’t bother looking at him, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of my face, probably wondering where the hell that question came from. “I wouldn’t know,” he grunts.

Turning my head, it’s my turn to stare at his profile with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It means I haven’t dated anybody.”

“At all?” My eyes widen.

“At all,” he repeats, eyes trained on the road. “Why do you ask?”

My heart hammers as I force myself to drag in a deep breath through my nose. I brought this up, so I may as well see it through. No sense chickening out now.

“I’ve…” Shit, how do I even say all of this without sounding like an asshole? “I’ve had some confusing thoughts about someone lately,” I decide to go with. “Somebody who isn’t Jade.”

That has him glancing over at me. “I don’t think that’s unheard of when going through a divorce.”

“Yeah, but they’re feelings I’ve never felt before. Thoughts I’ve never had before, but now they won’t get out of my head.” Deciding to stick with vague, I add, “I found myself in a…compromising position recently, and I can’t stop thinking about it and what it all means. It’s fucking confusing.”

Conrad doesn’t ask who it is, not that I expected him to, but I appreciate it, nonetheless. “Have you talked to this person about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Huffing out a laugh, I say, “Probably because I’m trying to make myself believe that if I pretend it never happened, it’ll eventually go away.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Conrad asks, “How’s that working for you?”

“Not great.” I chuckle. “Kind of shitty, actually.”

“Well, maybe start there,” he offers simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Deep down, I know he’s right. Grady and I need to talk about what happened, but I don’t know how. I’m not ready to do that yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be.