Chapter 11
ALEX
IndexEcho: Sorry I was MIA for a couple of days. Food poisoning.
DrunkenPoet: Should I send you photos of my meatloaf?
IndexEcho: If only that was a euphemism for something much better.
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I’d done everything in my power to send Chief Kincaid the message that I was into him. I’d even cleared up the misunderstanding about a previous meeting. And still… rejection.
Not gonna lie, it stung like a bitch. But I was a grown man, and I could take it.
But I was sick and tired of being rejected.
And yes, I realized I wasn’t actively rejected by IndexEcho.
Chances were high that he was killed. Regardless, it was time to move on.
Watching Monroe flirt with Kincaid reminded me that I would’ve appreciated being on the receiving end of that attention, and my sister had even tried to make that happen for me earlier in the summer.
“Can I find a hookup in Billings, or do I have to use an app?” I asked my cousin Lennon while helping him load feed into his truck at Palmer’s Feed and Seed on the edge of town.
Lennon glanced up at me like a deer in headlights. “How would I know?”
I rolled my eyes. “Listen. You can play recluse monk to the rest of the family, but I know you hook up. What I don’t know is how or where.”
He grunted and went back to the stack of feedbags on the pallet.
“In summer, it’s easy since the tourists are here.
In winter… it depends. You either find someone local like Nate Lewis, who’s usually up for a quick fuck with no strings, or you head to Billings, Bozeman, or Missoula.
I usually need something from Costco anyway, so I kill two birds. ”
I squinted at him. “That’s your idea of a Costco run? Bulk laundry detergent and a quick beej?”
He shrugged. “Honestly, if you want to stay in Legacy, there’s usually someone up for it at SERA. I just don’t like to fuck around with Trace’s guys too much in case people start talking.”
“And since you need ten pounds of almonds and a three-pack of mustard, might as well, right?”
The edge of his lip quirked up a little in his version of a wide smile. “Convenience comes in many forms, Alex. Don’t knock it.”
I watched him load the truck with his broad shoulders and big arms under a wash-faded cotton tee with a barely visible “Legacy Beef” logo on the back.
My cousin was a catch. Fit and good-looking, an all-American rancher.
Son of a famous country music star—though that part he kept as close to the vest as possible.
It was one of the reasons he’d moved to Montana. To hide out on his ranch and work.
“Why don’t you date?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Don’t have the time.”
“Bullshit. You’re a multimillionaire. You could hire people to take some of that load off you in a minute. Tell me the real reason.”
He didn’t take his eyes off the bags of feed as he started a new stack in the bed of the pickup. “One too many people more interested in who my papa is than who I am.”
“Fair,” I said on a sigh. “I’m sorry for that. It’s bullshit.”
He shrugged again, but I could tell it was more serious than he let on.
His older brother, Wolfe, didn’t date either, but we were all convinced it was for a different reason.
Wolfe had been obsessed with his dad’s best friend, Trace, who also happened to be here in Legacy, for as long as anyone could remember.
“So back to hookups,” I said. “Can I find someone without the apps?”
Another shrug. “If you go to Billings and try to do it old-school, just remember what Uncle Beau says. You get what you get, and you don’t pitch a fit.
” Then he looked over at me and winked. “Or stay local. It’s still tourist season enough.
Just try and find someone who’s only in town for the night so if it sucks, you don’t have to see the guy the next day at Timber. ”
I groaned. “I hadn’t thought of that. Fuck. I think I’ll try Billings.”
“Why don’t you let Ella fix you up? There’s a guy at work she’s always talking about. She knows a lot of the guys at SERA, too.”
“No, thanks. I don’t need my sister in my sexual business.”
Of course, Morris Watt walked by right as I said that. His bushy eyebrows lifted and dropped. “Mornin’, Mr. Watt,” I called, trying not to act guilty.
As soon as he got into his old truck and lumbered out of the lot, Lennon chuckled softly. “You act like you’re not allowed to have sex. You’re a grown-ass man, Alex. And you can’t seriously tell me you haven’t had sex in the three years you’ve lived here.”
Okay, so maybe I was more of a liar than I thought.
“No, pfft. Of course not. I just… You know. Various other… like… that time we went back to California for Christmas. Or, um, when we have… tourist visitors or whatever. You know? So.” Now it was my turn to shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like I was some kind of playboy.
Like I was Jett Marian.
Lennon nodded. “’S no different. Just find someone and make it happen. No big.”
Except… it was big. It was definitely big.
Two weeks later, I came across an excuse to travel up to Billings. A band I liked was playing live music at the Palomino, so I booked a hotel room close by and dressed as slutty as gay Montana could handle in a town known for its huge-ass refinery.
There were plenty of guys looking for connections, but I was way too nervous and definitely too sober when I first walked in.
My plan was to catch a little buzz, listen to some music, and then get my flirt on in hopes of finding someone who wanted to kiss and grope a little in the bathroom or out back.
Wasn’t sure I was exactly up for bringing anyone back to my hotel room, but I also knew that the chances of me not coming the minute another man glanced at my dick were slim to none.
“Hey, cutie, what can I getcha?” a bartender asked when it was my turn to order a drink. He was younger than I was, with two long braids twisted into buns on top of his head like panda ears. “We’re running two for one on Bud Light, or I’ve got a great local IPA…?”
“Vodka cranberry, please,” I said, flashing him a smile. “Thanks.”
He nodded and got to work as I turned to take in the scene.
It was a decent crowd for a bar in Billings, but it was definitely not like going to a bar in San Francisco or Davis.
Many of the people in the casino area looked like they might have come from a long day at the refinery, and others looked like they’d been holding down their vinyl stool since the building had been erected early in the previous century.
But there were quite a few guys giving me a quick up-down, so I flashed my smile early and often.
“You okay, there, buddy?” the bartender asked, setting a refill down in front of me.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just seem… Never mind.”
The guy next to me leaned over and chuckled. “Little awkward. Boy, you wanna suck a dick, just lick your lips at someone. They’ll get the hint. Believe me.”
I… didn’t want to suck some random stranger’s dick in a gay bar in Billings. “What if I just want to make out on the dance floor a little?” I joked back.
The bartender and the guy next to me roared with laughter. “That’s a good one. Maybe the band knows Elvis’s ‘Love Me Tender,’ and you can even slow dance with your sweetheart.”
Okay, I was in over my head. The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, but at least I wasn’t desperate enough to have an even worse bad taste in my mouth.
Thankfully, the band was on fire, and I was able to relax and enjoy it once I stopped assessing everyone who came through the door as a potential hookup. How Lennon had ever found anyone here for a quick connection was beyond me.
Maybe I was being too picky or too snobby. Hell, I was definitely too scared, and I was using everything else as an excuse. It didn’t really matter in the end because the flirty bartender ended up being good company, and enough people started dancing that I was able to join and let loose a little.
Unfortunately, no one non-intimidating seemed interested. Plenty of guys tried to get me out back, but none of them seemed to want a little kissing and heavy petting.
Maybe the barfly was right. I was a little old lady whose idea of getting to first base was way too antiquated for a gay bar in Billings.
Before getting back on the road the next day, I went ahead and swung by Costco to get a few things I couldn’t get in Legacy.
My plan was to pick up a bulk container of nuts for Lennon as a joke and shop the big-screen televisions, even though mine was already plenty big.
But as soon as I opened my car door, I almost took out the man getting out of his truck beside me.
“Oh shit,” I blurted. “Sorr…” My voice trailed off as I realized it was Judd Kincaid.
His eyebrows lifted. “Alex? What’re you doing here?”
My face heated. “Um. Nuts? And stuff.”
He hesitated as if unsure how to take that. I didn’t blame him. So I added more. “Also, I was here in town to see a band play last night. At a bar. Palomino.”
“Ah. Was it good?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I had a good time. Drank and danced a little. You know.”
How long had it been since I’d felt this awkward?
“Good,” he said. “That… sounds good. Glad you had a chance to relax.”
Suddenly, I had a horrible thought. “Wait. Are you in Billings for a Costco run or a… a Costco run?”
Kincaid looked at me for a beat. “I… don’t understand. I’m here to get food. For the station house.”
And now I was on fire. “Of course! Well, I’d better go in. My plan was to get back in time to be at Timber for the dinner shift.”
He nodded. “Sure. Same. Er, well, I need to be back in time to make dinner for the crew. I promised to bring rotisserie chicken and a big cake.”
We started making our way toward the entrance, still speaking as awkwardly as if we were two fourteen-year-olds introduced by our parents and told to “make friends.”