Chapter 01 MASON
I can’t believe I let Joelle talk me into signing up for this.
I’m a farmhand from rural Virginia, for crying out loud. I say shit like yes, ma’am, thank you kindly, over yonder, and knee-high to a grasshopper. I’m awake at five a.m. every day, sometimes sooner, so I can appreciate my coffee before feeding the livestock. I drive an old, rundown F-250, and I’m usually covered in some combination of shit and mud by noon.
Where I’m from, men aren’t attracted to other men. No, sir; we marry our high school sweethearts, spend every dime we have on a small piece of land, and start popping out youngins to help on the farm by the time we’re twenty-five.
Except even at twenty-five, I never had a high school sweetheart, I ain’t got two nickels to rub together, and since I am attracted to men, no one’s going to be having babies any time soon.
I love my life, but there’s no denying it gets lonely.
When Joelle showed me the advertisement for the photoshoot, looking for queer folks to sign up to be photographed with a stranger, she begged me to sign up—and let me tell you, my cousin could woo the tits off a bullfrog, so it didn’t take long before she’d had me convinced to give it a try.
“What have you got to lose, Mason? If no one else signs up, it ain’t like you’ll be any worse off. And if they do, well, hell, you might just find yourself a queer cowboy to make all your roll-in-the-hay fantasies come true,“
she’d argued.
“Gettin’ a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think, Joe? You’re assumin’ this photographer lady will pick me.”
Joelle had rolled her eyes.
“Mase, I’ve always told you that you’re too fucking pretty to be working on a farm. Anyone with eyes would love to put you in front of a camera.”
I laughed and told her she might be my cousin and my best friend, but she needed to quit callin’ me pretty before people got the wrong idea about her and me.
As it turns out, though, I was picked.
The stranger shoot is tomorrow, and I’m freaking the hell out…mostly because that means there’s another queer man within a reasonable distance of my house. I mean, sure, I’ve hooked up with guys before, but I had to drive at least an hour just to get to the halfway point between us. Yeah, good ole Grapevine, Virginia, doesn’t offer a gay man much opportunity.
Not to mention, our community is tightly knit, and private business doesn’t stay private for long. That’s both good and bad. It forces us to have to trust each other, and we definitely depend on one another. Winters can be brutal here in the Appalachian Mountains; summer droughts can wreak havoc on our fields and livestock, and most everyone in this farming community is third or fourth generation. Maybe older. We all belong here, and this land is in our blood, woven into our DNA.
So, it’s not as easy as being able to ‘just move’ like Joelle once suggested.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I pull up the address of where we’re meeting today. I recognize the place as Thorndike’s farm. Well, what used to be Thorndike’s farm. The crotchety old sumbitch died a few years back. The farm went into probate while some things got sorted out. Last I heard, some yuppie with money from New York bought it.
If there’s one thing my community hates, it’s out-of-town Yankees buying up our land. Hell, they might even choose a queer like me over a guy like that.
Old Thorndike’s place will probably have a gas station and a cheap motel on it before long.
My cell phone rings as I finish getting dressed. It feels strange replacing my dirty Carhartt uniform with clean Wranglers and a gray button-down. Still have my ball cap, though.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Good afternoon, Mason!“
the cheerful voice of Sadie, the photographer and mastermind behind today’s little session, rings through the line. I can’t help but smile at her cheerful disposition.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” I reply.
“Gosh,“
she gushes. “That accent reminds me of home,“
she says wistfully, prompting my next question.
“And where is that, ma’am?”
“North Carolina.”
“Nice place. Looks a lot like this state,“
I chuckle.
“Are you ready for today’s shoot?“
she asks, changing the subject.
“I reckon I’m as ready as I can be,“
I tell her honestly.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Could you, uh, tell me again what to expect?“
I ask, knowing I’ve forgotten most of the details by now.
“Of course! I’m going to keep you and our other participant back-to-back for the first few photos. I want you to close your eyes and use your other senses to discover who he is. I’ll be watching all the subtle signs to make sure you two are comfortable, and then I’ll have you turn around. Once you lay eyes on each other, I’ll know a lot more about the direction this shoot will take. And if at any time, you’re no longer comfortable or I ask you to do something you don’t feel sure about, we’ll stop. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you there. I’ll meet you in the visitor’s lot. I’ll get you in position before the other participant joins us.”
After ending the call, I send a quick text to Joelle asking her to wish me luck, and then I’m off.
I’m about two miles from my destination when I see a tractor broken down on the side of the road, which is something you don’t see often in these parts because everyone who owns a tractor out here also knows how to fix it.
The plume of smoke coming from under the hood—and the way the man is pacing with his hands on his head—tells me this must’ve just happened, and this guy doesn’t know how to fix it.
I don’t want to be late for my little social experiment today, but leaving someone stranded isn’t my style, either.
Pulling my truck in behind the tractor, I roll my window down.
“Need some help?“
I ask, already climbing out.
My boots crunch on the gravel of the shoulder as the man turns to face me.
Oh, fuck.
I don’t recognize him, but he’s hotter than the sun. A long-sleeved black T-shirt stretches across well-defined pecs, and his jeans hug an ass I’d like to sink my teeth into. His cowboy hat’s clearly for show since he obviously doesn’t know where to begin with this tractor issue, but it sure looks good on him.
“Um, yeah,“
he responds in a deep voice. “If you’ve got a second to take a look, or know who I should call, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Happy to. The tractor I use is the same brand. The farmer I work for refuses to use anything else,“
I say, making small talk while I pop the hood.
As soon as it’s open, I spot the problem.
“Well, shit. Water pump’s bad. You’ve got about two gallons of coolant dumped all over everything, which is why you’re smoking so badly.”
The man looks at his watch and mumbles, “Shit,“
under his breath.
I lean over the side, trying to get a feel for how much damage has been done.
“How long did you drive it after you realized something was wrong?“
I ask, looking over my shoulder. “My biggest concern is the possibility of a cracked head gasket.”
“That doesn’t sound good,“
he says with a neutral accent.
“It’s not,“
I confirm with a smile. “But I might have some time tomorrow morning to take a better look at it. I work down the road at Silver Ridge Farms, and we’ve got a pretty good setup to handle problems like this. Hell, we’d be screwed if we had to tow our machines every time there was a problem. I probably even have a spare pump lying around. It’s the head gasket that’ll be the biggest issue. I don’t have the right stuff for that.“
I’m rambling. This guy’s so hot, he’s messing with my head.
I dive back under the tractor hood and tug on a few hoses and belts just to make sure I don’t miss anything major before straightening up and facing the man before me.
“Oh, shit!“
he yells, waving a hand toward me. “Your shirt’s all greasy and wet now. I’m really sorry about all that. I’ll pay to have it dry cleaned.”
I bark out a laugh. “You aren’t from here, are you?“
Yeah, it’ll suck to show up to this photoshoot dirty, but this is the country. If Sadie wants authentic pictures, it doesn’t get more authentic than this. “If the stains don’t come out, it’ll just become a work shirt. Can’t have too many of those.“
Pointing to the tractor, I add, “She won’t budge without a tow. I’m on my way to a…meeting, but I can come back out for it later or in the mornin’. In the meantime, can I offer you a ride?“
It’s impossible to miss the way the man’s gaze travels the length of my body as he slowly makes his way up to my face.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Depends on where he’s headed, but I can always call Sadie and tell her I’m going to be a few minutes late. Besides, for this tall, dark, and handsome drink of water, I’d happily be late to my own funeral.
“Not at all,“
I reply, and fuck, my heart is racing.
He grabs something from the tractor’s dashboard and makes his way to my truck, easily climbing up. I’ve never really been self-conscious about my lack of money, and my old truck suits me just fine, but watching this well-put-together man smooth the stained seat cover over my torn leather seat makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Without missing a beat, he says, “I like your truck.“
I’m pretty sure he’s being sincere, but I must give him some side eye because he quickly follows it up with, “I wasn’t being sarcastic. It’s refreshing to be in a vehicle that feels comfortable instead of feeling like I need gloves to touch anything.”
I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been in a vehicle like that, so I just nod. “Where am I taking you?”
“Oh, uh, Four Seasons Farm.“
When I cock an eyebrow at him, he corrects himself. “Uh, you might know it as Thorndike’s place?”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.
That’s where I’m headed.
“What do you do there?“
I ask, probing without trying to be obvious.
“A little bit of everything, but mostly I fuck shit up,“
he says with a laugh. “Like the tractor.”
His laugh makes me smile and sets me at ease enough to ask, “Are you new around here? It sounds cliché, but everyone knows everyone in this town, and I can’t say we’ve met.“
I don’t add, and yours is a face I’d remember.
“Just moved here, actually. Bought the farm a few months ago, but had some loose ends to tie up before I could get out here permanently.“
He extends his hand. “I’m Casey.”
Holding the wheel with my left hand, I offer him my right. “Mason.”
His hand slides into mine easily, and the contact with this extremely attractive man sends a shiver down my spine. I fight the movement with every fiber of my being and pray he doesn’t notice my reaction to his touch. He lingers for a second before pulling his hand back, and I already miss the warmth.
Our total drive only takes about four minutes since he literally broke down two miles from his farm. I’m disappointed when it’s time for him to get out. He guides me to the back of the property, where the farmhouse sits.
It’s beautiful.
I’ve been to Four Seasons Farm a few times, but not recently, and I’ve never seen the house.
It’s older with far more character than most of the homes I see on a regular basis.
“Wow. Helluva place,“
I tell Casey.
“Yeah, it needed a little work, but it’s pretty perfect,“
he says, surveying the house lovingly. “Well, hey, let me give you my number, and we can figure out the tractor thing a little later. I’m tied up for a while this evening, but if you’re around tomorrow, maybe that could work?”
“Sure,“
I say, putting my number in his phone and handing it back.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mason. Thanks for the help, and sorry again about your shirt.”
“No problem. Just glad I was able to help.”
I put my truck in reverse, suddenly wishing I could cancel this photoshoot. What the hell will Casey think if he comes out front to find me doing God knows what with another man on his property? Then again, I know Sadie got permission for the shoot to be done here, but how much detail did she go into when asking permission?
And then I remember the way his eyes took me in when I offered him a ride. My dick still hasn’t fully deflated.
But it’s time to push that thought aside and focus on getting this photoshoot done. I’m intrigued to see if the other participant is anyone I know.