Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Cal lived in a three-bedroom, one-story house with the tiniest kitchen known to man and low ceilings that made him feel like a giant at six foot two. But he was home so infrequently that the space he slept in was almost inconsequential. It was his, and that was all that mattered. What did he care that the area between counters in the narrow kitchen was so small that he could barely fit inside if he stood sideways? Or that the front room didn’t get enough light? Or that the bathroom was painted an interesting shade of turquoise best saved for tourist sea vessels?
He didn’t.
Because four houses down on the opposite side of the street was Austin’s home.
And every Friday morning, before Cal started his day and before Austin headed to the studio, they met up for a lazy walk at the ass crack of dawn in what had been their tradition since Austin had bought the house across from Cal’s three years earlier.
In the dead of winter, they carried Thermoses of coffee.
But in mid-June, when the weather was beginning to cooperate, even at five in the morning, Cal carried a mug of steaming coffee with him to Austin’s place.
Austin met him outside, bleary-eyed and bed-headed, tugging his T-shirt down as he descended his porch steps with a yawn. Cal averted his gaze from the strip of skin between his shirt and his jeans where the T-shirt had gotten scrunched and didn’t quite reach his waistband.
And was that the top of his briefs peeking above his jeans?
Christ.
Cal gulped.
Austin paused at the base of the stairs and squinted up at the sun before squinting at Cal’s coffee. “Fuck. I forgot to make coffee agai?—”
“Here.” Cal handed him his mug, knowing Austin would’ve rolled out of bed approximately thirty seconds ago, and no , his mind didn’t conjure images of a mostly naked Austin against messy bedsheets.
It conjured images of Austin and Cal against messy bedsheets.
Which wasn’t much better.
Cal cleared his throat and led the way to the sidewalk, Austin falling into step beside him. “I had mine already.”
“You’re a saint,” Austin murmured. He took a sip, likely scalding his tongue in the process.
“Maybe someday you’ll remember to program your coffeemaker the night before.”
“Maybe someday you’ll admit I was right that GI Joes plus microwave equals total meltdown.”
“I didn’t say they wouldn’t melt,” Cal argued for the hundredth time. “I said they might not .”
“How could they not?”
“I was seven. What did I know?”
Austin grinned at him, and for a wild moment, Cal pictured himself leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He was still desperate to know what Austin had been going to say the other day, but now that a couple of days had passed, Cal didn’t know how to bring it up.
And Austin hadn’t either, for whatever reason. Whatever it was that could “keep” could obviously keep for longer than Cal was comfortable with.
He didn’t know why he was obsessing over it anyway. Austin had probably wanted to tell him that he had an out-of-town photo shoot coming up.
Cal pulled the bag of Twizzlers out of his back pocket and silently offered one to Austin, because this too was tradition.
Austin took the bag and dove in.
The older gentleman who’d lived on Elk Lane since possibly the dawn of time nodded at them as they approached his house. “Hey, Cal. Austin.”
“Hey, Chester,” Austin greeted, waving a limp Twizzler at him. “Doing some early morning yard work?”
“I thought I would.” Chester’s bushy white eyebrows pulled low as he frowned at his leaf blower. “But this thing won’t work.”
“Let me take a look.” Cal approached and took the machine from Chester. “Does it start up okay?” He hit the power button without waiting for an answer. The thing coughed to life, then quickly sputtered and died. “It’s probably the carburetor. Have you got carb cleaner?”
One bushy eyebrow went up. “That’s a thing?”
Cal chuckled. “I’ve got some at home. Let me grab it.”
“No, you don’t have to?—”
But he’d already jogged away.
He returned two minutes later with the can of cleaner, sat on the lawn, and removed the carburetor from the machine.
“I can do that, Cal.”
“Just let him do it,” Austin said to Chester, fondness and exasperation comingling in his voice. “He’s already in fix-it mode. Nothing’s going to distract him now.”
Cal paused at that. Fix-it mode?
What did that mean?
“Well, in that case...” Chester threw him a grin. “Want to fix my car too?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Cal asked, proving Austin’s point about being in fix-it mode. He couldn’t help himself. Helping others made him feel useful.
“No idea,” Chester said with a shrug.
So Cal fixed the leaf blower—turned out, it was the carburetor—and he fixed the car too, because why not? He had years of experience fixing farm equipment. An older model car devoid of today’s fancy computers and electronics was peanuts by comparison. And Chester was happy, which made Cal happy, and that wasn’t a bad way to start his morning.
He’d discarded his flannel shirt when he’d begun working on the car, and there was engine grease under his fingernails by the time he was done that he wiped away with the waterless hand cleaner Chester had left out for him. Austin had been chatting with Chester, and it wasn’t until Cal lowered the hood of the car back into place that he realized Chester had disappeared and Austin was staring at him, color high in his cheeks.
“You okay?” Cal asked him.
“Huh?” Austin snapped his gaze from Cal’s chest to his eyes. “What?”
“You okay? You don’t look so good. Are you not feeling well?”
“No, no. I’m good. Great, in fact. But you...” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and his gaze dipped to Cal’s chest again. “You look... dirty.”
Cal glanced down at himself. “Damn.” The engine grease had somehow made it onto his T-shirt. Ah well. He’d be three times as dirty by the time he finished his workday. He grabbed the towel Chester had left out for him and rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck.
Austin made a wounded noise.
“You sure you’re okay?” Cal asked him, eyeing Austin for signs of illness. “Why don’t you sit down?”
The laugh Austin let out was very squeaky. “I’m good. So good. Never been better. Do you need to change before work? I can come with you.”
“No point.” Cal wiped his hands on the towel. “I’ll be twice as messy before lunch.”
Austin made another noise.
A growly noise.
Cal froze, his senses on high alert, that growl lighting a fire in his veins. He inspected Austin again, taking in the color in his cheeks and the way he bounced on his toes and how his eyes couldn’t seem to land on any one part of Cal, flitting from his sweaty neck to his chest to his arms.
That wasn’t illness.
That was...
That was...
Was it... lust?
Holy—
“Here.” In what seemed to Cal like fervent desperation, Austin thrust the bag of Twizzlers at him. “Have some.”
Unsure what else to do, Cal did.
* * *
Austin was a hot mess.
Or rather, Cal had been a hot mess this morning, all sweaty and grease-stained and looking competent as hell with his head bent under the hood of Chester’s car, which, in turn, had made Austin hot under the collar. His fantasies had jumped from one to the other like a series of snapshots.
Austin stepping into Cal’s space.
Cal’s face registering surprise.
Austin fisting one hand in Cal’s T-shirt and backing him up against the garage door.
Cal’s expression shifting to desire.
Austin pressing himself up against Cal’s strong body, muscles pressed against muscles.
Austin kissing the daylights out of him.
Cal’s arms coming around him and pulling him closer.
Jesus.
Austin suppressed a shiver and almost had to fan himself.
And Cal had thought he was ill.
Honestly, it was almost funny.
He’d seemed to clue in eventually, though neither of them had said anything about it. Austin because it hadn’t been the time or place to tell Cal how he felt, and Cal because getting him to open up was about as likely as a bull getting pregnant.
Austin had his work cut out for him.
Speaking of bulls, the pastures outside the window of Derek March’s office were littered with cows. Cows and cowboys. Which, right now, kind of sounded like the title of Austin’s autobiography.
“What do you think, Austin? Is that doable?”
Austin turned away from the window with a grimace and faced Derek March, co-owner and chief marketing officer of Windsor Ranch. Derek was both tall and stocky, and his T-shirt strained over his chest.
“Sorry,” Austin said. “My mind wandered.”
“I was saying that I’d like to develop a brochure specifically for the outdoor outfitters in town,” Alice Windsor-March said from her seat at the table in Derek’s spacious office in the Windsor home. Like her brother, she too was involved in Windsor Ranch business. But whereas Las was all about ranching, Alice worked with their dad on the guest services and marketing side. “Something that showcases the outdoor activities we offer,” she continued, her nearly black eyes alight with excitement. She was tall, almost six feet, and had the same creamy skin tone and dark hair color as Las, although where Las’s hair was short, Alice’s was long and sleek. “Do you have time next week to photograph guests in action while they’re doing those activities?”
“Sure.” Austin resumed his seat at the table. “All of them or only the most popular ones?”
“Horseback riding, hiking, archery, mountain biking, and canoeing for sure.” Alice ticked them off on each finger. “Let’s start there and see how the brochure shakes up. I’ll send you the activities schedule for next week, and you can plan to be here whenever it suits you.”
“That sounds fine.” Austin sat back and kicked his legs out. “You’ll have to send me a list of guests who haven’t consented to being photographed and which activities they’re participating in so I can avoid those.”
“I’ll do that right now,” Alice said, tugging her laptop closer.
“And since when do you offer archery?”
“It’s new this year,” Derek said. “I always thought it looked easy, but...” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying a deep purple bruise that ran the entire length of the inside of his forearm.
Austin winced. “Ouch. How’d that happen?”
“The string snapped back when I let the arrow loose.”
“Aren’t there arm guards for that?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Apparently, he didn’t need one to test the bow.”
Derek smiled at his daughter and held both hands up. “Lesson learned, lesson learned. Not a mistake I’ll be making again.”
“Did you hit the target at least?” Austin asked.
“Not by a long shot.”
A few minutes later, after a reminder from Derek that Austin had a standing invitation to family dinner and family game nights, Austin jogged down the back steps of the house. A handful of cowboys milled around near the horse barn, but none of them were Austin’s.
But then that cowboy appeared from the opposite side of the barn, a swagger to his hips that Cal only adopted while at work. Like he knew he was top shit here and had the attitude to prove it.
It was hot as fuck.
And there Austin went, getting hot under the collar again. Didn’t help that Cal was, as he’d pointed out earlier, twice as messy as he’d been after fixing Chester’s car.
Didn’t help either that his T-shirt hugged his chest and arms and that his jeans hugged his thighs and ass so, so nicely. Austin wanted to tumble him into the grass and kiss his stupid face off until their lips hurt.
Gulping, he pulled the collar of his T-shirt away from his neck. He was overly warm and it had nothing to do with the temperature.
Las was at Cal’s side and he said something that made Cal smile. It was unreserved and friendly, very big brother speaking to little brother. It tugged at something in Austin’s chest, and he zipped quickly to his car to grab the bag of candy before leaning against the fence that separated the Windsor homestead from the nearby working areas.
“Hey,” he said, leaning one foot on the bottom railing.
Cal’s smile shifted. Became less familial and more...
Well. Austin didn’t know what. He’d never seen that kind of smile on Cal’s face before. There was a hint of wariness to it Austin didn’t like and didn’t know how to interpret.
He offered Cal the candy. “Twizzler?”
Again Cal’s smile shifted, wariness disappearing under amusement as he and Las approached.
“What’s with you two and Twizzlers?” Las asked. From the other side of the fence, he leaned his forearms on the top rung.
“They’re good,” Austin said.
“They’re fine,” Las countered. “There’s better candy out there.”
“But these are Cal’s favorite.”
From under the brim of his hat, Cal squinted at him. “No, they’re your favorite.”
Austin stared at him. “No, they’re not.”
“But...”
Las, looking all too delighted at the turn in conversation, got more comfortable against the railing.
“You brought them for us to share in kindergarten,” Austin said, as though the answer were right there.
“Yeah,” Cal said slowly, nudging up the brim of his hat. “Because you had them in your lunchbox the week before.”
“Because you had them in your lunchbox the week before that.”
“Fascinating,” Las whispered, grinning like he’d discovered the secret to life. “It’s like the chicken or the egg.”
“Do you... like Twizzlers?” Austin asked his best friend.
Cal hesitated. “I don’t hate them. Do you like Twizzlers?”
“They’re fine.”
“That’s what I said ,” Las interjected. He removed his hat and ran one hand through hair that was nearly as dark as midnight, then pointed the hat at them as he walked away. “I told you—there’s better candy out there.”
Feeling mysteriously unsettled, Austin stared at the bag in his hand. “Should I start bringing something different?”
“And mess with tradition?” Cal plucked a Twizzler out of the bag. “I think there’s karmic retribution for that.”
Austin chuckled. “Oh, is there? Will the universe smite me for changing things up?”
“You don’t know that it won’t. Why take the chance?” Cal’s phone beeped in his pocket, and he pulled it out as he bit off the end of the Twizzler. “Sorry, let me make sure Ewan and Orson don’t need me. I sent them to check the fencing in the east pastures.”
Austin hopped up to sit on the fence between them. “I thought those two didn’t get along.”
“They don’t, which is why I keep forcing them to work together. Builds character.”
“Or maybe you’re hoping one of them will kill the other and save you the trouble?”
Cal chuckled, but it faded fast when he opened his phone.
Concerned that something was wrong, Austin glanced at it too. Sitting where he was, he was at the perfect angle to see that no, Ewan and Orson weren’t in trouble. Instead, the notification on Cal’s phone was from...
But that couldn’t be right.
Clearing his throat, Cal blanked the screen. He shifted away a step, avoiding Austin’s eyes even though Austin was staring at the side of his head. Surely , Cal could feel his gaze on him.
“Are you... on a dating app?” Austin’s heart fell to his toes, his every wish for the future crumbling to ash.
He couldn’t have kept the mingled disbelief and disappointment from his voice if he’d tried.
He’d known Cal to date, of course, though not often. There’d been Miranda in high school, then whatever her name was about a decade ago, then a guy a few years back—one of the seasonal workers in guest services.
But a dating app meant he was either looking for a hookup, which wasn’t Cal’s MO, or he was looking for a relationship, which was .
Austin slid off the railing and back onto his side of the fence.
“I’m not,” Cal protested. “I mean, I guess I am, but... Alice made the profile for me and...”
And... what?
Cal shrugged one shoulder in a jerky gesture, uneasiness fairly radiating off him. Austin clutched the fence railing in both hands and held tight. “I didn’t realize you were dating.”
“I’m not,” Cal repeated. “Well, I did set up a coffee date with AmeliaJ, but I doubt that’ll come to anything.”
AmeliaJ. She sounded... sweet. Unassuming.
Austin hated her instantly.
“Well.” He clenched the railing tighter and took a deep breath, his pulse hammering loudly in his ears. “If you’re jumping back into the dating world, would you consider dating... me?”