12. Ethan
Ethan
The coffee at the Laughing Fork tastes far too good. Or maybe I’ve consumed far too much this morning.
I’ve been productive in scheduling content and editing photos.
A group of LGBTQ+ kids arrived last week, and I asked to tag along and document what they do.
That opened a lot more agencies I could reach out to about the ranch, and after a phone call with Jesse, he sounded a bit harried about all the interest I’d sent his way.
It’s what he’s paying me for, so he can’t be mad about it.
Six weeks into this job, and I already have some major wins.
“Hi, Ethan. You’ve been working a lot. Do you ever stop?” Cathy tops up my cup and slaps a new bowl of creamers on the table.
“Well, since you’ve been here as long as me, I’ll say right back at ya.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She laughs before sitting across from me.
She no longer asks permission, just does it.
Not that I mind. It’s one of those small-town things I love.
People become more friendly the longer they see you in their space.
“Really, though. It’s a beautiful day, and you’ve been in here, chained to your computer.
If your job has flexible hours, maybe you should work at night and take in some fresh mountain air. ”
Her words make me pause. My job is a contract with a set pay each week and certain expectations.
No specific hours or markers other than to bring in business and establish a media footprint for the ranch.
I’ve already exceeded expectations and have so much more planned.
Perhaps Cathy is right, and I should enjoy the day. It is a weekend, after all.
“You know what? I think that’s a great idea.”
“I’ve been known to have them a time or two.” She laughs as I close my laptop and slides my bill across the table to me. Over the top of it, she drew a smiley face and wrote, ‘My treat, have a great day.’
“Thank you, Cathy. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. Now go have a great weekend.”
She slides out of the booth with a wave and a smile stays glued on my face as I pack up my things. Not since I arrived and Colt showed me around have I really explored the town on my own.
After changing my laptop bag for a camera bag, I make my first stop at the library just across the street. It’s small, but the weekend programming has the place humming with activity. Kids in the corner are building slime with enthusiasm that can’t be faked.
A small hallway has a few rooms off it, and in one room, I find a group of mostly older women in a knitting circle. A younger woman is telling a story about how she talked to the owner of the Mercantile about stocking wool of a particular brand, and it might happen.
“Excuse me.” I knock, and six sets of eyes turn to me while knitting needles click. “Would you all mind if I took photos of you and what you’re working on?”
“Not at all.” I’m waved inside, and after quick introductions, they go back to knitting and talking like I’m not even there. After several minutes, I wave a thank you and continue into the library to follow the noise.
I thought the kids with slime were noisy, but this group is, well, loud. At a long table in the back of the library, a tall man with a booming, happy voice talks as he creates something that’s projected on a screen.
The four people sitting at the table all have the same materials in front of them, and after a moment, I realize they’re learning to tie flies for fishing like Colt showed me. When there’s a pause in the conversation, I ask permission to take photos.
“Absolutely,” the man booms. “You can even try it if you’d like. I have an extra kit and vise with me.”
“Really? I’m not crafty or anything. You think I can?”
“Porter, can he learn to tie a fly?”
A young man in his 20s who looks more like a video gamer than an outdoorsman snorts. “If I can learn, anyone can do it. Chris will teach you. He’s the best.”
“Okay!” I slip off my camera and take an empty seat. A man at the table walks me through the materials and equipment while Chris keeps tying his project. Once he’s finished, he slides into a seat next to me and walks me through each step of tying the fly he just made.
Chris never loses his patience or laughs. He corrects me gently, and after a very short twenty minutes, I sit back and assess my creation. It looks nothing like the photo, which is supposed to be a type of dragonfly, but still…I made it!
“That’s so cool. Thank you.” I offer a hand to the man and introduce myself. “I’m Ethan, by the way. I’m working at Snow Creek Ranch for the summer. You must know Colt? He’s a great fisherman.”
Chris nods. “I know who you are. Great to meet you, and yes, he’s an amazing fisherman.”
There’s no hardness to his voice, but it feels like I’m being evaluated. In a gentle way, though. I get the strong feeling Chris would protect Colt without a thought, and I find that oddly comforting.
“I guess it’s a small town and I stand out enough that you’d know who I am.”
He takes my fly off the vise and drops it into a small baggie before handing it to me. “Something like that. You should come to my shop. My wife is there right now until I get back.”
“I’m out exploring today, so I just might do that. Thank you. This is really cool.”
“My pleasure.”
Chris assesses me silently again, and I wonder if Colt has said anything to him about me. Good or bad. “Thanks again.” I slide the baggie with my fly into a pocket and leave the library. On the way out, I notice a posting for a paint class sign-up.
“What the hell,” I mutter and scribble my name and number under the sheet. Might as well do something away from the screen, like Cathy said. Making a fly was kind of neat. A different way of creating, I suppose. Perhaps painting might unlock something else on my creative side.
I don’t end up going to Chris’s fly shop. Instead, I browse the Mercantile and drink a cream soda at the park before dipping into the bookstore. I’m not looking for anything in particular, but it’s a nice shop, and I end up buying a book about trout fishing in Colorado because I like the pictures.
When I exit the shop, I look up to find Colt literally right in front of me. He’s so close that if I hadn’t been watching, I’d likely have run into him.
“Hi!” I hold up my book for Colt. “If you haven’t been in here, they have a great section on fishing and the outdoors. I bought this because, ah…the fish are really pretty.”
Colt laughs as I cringe at my words. “I’ve been there. Told Aubrey what books to stock for fishing, and you’re right. The fish in that book are beautiful. Great photography.”
Of course, he’d have been in the bookstore and had probably known they have books on fishing. He’s lived here his whole life. Everyone knows each other, and if Colt knows when the lawn at the park gets mowed, he’d know about fishing books.
“Oh. I should’ve known you already knew about this. When I read it, I’ll ask you if I have questions. What are you up to?”
Colt motions to the door I didn’t notice on the side of the building. “I just got home from visiting my uncle in Fort Collins.”
“You live here?”
He nods. “Were you expecting something else?”
“No, I…well, I didn’t have any expectations. I just haven’t seen you all week.”
I stop short of telling him I missed him because that might be weird. To him, though. Not me. I have missed him.
“It’s been a full week. Would you like to come up?”
That’s not a question he needs to ask me twice.
“If you’re not busy, I’d love to.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have time, Ethan.”
Colt leads me up the flight of stairs to a small landing where he unlocks the door to his apartment. “It’s not much, but it’s home, and I like it. Pardon the mess.”
Flattened moving boxes sit in the hallway along with unopened ones.
“Are you just moving in or moving out?” I ask as I follow him into the kitchen and stop when I see the tabletop easel and paints. “Do you paint?” Dumb question. Of course, he paints. It’s his apartment.
“Yes. Not much. Mostly sunrises and landscapes. I’ve never really branched out.” Colt laughs as he nods toward the painting. “You can get closer to look at it. I don’t mind.”
I practically fall over in my haste to see what Colt paints, and when I do, my chest fills with a mixture of wonder, pride, and longing that I’ve never experienced before.
“This is beautiful, Colt. So beautiful.” I’m staring at a watercolor painting of a sunrise that shouldn’t draw emotion from me, but it does. Maybe it’s just because I’m standing in his kitchen. Or maybe it’s because I’m serious about missing him.
“So are you,” he whispers. My heart soars as he steadies himself next to me. “Ethan…I did a lot of thinking today. About you.”
“Did you?”
He hums and moves a step away, so I turn my full attention to him. Colt bites at his bottom lip, and I wait for him to speak, but it seems like maybe I might have to go first.
“I spent the morning at the Laughing Fork working. Cathy, do you know her? She’s the server all the time I’m there.”
Colt nods. “She’s great.”
“She is. Anyway, she said I should go out and experience the day and explore. I hadn’t really done that yet. You took me to the park and the Mercantile, but I’d never really looked, if that makes sense.”
“It does.”
“I knew you’d understand what I meant.” Colt licks his lips, and I watch a little too closely. “I met ladies knitting, saw kids making slime, and met a group of people tying flies.”
Colt’s eyes light up. “You went to the library!”
“I did.” Fishing in my pocket, I pull out the rather ugly thing I created. “I made this.”
Colt flips the package over in his fingers, and I watch as his lips curve into a smile.
“Ethan…you tied a fly with Chris? How was it?”
“I did. He’s an amazing teacher, though it was a little tedious. I’m not sure I could focus on tying flies for very long. Do you think mine will catch any fish?”
Colt slides it out of the bag and peers closer. “See, the thing is, you gotta think like a fish. If you were a fish, would you eat this?”
“If I’m hungry, I’ll eat anything.”
“The old fish with failing eyesight will go for this.” Colt snorts as I gasp, and he places the fly on the table as he steps closer to me. His features morph into seriousness as he brushes a tentative thumb along my jaw. “The fish would take a chance if it wanted it enough.”
We aren’t talking about fish; I know that. Instead of teasing Colt, I wait for his next move.
“If I said I wanted to have something with you while you’re here, would you…Is that something you might want, too?”
“I’d love nothing more than to spend as much time with you as I could.”
“Just time?” Colt asks as his gaze drops to my mouth, and I lick my lips.
“No. Everything Colt.” Stepping closer, I place my hands on his hips. “If I could, I’d be in your back pocket all day and under your sheets every night.”
“Shit, Ethan.” His brows knit together as he searches my face. “I’ve never been with someone where I know it has an end. I’ve always had time for everything, and today I thought about how much time I don’t really have with you. I don’t want to waste it because I think you feel like that too?”
Smiling, I bring my nose next to his. “For a quiet guy, that was a lot of words. But yes…there’s something with you I can’t ignore.”
Colt tilts his head slightly to bring his lips to mine in a slow kiss. Seriously, how can he be such a good kisser? We kiss until I feel like my head is in a different stratosphere, and he steps away.
“Let me show you the living room.” He takes my hand and tugs me along with a shy smile. “I’d show you the bedroom, but it’s a mess. Next time.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Colt’s living room is bright and open, with a sofa and built-in shelving along one wall. It’s cozy and so fucking charming I can’t imagine a better-suited place for Colt that’s not on horseback or fishing in a river.
He flops onto his sofa and pulls me on top of him. We land in an awkward mix of arms and legs and laughter. Colt kisses me again with a newfound fierceness that takes my breath away. Like he’s afraid I’ll evaporate if he lets me breathe.
Reluctantly, I pull back a little and peer into his handsome face. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything about what you thought about today, Colt.” My fingers trace this brow. “What’s going on up here?”
“A lot,” he admits with an honesty that shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Colt sighs and stretches up to kiss me softly. “Yes. Over ice cream?”
“A man after my heart with ice cream. I’d love that.”
“I can woo you with Dairy Queen? I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“I mean…it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
After I finally remove myself from his arms, we exit his apartment. On the sidewalk, Colt takes my hand in his. “Can I hold your hand? Is that okay?”
“Very okay.”
He nods and squeezes my hand tighter.
We walk down the street on an early Saturday evening with Colt nodding and saying hello to many people.
He has an explanation for who each person is, and I’m so fucking charmed by it.
It’s not just, ‘that’s Don from the post office.
’ It’s ‘that’s Don, he helped me change my tire once. Good guy, he works at the post office.’
It’s such a different experience from my past city living, where most people don’t even make eye contact with others on the street. Or your neighbor. Trevor’s condo neighbor never said hello or even waved.
I tried so hard to get to know him and Trevor’s co-workers and never made an ounce of progress.
I constantly felt like I was simply looking through a pane of glass at a life I lived in, but wasn’t quite part of.
I know more about Cathy at the Laughing Fork in a few weeks than I ever did about my ex’s coworkers and his neighbor in a year.
Here in this small town of Chance, I feel something different. It’s not just a rapidly growing fondness for the man next to me, either.
Colt smiles at me as we cross the street to Dairy Queen, and I think it’s the first time in years that I truly feel seen.