Operation 22 The Road Back Home #3
“Pick the B, girl,” Amelia shouted at the game show. “Ain’t no word got two Qs in it like that. Pick the B.”
The contestant picked a Q.
Amelia threw both hands up. “Ugh!”
Bull poured coffee into a thermos and bitched about there not being enough vanilla creamer, Fox kept stealing bacon from Walker’s plate while he was consumed with the news.
Dale wouldn’t stop trying to assign Rid extra tasks that he continued rejecting, and Syn sat there eating the best breakfast he’d ever had while the room roared around him.
Fox turned his attention on him. “You ready for your lesson?”
Syn swallowed. “Uh yeah, I think so.”
“Don’t be anxious. You met Nimbus,” Fox said. “He likes you.”
“He liked frozen apples.”
“Same thing in horse language.”
Syn took another bite of potatoes. “You’re right. It’s a horse. How hard can it be?”
Every person in the kitchen went quiet.
Syn paused with the fork to his mouth.
Fox grinned. “You’ll be fine.”
“No, wait a minute, what was that?”
No one answered.
Before Syn could press further, a voice came from the doorway behind him. Deep and melodic, still rough from sleep. “Got room for one more?” Furi stood in the doorway.
Rid glanced up, then turned his head and spit orange juice clear across the dining room.
Dale jerked back. “Jesus Christ, Rid.”
Rid’s eyes went comically wide. His mouth hanging open as he stared past Syn.
Furi’s hair was brushed out, fluffy and loose, a long champagne-gold fall spilling over his shoulders, down his back, almost to his hips.
He wore a black tank top that left his arms and shoulders bare, inked skin on full display. His denims rode low on his hips, faded and worn, tucked into biker boots that gave the ranch environment a dose of city sexiness.
He looked rested and beautiful.
Furi’s gaze found his first and held.
The gaze he gave him was soft, and so full of appreciation it nearly took Syn apart in front of a table full of cowboys.
Fox stood, crossed the dining room and pulled Furi into a hug. Furi held him back, eyes closing for half a second.
“I’m glad you came,” Fox said.
Furi’s smile was faint, but real. “Thank you.”
Behind Syn, Dale and Rid were having a hushed fight that failed in every attempt at secrecy.
“I’m telling you that’s him,” Rid whispered.
“Can you stare any harder?” Dale muttered.
“I’m just saying. This is crazy.”
“You’re acting like a twelve-year-old at a men’s swim meet.”
“No, fuck a swim meet. That is the fuckin’ Furious Styles standing in our kitchen.”
Dale made a strangled sound.
“I paid a whole nineteen ninety-nine for the director’s cut.”
“For the love of livestock, lower your voice,” Dale gritted, elbowing Rid in his side.
Syn pressed his lips together and stared down at his plate, trying not to laugh. He was just glad he wasn’t angry…or jealous.
Furi was his.
Fox brought Furi further into the room. Bull stepped forward and offered his hand and Furi took it.
“I’m Bull, good to meet ya.”
“Furious. You can call me, Furi,” he said. “Thank you for the hospitality. I know it’s late notice.”
Bull’s gaze slid from him to Syn, then back to Furi. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
Fox gestured toward the end of the counter. “That’s Bull’s father, Walker. And that dangerous woman by the stove is Amelia.”
Furi turned to them. “Sir. Ma’am. Thank you for letting me come into your home.”
Walker folded his newspaper halfway and looked Furi over like a man assessing a stallion. “You came for the man, not the house. Still, you’re welcome to both while you’re here.”
Syn almost choked on his coffee.
Furi chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Walker studied him over the top of his glasses. “Furious, huh? That a nickname, son, or should we be worried you got anger issues?”
Furi’s smile was shy and small. “No, sir. It’s my real name. My mother gave it to me after the doctors told her she was having a girl, then found out they were wrong when I was born. She named me the same way she felt in that moment.”
Amelia paused with her hand over her heart. “Well, I’ll be. That might be the saddest naming story I ever heard.”
Furi shrugged. “I’ve grown to love it, ma’am.”
Amelia stood. “Do you want something to eat, honey?”
Furi’s smile was wide and sincere. “Absolutely, it smells great.”
Amelia blushed. “Breakfast is usually self-serve, but I’ll fix your plate as a first day guest courtesy. Now, if you’re here tomorrow morning, you betta get down here at six sharp, or else there’ll only be scraps.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Furi made his way to him and Syn pushed back the empty chair beside him in invitation.
Furi sat close enough that their knees touched under the table.
The contact was small, but he felt it all the way to his chest.
Furi’s gaze dropped to Syn’s plate before he picked up a piece of potato and ate it.
Across the table, Rid still stared.
Dale stared too, though he was trying harder to pretend he wasn’t.
Syn rolled his eyes. “Furi, this is Dale, Bull’s business partner and foreman. And that,” Syn pointed his fork toward Rid, “is Rid. He’s the stable manager. He was functioning like a normal human being before you walked in.”
Rid opened his mouth but no words came.
Furi smiled at them, gorgeous and polite enough to worsen Rid’s condition. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Rid nodded hard, several times. “Yeah,” he croaked. “You, nice. Me too. I mean, yes. Nice, meeting, here, you. I’m Rid.”
Dale turned his head slowly. “Seriously?”
Rid stared at his plate. “This is a lot of pressure, okay?”
“You better put that hair up, son,” Walker spoke out of nowhere, eyes never leaving his paper. “You don’t wanna get it caught in the hay baler. They’ll be plucking pieces of you out of the machine till Christmas.”
Bull burst out laughing.
Furi touched the end of his hair. “That sounds unpleasant.”
Amelia’s eyes gleamed. “Can I braid it?”
Furi looked surprised at first, then something vulnerable revealed itself in his smile. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like that.”
Amelia beamed as if she’d won one of the prizes on that game show she’d been watching earlier. “Good. I’ll do it after breakfast.”
Fox clapped his hands once and stood. “Speaking of dying by being shredded by a baler, we need to get moving Syn.”
“You got it.” Syn downed the last of his strong coffee.
Fox grinned at Furi. “You wanna learn too? I can squeeze in another lesson.”
Rid’s hand shot into the air as if someone had asked for audience volunteers at a David Copperfield show. “I can teach him.”
Dale turned on him so fast his chair almost tipped over. “I thought you were busy all day.”
Rid lowered his hand slowly. “I can rearrange a couple things.”
Fox folded over laughing, and Bull didn’t bother hiding his as he leaned against the counter, shoulders shaking.
Amelia glanced back and forth between them, then at Walker. “What are we missing?”
Walker glanced over his paper. “I have no clue, and I’m too old to care.”
“Nothing, Amelia. Rid just thinks Furi would be fun to ride.” Fox cleared his throat. “I mean teach to ride.”
Bull cracked up so hard he had to set his thermos down.
Rid went red from his collar to his ears.
“Thanks for the offer,” Furi said smoothly, with his gaze on Rid. “But I believe I’m gonna to keep both feet on the ground. Maybe check out the petting zoo.”
Rid leapt up, “I can show you where it is.”
Dale stood too and caught him by the back of the collar. “The hell you will.”
Rid stumbled backward. “Dale.”
“You have a job to do, remember?” Dale said, dragging him toward the mudroom. “So if you’re done making me feel geriatric and inferior, it’s time to go.”
“Fine,” Rid said. “Furious, if you’re looking for me. I’ll be in Stable four.”
Dale stopped on his way out and gave Fox a hard scowl. “Any other friends you got dropping by for dinner tonight? Prince Harry? Or fucking Matt Damon for fuck’s sake.”
“Watch your mouth in my kitchen!” Amelia yelled.
“Sorry, Amelia,” Dale muttered.
The door shut behind them.
Beside him, Furi stole another potato before Amelia put his own plate in front of him.
An hour later, Amelia came around the counter with a brush and a hair tie. “Come on, baby. Before a goat makes a meal outta that hair.”
Furi stood, but before he moved away, he rubbed his fingers along the back of Syn’s hand. “Please be careful.”
Fox came to his side and tipped his chin toward the door. “Ready?”
Syn looked at Furi sitting obediently in Amelia’s chair while she gathered his hair with both hands, already complimenting him on the softness.
Syn pushed away from the table and got up.
“Yeah,” he told Fox, grabbing the borrowed hat from the counter. “Let’s go before my confidence wears off and common sense shows back up.”
Syn
Nimbus stood beneath Syn with the patience of a saint while Fox paced nearby with one hand hooked on his belt and the other holding a training line he claimed was ‘just for structure’.
Fox was trying to teach him how to stay on a horse.
Syn was trying to remember he was on one.
Two very different battles.
Because beyond the far fence, near the shaded petting area, Furi was on his knees in the grass with that long, thick braid Amelia had given him trailing down his back. She’d pulled the sides away from his face in smaller, tighter braids, leaving the rest swept back into one heavy plait.
It made him resemble a Viking prince. One who’d wandered off his land, found a baby goat, and decided to feed it.
A cluster of animals gathered around him, battling the dwarf goat for his lap. A woolly lamb nosed at his thigh, a miniature donkey stood close enough for Furi to rub between its ears, and a fat gray rabbit was being held carefully in the crook of one tattooed arm.
A potbellied pig snuffled at his boot while Furi laughed at something a little girl said, the sound carrying across the morning breeze and landing straight in the center of his chest.
He looked ridiculous…but beautiful. Peaceful.
Fox snapped his fingers. “Syn.”
Syn blinked. “Huh, what?”
“Focus,” Fox barked.
Furi laughed louder, and Syn glanced in his direction again.