Timing (171 page)

“Where do you have to go?” he pried. “You’re on vacation.”

“Fine, do you happen to know a lady named Grace Freeman?”

He scowled down at me. “Sure, she owns the Dancing Horse

Ranch down toward Hillman. Why?”

I took a step back to put a little distance between us, because if I

didn’t, I was going to attack him. The man smelled amazing, clean and

spicy at the same time. His eyes were darkening pools of heat, and

looking at his plump, pink bottom lip was giving me chills. “I––I hafta

see if she wants to sell.”

He squinted at me. “You work for Armor South?”

“No,” I cleared my throat, taking another step back. “I work for

Chaney Putnam, and we’re the ones acquiring the land for Armor

South.”

“Whatever.” He advanced on me, one hand on the roof of the

Lexus, pinning me back against the side of the car. “She ain’t gonna

sell.”

“I think that’s awfully naïve of you to say when everyone else

did, in fact, sell.”

“She’s different.”

“How so?” Maybe he knew something I could use.

“She knows things ain’t always easy.”

“Okay, but does everything always hafta be hard?”

His scowl could have peeled paint.

“And why do you even care?” I asked, looking up at him.

He took a quick breath. “Because every ranch is important. We all

support each other.”

“The other ranchers already sold. How is that support?”

“You don’t know anything about working a ranch or about the

pride that comes from that,” he growled at me. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t need to,” I shot back. “I only need to know about Mrs.

Freeman and what’s best for her and her family.”

“You don’t know anything.”

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“Fine, can you move?”

He took a step back, and I walked around the car and got in. I felt

instantly better. Out on the highway, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Being around Rand Holloway took so much energy, and I hadn’t even

had coffee yet. Maybe Mrs. Freeman would have some.

It turned out that not only did she have coffee, but she made me

breakfast as well.

As I sat out on the porch sipping sweet tea with Mrs. Freeman

after breakfast, I realized that she was in a real quandary about what to

do. Her own sons had not wanted the ranch, and only one of her

grandsons seemed interested in the life. On the other hand, some of the

men that worked for her wanted to pool their money and buy the ranch,

but none of those plans were a certainty. The money Chaney Putnam

was offering was for sure, and her neighbors wanted her to take it. If

she said no, they all had to go back to their struggling ranches. Who

was she to sentence them to that when they all wanted to leave? But the

land had been in her family for generations and she didn’t want to be

the person who sold it.

“Yeah, you’re kinda screwed either way,” I said, smiling over at

her, holding my sweating glass of tea.

Her smile was wide. “That company of yours is mighty smart,

Mr. Joss, to be sendin’ me such a sweet boy to talk to.”

I waggled my eyebrows for her, eliciting a deep laugh. “Please,

call me Stefan, and I heard you didn’t like the other guy at all.”

“What other guy?”

“The first rep from Chaney Putnam. I heard you threw him off

your land.”

“Darlin’, you’re the first one who’s come.”

But that made no sense. Either she was mistaken, or Knox had

lied. But why would my boss lie to me? What would be the point of

that?

“Sweetheart?”

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Mary Calmes

But suddenly, I knew what the point was. Knox had tried to make

the whole situation that much more hopeless and dire so I would have

no choice but to go. Between the two of us, he was infinitely more

dramatic.

“Stefan?”

I cleared my throat. “So how ’bout I come back on Monday

before I leave and we’ll talk some more? How would that be?”

Her face showed her astonishment. “You… you’re not going to

try and get an answer now?”

“No, ma’am,” I assured her. “You need to think hard. You know

better than I do what the community needs. I mean, there are jobs

associated with the opening of the kind of store that Armor South wants

to put up, but you have to weigh that against the lives of your family

and the men who work on your ranch.”

“Yes,” she agreed solemnly.

I leaned over toward her. “You have my number; call me if you

just need to talk. I’m a really good listener. Maybe there are

alternatives that neither of us has thought of yet.”

When I reached out my hand, she took it.

“Whatever I can do,” I said gently.

“Thank you, Stefan,” she sighed deeply. “Thank you so much.”

I GOT back after lunch, and Charlotte wanted me to go with her to shop

for lingerie for the wedding night. Her girlfriends were thrilled to have

me along and surprised that I had good suggestions for my friend. We

met Ben and the rest of the wedding party out for dinner. I was pleased

that we were missing Rand. I wasn’t up to a second altercation with

him.

After dinner, we went into Lubbock for the bachelor party, and

after four strip clubs, the drink minimum plus more at each place,

moving from bar to bar and club to club, everyone was drunk. Around

one, once everything closed, we returned home. I was the last out of

the car because I was carrying Ben. He had been awake in the car for

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33

twenty minutes of the hour ride back but had passed out in my lap

shortly thereafter. At least he had not succumbed to barfing, like two

of the other guys. Charlotte started giggling as soon as she saw me,

and I asked her if maybe she wanted to take charge of him. She was

marrying him, after all.

“Oh hell no,” she said like I was high.

“God, Stefan, isn’t he heavy?” Clarissa asked me.

“Yeah, he weighs a fuckin’ ton,” I grumbled, starting up the

stairs. It was awkward, since he was taller than my own five-eleven,

closer to six-three, but I managed.

“Is he all right?” she laughed at me.

“Yeah, he’s just done,” I assured her, waving without looking at

her.

“Well, throw him in bed and come back down. I want to talk to

you,” Charlotte told me.

I loved her, but I was beat. “How ’bout I’ll see you in the

morning?”

“Okay,” she called after me. “I’ll see you then. Love you!”

“Right backatcha.”

Upstairs, I eased him down on the bed as gently as I could. After I

took off his shoes and socks, I decided to leave the rest. I covered him

with a blanket and was almost to the door.

“You know, I’ve never been in a fist fight in my life.”

Weird thing for him to say out of the blue, but he was drunk, so I

went with it and turned around to face the bed in the darkness. “No?”

“No,” he burped. “How many have you been in?”

“Too many to count. Now go to sleep.”

“Wait.”

I groaned but turned again from the door.

He sat up and flicked on the small light on the nightstand. “How

come you’ve been in a lot of fights, Stef?”

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Mary Calmes

“I dunno, just have.”

“Because of being gay?”

“No,” I yawned, “not once because I was gay. Mostly from

drunks, some because of trying to break something up, and one because

my roommate has a big fuckin’ mouth.”

He grinned, and in the faint light, his warm brown eyes glowed as

he looked at me. “Oh yeah? Charlotte got you in a bar fight?”

“Yep,” I nodded before I explained about the drunken brawl in

the middle of the pool hall when we were in college. Charlotte had

been running her mouth, not backing down from the table of drunken

frat boys shooting pool alongside us. When they had finally had

enough, I was the one they came after, since they couldn’t hit a girl.

“How many guys?”

“Just three,” I lied. It had been more like five.

“Jesus, Stefan ,you’re a badass, huh?”

“I just wasn’t as drunk as they were.”

His mouth was curled up in the corner, his eyes slits, and his hair

was sticking up on one side. He was a disheveled mess, and I had never

seen him look better. “Go to sleep.”

“Wait.”

I looked back around the door, since I was already in the hall.

“What?”

“What if I hafta barf?”

“The trash can’s there next to the bed.”

“You think of everything,” he said softly, his eyes on mine.

“Always.”

“Thanks for bein’ such a good friend, Stef. You didn’t hafta like

me”—he burped—“’cause you’re Char’s friend and all, but you do, and

I appreciate it.”

“I’m your friend too.”

“No, I know, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You mean if you guys get a divorce you know she’ll get me.”

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35

“Well that’s a nice fuckin’ thing to say right before I get

married.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“Shit.”

I laughed at him. “Go to sleep already.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“I used to be worried, you know, when I first met you. I thought

maybe you’d wanna fuck me or something and it sorta weirded me

out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But now I know it ain’t like that.”

“’Cause you’re not my type,” I teased him.

“Shut up,” he burped, “I’m tryin’ to have a moment here.”

“Sorry.”

“I just… you’re the only gay person I know.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I told him honestly, “but I appreciate the

sentiment. Can you go to bed now?”

“Yeah,” he belched loudly, lying down on the bed. “I think maybe

I should, but Stef?”

“What?”

“Come kiss me goodnight.”

I flipped him off before I closed the door behind me.