by Lynn Lorenz
“And, Edward, for you and Sammi, Brian picked up some of those fancy frozen drinks.” Rush winked. “Piña colada, margarita or daquiri?”
“Ooh!” Edward rubbed his hands together. “Piña colada. I can pretend I’m on an island cruise surrounded by men who appreciate me.” He glared at Jack as Rush handed him the drink. “Thanks!”
Jack groaned. “I appreciate you, baby. I do. I’m just not sure how much these guys want to hear about…”
“Our a-mazing sex life?” Edward’s eyes sparkled.
Jack shot back the rest of his drink. “Edward.”
Rush chuckled. “No worries, Jack. I’ll forget I heard that.”
“Thanks.” Jack tapped his glass and Rush poured another shot.
Phillip liked that Rush thought about his guests and didn’t make anyone feel…well, not like they were…he didn’t know what. And that he’d stood up for him when it looked like things were going to turn ugly. How Jack had stepped in to protect Edward, kind of like how Estaban had done for him. What would it be like to know someone cared enough about him to have his back? If Edward had said the word, Jack would have leveled Phillip, but once things had been cleared up, both men had let it go and accepted him there.
These were good people, people he’d be proud to call friends. Of course, he might not be around long enough to get there. Best to keep his distance and not get too comfortable.
The doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” Phillip went to the door and opened it, praying he didn’t know the other guys. No drama would be nice about now.
“Happy holidays! Come on in. I’m Phillip.” He waved his arm, inviting them in, getting into the spirit of the holidays.
“Well, hello, Phillip.” A young man, bundled in a military style jacket, with a swath of long black bangs hanging over half his face, stepped in carrying a large tote bag. “I’m Sammi, with an ‘i’. This is Mitchell, my boyfriend. I don’t think we’ve met before. Wow, that eye looks painful.”
“Not anymore. And no, we haven’t met before. I’m sort of crashing the party.” He held out his hands. “Can I take that? Do you need help with anything?”
Edward came up and greeted Sammi with a kiss on the cheek. He turned to the handsome man with him. “You’re looking good, Mitchell.” He winked at him and the guy chuckled.
“Edward, how are you?” Mitchell leaned in for a kiss too. “Hi, Rush.” He waved. “And it’s Phillip?” He shook hands with Phillip. “Look, if you really want to help, Sammi’s got a metric ton of food in the back of the car. I’m sure between you, Edward and Sammi, you can make short work of it.”
“We’ll get it inside along with Jack’s pies.” Phillip opened the door and led the way to one of the cars. Sammi and Edward brought up the rear, arms linked and their heads together. A wave of worry came over Phillip. Were they talking about him? Was Edward filling Sammi in about who he was? About his limp? He’d crashed their party, even though Rush and Brian had invited him, and for some reason, they’d neglected to tell anyone else he’d be here. It was all types of awkward.
Maybe he wasn’t really wanted, after all? Maybe it’d been one of those invitations you were supposed to turn down? He groaned inside.
Sammi came up to him, touched his shoulder and spoke soft and low. “Don’t worry. The guys want you here. We know you tried to help Edward. And no one cares about your limp.”
Phillip stopped dead and stared at him. “What?”
Edward rolled his eyes and shook his finger. “Don’t do that, Sammi. It’s rude to read people’s minds.”
“Read minds? What are you talking about?” Phillip looked from one to the other.
“Sammi can’t help himself, honey.” Edward glared at Sammi. “Think of it as a party trick.”
“It’s not a trick.” Sammi frowned. “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened in.”
“If it’s not a trick, what is it?” Phillip tried to make sense of what he was hearing.
Sammi hit the remote for the car and the trunk popped open. “Let’s get this stuff inside. That’s for tonight.” He pointed to a tray covered with plastic wrap. “The rest is for tomorrow. We can get it after dinner. It’s cold enough to keep for a while.”
“Sure.” Phillip edged toward the trunk. “You didn’t answer my question, Sammi. How did you know what I was thinking?”
Sammi huffed and leaned against the car. “Look, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to hear people’s thoughts. Not really read their minds and not always clearly. Most of the time it’s all a jumble of noise, but every now and then certain voices come through to me.”
“And my voice came through?” He picked up the tray. From the weight of it, had to be a casserole. He stepped back so Edward could grab another dish.
“Yeah, it did. Please don’t worry. We’re fine with you being here. The more the merrier!” Sammi smiled at him, then tossed his bangs and gave Phillip a considering look. “I’m thinking…there’s something special about you.”
“Me?” Phillip coughed. “Nothing special about me. I’m just…”
“Drifting through life?” Sammi put his hand on Phillip’s arm.
Phillip stared at Sammi. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Man, that’s weird.”
“I told him to keep his mind to himself.” Edward huffed. “No one listens to me.”
Sammi laughed. “Jack does. Especially when you talk dirty to him.”
“Sammi! Just tell all my secrets.” Edward giggled. “When he gets going, my man is all sorts of nasty.” He gave an exaggerated shiver.
“TMI!” Phillip laughed.
“Hey, you guys need help?” a voice called from the porch. Rush.
They all ducked, then laughed again. “Busted.” Edward sighed. “Let’s get this stuff and go inside.” He leaned closer to Phillip and Sammi, then lowered his voice. “We can get the pies next. Jack’s looking forward to the apple crumble.”
They brought all the food in, made another trip, got the pies and emptied the trunk. Then dinner was served and everyone filled their plates.
Phillip watched from the other side of the table as the guys found places to eat. As he waited until everyone had taken a seat, he puttered around in the kitchen trying to stay out of the way and fade into the background. These were not his friends and despite their welcome, he felt like a third wheel.
When the last of them sat down, Phillip took the remaining seat. It would have been Brian’s if he’d stayed. Phillip concentrated on eating and listening to the conversations around him.
Could what Sammi had said be true? Could he hear people’s thoughts? Like a power? Like his power of influencing?
If that was true, man, he wanted to talk to Sammi. He’d never met anyone who was…weird like him.
He glanced up and looked around the table.
Sammi sat next to Mitchell, who was talking about something to do with oil, but Sammi’s gaze homed in on Phillip.
A small nod and a rapid smile from Sammi, then he leaned over to Mitchell to say something.
Weird.
But interesting.
* * * *
After dinner, they gathered around the living room. Large couches and comfortable plush chairs meant to hold a big man were set around the room, focusing on the massive fireplace. Everyone was full and an air of peace settled over them.
Phillip had never been in such a welcoming home, much less around so many gay men who weren’t on the prowl. The couples sat together, with only Rush and Phillip in the chairs. On a loveseat, Sammi sat cradled in Mitchell’s lap as if he belonged there. Edward snuggled under Jack’s arm on a couch.
Phillip offered to untangle the lights before they decorated the tree, so he levered himself down to the floor, sitting cross-legged. He didn’t feel as if he’d earned a spot among them, no matter how Rush encouraged him. He made excuses about being sore, which Rush thankfully accepted.
Once they’d fixed up the tree, Phillip decided it was time to make
himself scarce and give the friends time alone. He made his excuses and headed upstairs to bed.
Once undressed and under the covers, he picked up his phone and brought up the text conversation with Estaban. He reread it, taking his time, hearing Estaban’s voice in his head. Had he mistaken flirting for concern? Could he have missed Estaban’s attempts to reach out to him?
It was after ten. No texts tonight. He put the phone on the side table and rolled over. What would it feel like if Estaban had been with him here tonight, acting as if they were a couple, like the others? With kisses and holding hands and sitting so close together he could feel him breathe.
Wonderful. It would have felt wonderful.
Beggars can’t be choosers. And of all the people he knew, he was a beggar. Had been most of his life. He’d just let the dice fall, accepted what little he had, whatever came his way, like that job at the garage and the dinky trailer. As if that was all he was worth or deserved.
Maybe it was time to stop begging and ask for what he wanted.
A job as a cowboy and a home here on the ranch.
Estaban in his arms and in his bed.
Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
Chapter Fifteen
Christmas morning at the Double T Ranch
Phillip woke early, showered, dressed and headed downstairs. This was a ranch and there would be some work to do first thing. He wanted to show Rush he was willing to step up if needed.
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air as he tiptoed downstairs, then into the kitchen.
“Morning.” He nodded to Brian and Rush sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cups in their hands.
“What’re you doin’ up so early, son?” Rush took a sip.
“Figured there was work to be done, and that Manuel might be home and you might need some help.” He poured a mug, fixed it with a little cream and sugar, then sat across from them.
Rush smiled over his cup. “That’s nice of you.”
“Not nice. I want to.”
“Got something to prove, do you?” Rush winked at Brian.
“Maybe.” Phillip shrugged. “What needs doing?”
“Got to feed the horses, mostly. Cattle can take care of themselves for today.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Babe, we’ll be out in the barn if you need us.”
Brian held up his cup of coffee in a salute. “I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back. The others should be getting up by then.”
Rush motioned for Phillip to follow him. At the door, they put on their coats and hats. Phillip glanced over to the tree, multicolored lights making it look so pretty. He stared harder. Encircling the tree were four boxes tied up with red ribbons. Gifts. Fuck. He didn’t have a gift for anyone, not even Brian and Rush.
No one mentioned handing out gifts.
He groaned.
“What’s that?” Rush gazed at him. “Something hurting?”
“No.” He sighed and pointed with a jerk of his chin. “Gifts. I don’t have a gift for anyone.” He stared at his feet. “I feel so lame.”
“Don’t worry about it. We told the guys no gifts. Those are just from Sammi.” He leaned in. “They smell like cookies.”
“Oh. That was nice of him.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
Rush opened the door and stepped out. Cold air hit Phillip in the face and he tugged his hat down lower. At least they’d be working in the barn and not out on the range where the wind would cut through him.
They headed at a trot to the horse barn. Once inside, Rush pointed to the feed room. “Go ahead and get a wheelbarrow and load it up with that oat mixture. Put one scoop in each of the feed buckets hanging on the stall. I’ll fill the water troughs.”
Each stall had a water pipe leading to it, so all Rush had to do was climb up on the rails of the stall, turn on the spigot, fill the trough, then shut it off.
Phillip got the barrow and wheeled it into the feed room. He found a large plastic container filled with a grain mixture. On top of it sat the scoop. He pried off the top and started digging out grain and dumping it into the barrow, one scoop for each horse.
As he pushed the barrow past each stall, he stopped, got a scoop of oats and dumped it into the buckets. The horses nickered and stomped, ears forward and noses pushing at Phillip as if to say, hurry up, I’m hungry.
Once he’d done that, Rush slapped him on the back. “Good job. Having you here made short work of a long job. Usually Manuel and the hands take care of this, so it’s good to have help.”
“Sure.” Phillip nodded. Now that the chores were done, he started thinking about breakfast. His belly rumbled.
But Rush seemed to have something else on his mind, because he walked over to an old chair and sat down. “Phillip, put the wheelbarrow away and come on over here. I want to talk to you.” He pointed to a stool.
Oh shit. Nothing good comes of ‘I want to talk to you’.
Phillip stored the barrow, shut the feed room door and limped over to sit. He sat, hands clasped between his legs, bracing himself.
“Brian seems to think you might want to go on to Houston after the holiday.”
Phillip didn’t answer. He didn’t think Rush wanted an answer yet, and besides, his mom had taught him only answer a question with a yes or no. Keep the chatter short, less chance to let slip something that could do you harm or get you arrested.
“I seem to think…I know what that look on your face all day yesterday means. You were happy. And maybe it’s the happiest you’ve been in a long time. Am I right?”
“Yes, sir.” Phillip could only get a few words out because his throat had closed tighter than a drum.
“You said being a cowboy was your dream job.” Rush glanced around the barn. “Taking care of the horses, riding the herd. Living on a ranch.”
Phillip nodded, he closed his lips tight, afraid he’d bust out and say something to make Rush not want him. This conversation could go bad or good, he knew it, and it scared him something fierce. For once, his mom’s advice was good.
“Before I hire someone, I want to know about him, who he is. And I don’t know much about you, son.” He sat back and studied Phillip. “Where are you from?”
“I was born and raised in Nevada.”
“When and why did you leave home?”
“I left at sixteen, when I came out. My mom…she wasn’t…happy about me being gay. Told me I could fix it, or leave. I decided to leave. Didn’t think being gay needed to be fixed.” He shrugged. It hadn’t been the whole truth, but it was part truth—she hadn’t been happy, she’d told him to fix it, he’d decided to leave. But he left out the part about them being questioned by the police. He’d seen the writing on the wall and gotten the hell out before he wound up behind bars.
“So, you’ve been drifting for about six or seven years?” Rush pushed his hat back on his head. “That’s a long time.”
“It is. Some days it feels like it, some others time just flies. But mostly it’s okay, I guess. It is what it is.”
“What’s the longest time you’ve stayed in one place?”
Phillip didn’t have to think long. “Here. Spring Lake. Been here almost a year. For a while, I thought I’d stay here…well, longer.” He snorted. “If that guy hadn’t shown up at the garage, I’d still be sitting in my trailer, working the front counter. Maybe worked up to manager.”
“I don’t want to hire someone who looks at this ranch as a temporary gig. I need someone who has staying power. Someone who can maybe grow into Manuel’s job as foreman.”
Phillip sat up straight. “As foreman?” His voice squeaked like a little girl’s.
Rush held out his hands. “Now hold on, I’m not offering you a job. Yet.” He grinned. “But I have to think about the future. Manuel will retire in a few years. I want someone who doesn’t care about me and Brian living together, loving each other. A gay man would be ideal. Most of my hands are straight, from what I can tell. I don’t care if they are or aren�
��t, as long as they do their jobs and treat me and Brian with respect.” He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, then settled it back on his head. “What I want is someone who can grow with this job, who sees a future here, not just a job to get him through. Think you got that in you?” Rush narrowed his eyes at Phillip, as if he could see right through him to his heart and soul.
“I guess I’ve been wandering, sir. Looking for a place to land. To put down roots. Frankly, I never thought it was Spring Lake. Until I met Brian and he told me about how the town is changing. How it’s been accepting of you and the others. More gay-friendly, so to speak. And that’s got me to thinking.” He rubbed at the fading marks on his cheek. “What I want is to be a ranch hand. You’ve got a fine ranch, Mr. Weston. And I like the way you run it, how you treat people, even people you don’t know. Like me. Kindness has been hard to find in my life.” He sighed and gathered his courage. “I’ve been thinking hard about things. I don’t want to wake up at thirty and have nothing to show for it. I want to work here, sir. For as long as you’d have me.” Well, he’d done it. Said out loud what he wanted. No more begging for broken tortilla chips, he wanted the whole enchilada. With sour cream and cheese.
Rush stood. “Well, son. After the holiday, you can move into the bunkhouse. There’s a separate bedroom for the foreman. It’s got a heater. There’s a galley kitchen if you don’t feel like eating dinner with us. I’ll need some info from you, social security number and such, because I hire above board. We’ll discuss wages after the holiday when I do your paperwork.” He held out his hand for Phillip to shake. “Deal?”
“Deal!” Phillip grabbed his hand and pulled Rush in for a one-handed bro-hug. “Thank you, sir!” Rush slapped him on the back, then let him go and stepped away.
“And one more thing? Call me Rush. That ‘sir’ shit makes me feel old as hell.”
“You got it. Rush.” Phillip’s heart beat out a joyful rhythm. Could it really be true? He had his dream job? And on Christmas morning?
“Best Christmas ever!” he crowed.
Rush laughed. “Now, let’s get inside. I’m ready for breakfast.”