Sutcliffe Cove

by Ariel Tachna

  “I’m surrounded by horse lovers, aren’t I?” Robbie asked with a dramatic sigh. “So what can I do to help, lover? Since I made it all the way out here.”

  “Nothing,” Brett replied. “Just enjoy yourself. I’ve got plenty of willing hands already.”

  Gerald raised a brow and adjusted his baseball cap before glancing to Brett. “I’m going to help the kids set up the bonfire,” he said, gesturing at the big stacks of wood and branches that had been dumped on the other side of the camp inside a cleared dirt circle. “You can help if you want,” he offered to Robbie, making an attempt to include him.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” Robbie replied with a light laugh. “City boy through and through, I’m afraid. Sometimes I wonder why Brett puts up with me.” He draped his arms around Brett’s waist and smirked at Gerald over the redhead’s shoulder. He’d heard far too much about “Gerry” over the past three months not to want to make his claim as obvious as possible.

  Gerald’s lips twitched as he recognized Robbie’s tactics. “If you need anything just yell,” he told Brett before looking back at the man hanging onto him. “Enjoy the picnic.” Then he turned and walked off toward the kids who started running about at his direction.

  “He’d be glad to show you what to do,” Brett offered, shrugging away from Robbie just a little. “I’m going to be busy here with the cooking for awhile. Or you can just relax down by the lake.”

  Robbie’s eyes flicked to Gerald in his beaten-up jeans and old T-shirt, and he shook his head. “No, I want to stay here with you,” he asserted. “I took the time to look nice for you, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

  “You look nice to me no matter what,” Brett promised, wondering idly if he’d made a mistake inviting Robbie to the cookout. It wasn’t exactly a stay-clean experience most of the time.

  Smiling brightly, Robbie pressed his lips against Brett’s in a blatant display. “You need something nice-looking around this farm,” he teased. Sort of.

  Brett frowned into the kiss. “Robbie, there are kids around,” he scolded softly. “Let’s save the kissing for later, when the younger crew has gone home.”

  Robbie huffed and took a step back, wrinkling his nose a little as a herd of youngsters stampeded by. “I’ll hold you to that,” he promised, hoping that would be sooner rather than later.

  Brett sighed. Yeah, he’d definitely made a mistake. “Let me get the food ready,” he suggested. “The sooner I get that done, the sooner the kids will be ready to leave.” Of course, that didn’t count the bonfire after dinner or the games the kids usually played, but he didn’t see any reason to try Robbie’s patience that much just yet.

  Across the camp, Gerald helped some of the smaller kids pick up broken branches as he supervised the older students moving the cut pieces. He kept glancing over to the grill, wondering at the stiff set of Brett’s shoulders. When Robbie turned, the petulant look on his face explained it. Gerald chuckled.

  “What’s funny, Mr. Gerry?” little Patty asked as she scooped up another branch.

  “Ah. You all working so hard, you know? Makes me very proud of you,” Gerald covered.

  “Since we’re working hard, can we ride Misfit later?” she piped. “Buckeye is here, but I ride him all the time.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Gerald said awkwardly as they walked with full arms toward the growing pile of wood. “We’ll have to ask your teacher.”

  “Okay,” she said as she tossed her armful down and then made a beeline toward the grill.

  “Oh boy,” Gerald murmured. He’d forgotten that Patty’s teacher was Brett.

  When she got to the grill, Patty had to push past Robbie. “Mr. Brett? Mr. Brett?” she asked, practically bouncing.

  “What’s up, Patty?” Brett asked, grinning down at one of his more apt pupils in the five-year-old class. “Having fun?”

  “Oh, yes,” she enthused. “Mr. Gerry says to ask you if I can ride Misfit later since I’m working so hard now.”

  Brett pretended to consider for a moment. “I don’t know. She’s an awfully big horse. Do you think you can handle her?”

  She nodded so hard Brett thought her head might fly off, and her jostling made Robbie step back a little.

  “Tell you what,” Brett suggested. “After dinner, we can ride her together. How’s that sound?”

  “Yay!” Patty squealed, running back to tell Mr. Gerry.

  “You’re going to ride and smell like horse all night,” Robbie said with a sniff.

  “I rode out here already,” Brett pointed out, trying to keep hold of his temper. “And that’s the only way I have to get back to the house once the cookout’s over. I told you this was a farm gathering. If you didn’t want to be outside and around the horses, you shouldn’t have come.”

  “I was hoping you’d spend some time with me if I came out here,” Robbie pointed out.

  “And I will,” Brett promised, “just as soon as I finish cooking dinner and get the bonfire started. I’m the host, not just another guest. I have to make sure everything’s taken care of.”

  “All right,” Robbie said with a put-on sigh. “I’ll just drag a chair over so we can still talk.”

  Brett didn’t mention that Robbie would end up smelling like wood smoke if he did that. He didn’t want a scene. Not here, anyway.

  Hours later, tons of food was cooked and eaten, games were played, and kids got horseback rides and swimming time. The sun was low in the sky, and families were packing up to leave. The instructor who’d driven the kids down in the pickup was loading them into the bed, and a few other vehicles took off as well, leaving just a group of farm volunteers behind.

  Brett sighed in relief as he swung down off Misfit’s back. He loved the cookouts, loved listening to the kids laugh and squeal as he cantered them around the field, but it was tiring. His back ached from the odd position of having a child sitting in front of him, throwing off his motion just enough to make it uncomfortable. Loosening Misfit’s girth and hooking her back to the grazing line, he turned and surveyed the remaining guests. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, beer having replaced the soft drinks now that the little ones were gone. Well, almost everyone.

  Robbie was sitting in a bag chair he’d claimed—no way was he sitting on one of the dirty picnic table benches—and he was tapping the arm impatiently. When he saw Brett climb off the horse, he was up and by him quickly. “Can we go now?”

  “The party’s just starting,” Brett protested. “Come on, baby. Relax a little and have a beer. It’s starting to get dark. We can slip back into the woods, neck a little if you want. And then when everyone’s gone, we can go back to the house and make love all night long.”

  Frowning, Robbie shook his head. “I’ve waited all day, Brett, and I’m tired of being outside. The bugs will just come out after dark. Let’s go back to the house and neck there.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t leave until everyone else does?” Brett asked in frustration.

  “You’ve got all these people who work for you out here to keep an eye on things,” Robbie retorted. “You know, you’ve acted like you don’t want me here all day, and frankly, I’m tired of it.”

  “Look, I don’t want to fight about this,” Brett said tiredly. “Why don’t you go home, and I’ll come by your place tomorrow? We can go to that club you like so much and hang out there. My treat, since you spent the day with me today.”

  Robbie looked somewhat mollified, though it was obvious he was still put out. “Fine. Take me up to the house then.” He smiled slightly, a plan developing.

  “Hey, boss,” Jimmy called. “I’m going to drive up to the house and get more beer. Do you need anything else while I’m up there?”

  “No,” Brett replied, “but Robbie could use a ride, if you don’t mind.”

  Robbie’s lips compressed angrily, and he turned and stomped off to the truck without another word. Within a minute, he and the truck were gone.
>
  Brett let out a long, relieved sigh. With Robbie gone, now maybe he’d be able to enjoy the rest of the cookout. He glanced around, wondering where Gerald had disappeared to. Seeing him by the bonfire, he walked over and joined him. “Sorry I haven’t been around much tonight. Are you having a good time?”

  Gerald turned his chin and lowered the beer bottle from his lips. “Yeah, it’s been great,” he answered as he studied Brett’s face. The other man looked worn out. “You work really hard to make it good, especially for the kids,” he observed.

  “Without the kids, I wouldn’t have a business,” Brett replied practically. “I have some adult classes, yeah, but the kids are by far the bulk of my customers.” He chuckled. “And I love it. Can you tell?”

  “Yeah, it’s obvious,” Gerald said with a grin. “And the kids are great. Patty taught me the corn-hole toss.”

  “She’s a champion,” Brett laughed, enjoying the flicker of firelight over Gerald’s face. “I don’t think anyone’s beaten her yet.”

  “I sure didn’t,” Gerald said with a laugh before tilting his bottle back and emptying it. “So what’s next for the party? I actually expected marshmallows.”

  “We can break out the S’mores if you really want,” Brett chuckled. “I think they got packed in one of the saddle bags. Otherwise, it’s just sit around and enjoy the beer until it’s gone or everyone decides to jump in the lake.”

  Gerald actually bounced a little. “I’ve always wanted to toast marshmallows over a real fire!”

  “All right,” Brett agreed, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Let me see if I can find them. If not, we’ll have to wait for Jimmy to get back with the truck unless you want to run up to the house on Misfit.”

  He dug around in the saddlebags, finding a bag of marshmallows, but no graham crackers or chocolate bars. “Well, what do you want? Just marshmallows or the whole shebang?”

  “I’m happy with just marshmallows,” Gerald said, poking around part of the small brush pile yet to be added to the fire in search of a long, straight branch.

  “Don’t use one of those,” Brett cautioned. “They’ll catch on fire. Get a fresh one off a tree.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his knife. “Here, use this. And get me one too, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay,” Gerald said agreeably, and he walked off into the sunset-lit bower to find a couple of branches he liked.

  Brett opened the plastic sack and checked the fire, knocking a few coals away from the main blaze so they could roast the marshmallows rather than charring them. He knew some people liked the treats blackened, but not him. He liked them a light, golden brown. Just the color Gerald’s skin had turned after spending the summer outside helping around the farm.

  That skin soon appeared right under his eyes as Gerald crouched next to him and held out the branches, his long arms set off by the light blue T-shirt he wore. “How about these?” Gerald asked.

  “They’re fine,” Brett said, not even looking at the branches. He was too caught up in wondering where that thought came from. “Here.” He handed Gerald a marshmallow, his eyes never leaving the strong arms in front of him.

  Settling happily cross-legged near the fire, Gerald jabbed the marshmallow with a small chuckle and soon had it carefully over the flames. “This is great!”

  “It’ll be even better if you don’t burn it,” Brett said with a laugh, guiding Gerald’s hand away from the flames to the hot coals. “This way, it gets a nice crusty outside while turning hot and gooey inside. And it doesn’t burn.”

  “Ah, see, you’re still giving me lessons,” Gerald teased, moving the stick as directed.

  “Once a teacher, always a teacher,” Brett said, sticking his marshmallow next to Gerald’s until it was just the right color. Bringing the sticky mess to his mouth, he ate it right off the end of the branch.

  Gerald followed suit, grinning as he sucked the gooey marshmallow off his fingers. “I never thought a horseback-riding lesson would lead to something like this,” he said, reaching across Brett for another white sugar puff.

  “You never know where things will lead,” Brett agreed softly, his breath catching as Gerald’s shoulder brushed against his chest. It was an innocent gesture, but the effect it had on him was far from unassuming.

  “You said it,” Gerald agreed, pushing the second marshmallow on his stick. He glanced up at Brett to see the firelight coloring his skin warmer and setting a sparkle in his eyes. A thought occurred. “Hey, where’s Robbie? Won’t he want a marshmallow?”

  “He left,” Brett said flatly, not wanting to discuss his disgruntled lover. “I don’t think he realized how much work I’d have to put into today.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gerald said genuinely. “I’m sure I could have done more to help.” He offered Brett his toasted marshmallow.

  Or Robbie could have, Brett thought uncharitably. “You were a huge help,” he said aloud, “and you were here to have fun too, not just to work. Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault at all.”

  The sound of the truck returning drew their attention. Jimmy jumped out of the cab and pulled down another cooler of beer. Several of the remaining volunteers grabbed a bottle, but several others called their goodbyes, taking the horses they’d rode in on and heading back to the barn.

  Gerald traded Jimmy a hot marshmallow for two beers, and he offered Brett one. “Well, sit down and rest a bit then. Doesn’t look like everyone’s leaving just yet.”

  “Maybe not for a couple of hours,” Brett said, taking the beer and swigging it down. “There’s no end time for the cookout. People just drift off as they get tired.”

  “We had barbecues in the backyard for family reunions,” Gerald confided. “But it was nothing like this.”

  “This is a Sutcliffe Cove tradition,” Brett explained. “I remember coming out here with my grandparents when they were still running the farm, and it was already a huge event. It just seems to get bigger and better every year.”

  “There had to be more than a hundred people here today,” Gerald said. “I figured you’d done this before to get it all pulled together.”

  “Oh yeah, for as many years as I can remember. Most of the time, even when I wasn’t living nearby, I’d come home for this weekend to help out.”

  “I’d certainly have done the same,” Gerald said. He reached over Brett’s lap to snag another marshmallow from the bag. “I’m going to eat all these and regret it tomorrow,” he muttered, this time poking two onto the stick so he could make one for Brett too.

  “We’ll just have to work it off you in the morning,” Brett suggested. “You are coming by in the morning, aren’t you?” The thought of starting a Sunday without Gerald’s smiling face didn’t appeal at all.

  “Planned on it,” Gerald said as he stuck the stick above the glowing coals. “Although I might sleep in a little later than usual after today,” he said with a smile.

  “You can crash in my guest room if you want,” Brett offered. “I put clean sheets on it earlier in case anyone had too much to drink and couldn’t drive home, but it looks like everyone’s pretty sober. You’re welcome to use it. It’ll save you some time tonight and in the morning.”

  Gerald shivered ever so slightly despite how heated his front was from the fire. He looked at Brett for a long moment and told himself he was reading into the words something that wasn’t there. Of course Brett wanted him there on Sundays; he always needed the help, though he’d never make Gerald feel guilty about missing. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

  “Do you need a blanket?” Brett asked solicitously, seeing the shiver run down Gerald’s back. “I’ve got some in the truck. They’re saddle blankets, but they’re clean.”

  “Oh….” Gerald swallowed and scrambled for something to say. “No, just too close to the coals, I guess. My backside is a lot cooler.” With a sigh, he was glad his face was already flushed, because it would have been after that bonehead comment.

  “Turn around,” Br
ett insisted. “No need to be shy. Or cold, for that matter.”

  Gerald cleared his throat and shuffled on the ground so he mostly faced away. He brought his two toasted marshmallows with him and started pulling one off the stick, frowning as the browned outer layer slipped off, leaving the creamy clump of filling on the wood.

  Brett chuckled. “Here, let me get you another one.”

  “This one’s fine,” Gerald said. He just lifted the stick to his lips and ate the marshmallow off like it was on a skewer. As he moved on to the second marshmallow, the hot, sticky sugar smeared over his lips and cheek, and Gerald laughed.

  Brett tried to stifle his groan at the sudden image of licking the mess off Gerald’s face. He shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts. He had a lover, for heaven’s sake.

  “Hey, boss, we’re heading home,” Jimmy called, interrupting Brett’s lusty fantasy. “See you on Monday!”

  “Night, Jimmy,” Brett called back. “Thanks for all your help today.”

  Gerald waved as well as the rest of the instructors loaded up into the truck and left, having taken the horses back to the stables a few hours ago. Only Misfit and Zach, another of the stable’s horses, stood in the nearby meadow, snuffling in the grass.

  “I’ll give you a hand cleaning up,” Gerald said as they stood next to the dying fire.

  “There’s not much left to do,” Brett replied. “Jimmy took the trash bags and coolers back in the truck. All that’s left is the bag of marshmallows.” He glanced around, searching for an excuse to keep Gerald out there a little bit longer. “Hey, you want to go swimming? The water stays warm all night long this time of year.”

  “I don’t have any trunks with me,” Gerald said, though he cast a longing glance toward the water. It would have felt great after being hot and sweaty all day.

  “So? Just wear your shorts and then put your jeans back on when we’re done and you can throw them in my washer tonight,” Brett suggested. “It’s not like I’ve got trunks out here either.”

  Gerald blinked a few times before shrugging, “Okay,” he said. “Swimming sounds good.”