by Elle Keaton
His mom was resting on the couch with her eyes shut. The TV was turned on, but Wyatt didn’t think she’d been watching anything. It looked like she had it on the QVC channel, which was really just reality-comedy-TV.
“Hey, Mama, I’m home but I need to change and head right back out for my shift at Demeter’s.”
“Okay, baby.”
“How’re you feeling?”
His mom smiled. “It’s kind of a bad day,” she admitted wanly.
After a few years where she’d tried to hide how ill she’d felt before collapsing and ending up in the hospital anyway, Wyatt had made her promise to be honest with him. If he didn’t know, he couldn’t help. He’d felt terrible for missing the signs of her illness.
“Have you eaten? Had enough water? Taken your medication?”
“Yes, baby boy, I’ve had tons of water, and enough pills to choke a horse. I’m mostly stiff and feel sore, like somebody’s been banging on me with a stick at night.”
Stiff and sore meant she might have an episode soon, or it could mean nothing. Wyatt wished her doctors would hurry up and figure out what meds would work for her MS. He hated seeing his vibrant mother quiet and still. She’d been sick a long time now, but he remembered when she’d take him to the park and play tag or walk with him along main street, window shopping all the things they couldn’t afford. Everything tired her out nowadays.
“I’ll be home around ten, I think.”
“Okay, but if your friends want to do something… you’ll say yes? I remember what it was like to be your age, you don’t need to be stuck here.”
It was sweet how his mom worried he didn’t have a good life, that he didn’t get time with his friends. Wyatt knew who his real friends were, and they weren’t people who tried to make him feel guilty or bad about taking care of his mama. He had a small group of real friends: Jordan (based in Seattle anyway); his boss, Zach; Zach’s boyfriend, Jeff; Jaime, one of the owners of Demeter’s; and Theo, who’d left Hollyridge last year to follow his dreams of discovering his family’s heritage and making big bucks doing documentary photography. There wasn’t anyone Wyatt wanted to hang out with after work outside of that group. Except Bennett.
“I was up early; a friend needed a ride. I’m tired, but if something comes up, I’ll text.”
As he headed to his makeshift room, his mother lifted her head and took a good look at him. “Baby, what did you do to your shirt?”
Wyatt glanced down at his chest. It pretty much looked like he’d wrestled with a small grubby puppy, exactly like he had.
“Oh, I found a puppy on the road, between Desert Aire and Richland. He was just in a box on the side of the road!”
Mariah lifted herself up onto one elbow. “Was he okay? What did you do with him?”
Wyatt found himself grinning. “I stopped at Caesura and twisted Bennett’s arm a little. He’s going to keep it until we can find it a home.”
His mom slumped back onto the couch. “Bennett, huh?” She shook her head. “Do you think you can win his heart through a puppy?”
Wyatt sighed. “I’ve tried just about everything else, Mom. Maybe Wicket will finally melt his cold, cold heart.”
Because, yes, Wyatt and his mom were that close, and she knew all about Wyatt’s unrequited crush on Bennett. She patiently listened every time he returned home—foiled again by the handsome, only slightly older man. Bennett acted like the eight-year difference between them was as wide as the freaking Mississippi River. He was constantly bringing up how young Wyatt was, how the world was Wyatt’s oyster (he hated oysters, FYI). That is, when he did talk. Really, his protests only made Wyatt work harder at chipping away Bennett’s gruff exterior, trying to expose the kind and sexy man he knew was underneath.
As far as Wyatt knew, Bennett had never dated men. But he wasn’t dating women, either, so… Bennett was fair game. And every once in a while, when Wyatt subtly flirted with Bennett, he was fairly sure Bennett flirted back. Unintentionally possibly, but Wyatt was convinced he was flirting. And that’s why he wasn’t giving up. That’s what kept him coming back again and again. That’s what led him to deposit a puppy in Bennett’s care.
“Be careful, baby boy. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
His mom’s words brought him back to the present. Wyatt snorted. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Mama. Sometimes our hearts don’t get what they want—so we get hurt.”
“No—I mean, yes,” she smiled at him, “but what I mean is, from what you’ve told me about Bennett, he has been hurt somehow. I don’t mean by a girlfriend or boyfriend; I mean by life. Why else would he live out there, away from everyone he knows?”
Mama, who loved the idea of family even though it was just the two of them, had a point. But from the minute he’d met the quiet, almost taciturn, vineyard manager, Wyatt had wanted him—it was instantaneous lust. Since then, the lust had only grown into something more. Unbeknownst to Bennett, he’d been headlining exclusively in Wyatt’s private fantasies for several years now. Fantasies that not only involved sex—because YES—but also Bennett as his. Bennett and Wyatt setting up an apartment together, grocery shopping, vacuuming….
At five-eleven, Wyatt wasn’t small, but Bennett was a giant. Six-four at least, with golden skin from being outside all day long. His white-blond hair was short, almost cut to his scalp, and all Wyatt wanted to do was run his fingers across Bennett’s skull and feel his spiky fringe The first time Bennett whipped off his T-shirt as he and the crew worked together to bring the grapes in, Wyatt almost lost the ability to speak. Almost. It had taken Bennett giving him a funny look to realize he’d stopped in the middle of saying something. Who knows what he’d been talking about?
“Now he has Wicket to keep him company,” Wyatt said lightly. “I need to get going.”
Demeter’s was packed. The heat of the day had lingered on, and every table on the patio was full as well as inside. Originally, Hollyridge had just been a small farm town in Eastern Washington, but back in the 1970s someone had the great idea of importing and planting their own grapevines—and the rest was history. It turned out the terroir around Hollyridge was perfect for lush red wines, and now the region competed globally for its own spot in the wine market, bringing in a lot of tourists who wanted to check out the cellars, vineyards, and tasting rooms for themselves.
Wyatt had no desire to move away from Hollyridge, but he loved meeting the people who came to visit. Once he’d met a guy from the Lost Apostles (one of his favorite rock bands) who’d been there with his boyfriend. He didn’t need to leave Hollyridge to experience the world, the world came to him.
Business finally began to slow down around dinner time. Demeter’s didn’t offer food, although patrons could bring in their own snacks if they wanted. Most, however, chose to eat at the upscale restaurants dotted along on Main Street.
“Man, who abandoned the tourist bus full of people around the corner?” Wyatt teased Jaime when they were both taking a minute at the end of the wine bar.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. I did not expect it to be this busy tonight. I’m not complaining, but man, I am going to sleep like a log when we get home.”
“Me too.” Wyatt suppressed a yawn.
“Up late?” Jaime cocked an eyebrow at him.
“No, Jordan missed the bus back to Seattle this morning, so I gave him a ride.”
“The early bus?”
“Yeah, the 4:15 never showed up. There were a couple other people waiting too, so it wasn’t his fault. But I’m pretty beat now.” He was about to tell Jaime about Wicket when she placed a hand on his arm.
“Don’t look now, but he’s here.”
Sadly, Wyatt didn’t have to ask who he was. Jaime had figured out Wyatt’s crush on Bennett and appointed herself both big sister and wingman.
“And… he has a puppy!” Jaime’s voice rose when she registered what Bennett was carrying. She loved dogs but she and her husband, Dag, didn’t have one at the moment.
Wyatt turned around so he could watch Bennett walk in. Was there anything hotter than a sexy-as-fuck man holding a puppy? Maybe a naked sexy-as-fuck man holding a puppy.
Wicket was tucked underneath Bennett’s muscled arm, his little pink tongue stuck out of his mouth like he forgot it was there. Now that he was clean, his white fur glowed against Bennett’s tan skin. Wyatt knew the minute the puppy spotted him, as his body exploded into motion, up-down and side-to-side.
“When did Bennett get a puppy?” Jaime asked.
“Uh—”
But Wyatt was cut off by Bennett’s growl.
“Wyatt pawned this excuse of a canine off on me this afternoon and then left me alone with it.”
“Not an it. Wicket,” Wyatt corrected as he moved toward Bennett and took the wiggle monster from him. If possible, Wicket wiggled even more, and his tongue managed to swipe Wyatt across both cheeks and his forehead before he got the puppy settled in his arms. His little body vibrated against Wyatt’s chest.
“He’s adorable!” Jaime said. “Where did you get him?”
Wyatt told her about seeing the box on the side of the road and discovering Wicket inside it.
“He is one lucky pup,” Jaime crooned as she scratched him on the head and let him kiss her hand, “but now we’ll need to wash our hands. Great to see you, Bennett!”
Wyatt was sure Jaime thought she was doing him a favor by leaving them alone but from the stormy expression on Bennett’s face, Wyatt didn’t necessarily agree.
“So, hey, what’s up? Did you just stop by to say hi?”
Wyatt tried to be nonchalant but, jeez, Bennett looked good enough to eat. He was wearing a favorite T-shirt of Wyatt’s, one that fit him like a glove, stretching across his pecs just so. Sunnyside Fruit Farm was visible in faded lettering. He’d taken a shower since Wyatt had seen him and changed into not only the aforementioned shirt but a pair of jeans that left nothing to Wyatt’s imagination. As he moved closer, Wyatt got a whiff of his aftershave. Something spicy, like cinnamon, he thought.
“He can’t stay with me,” Bennett growled, again.
“I don’t have anywhere else! My mom is allergic and anyway, she’s not feeling well, and a puppy would be too much.”
“You didn’t tell me she wasn’t feeling well again.”
Wyatt loved that Bennett’s tone immediately changed from grumpy to concerned. It warmed something in his heart—and was one of the many reasons Wyatt was still in love with the man.
“She’s—” Wyatt waggled his head back and forth because releasing his grip on Wicket wasn’t an option. “The docs changed her meds and she’s having a hard time getting used to them. I’m not really sure, she doesn’t like to worry me so sometimes it takes a little while before I find everything out.”
Bennett ran a hand across his head. He kept his nails short; his fingers were thick and nicked in various places from working on his truck and the harvest equipment and whatever else Zach needed him to do.
“Damn, Wyatt. I’m sorry. But seriously, I cannot get anything done with Wicket around. I had to take him into the shower with me! I tried to leave him in the living room, but he howled and cried until I let him in.”
A stab of jealousy shot through Wyatt—Wicket had seen Bennett naked. Something was wrong with the world.
“He’s just little and scared. Can you imagine being left in a box on the side of the road?”
Bennett rolled his sky-blue eyes. “Of course I can’t imagine that! I’m not a terrible person. But I can’t have him underfoot, and I have a feeling,” he glared at Wicket, “I won’t be getting much sleep. And tomorrow is going to come early, the next few weeks are crazy.”
“There’s a solution, you know.” Jaime was back and leaning against the bar. “Wyatt can stay with you and then you can take turns getting up with him and letting him pee. A puppy is a little bit like having a baby—or so I’ve been told. You’ll probably need a small crate too, so he feels like he has a safe place to sleep.”
Wyatt felt his eyes widen and, quite honestly, was speechless. He glanced at Bennett; surely Jaime’s suggestion was going to be met with disdain.
“If you leave now, Southside Feed is open until nine and they sell all the doggy stuff you need.” She looked at Wyatt. “Go on, leave now while the leaving is good.”
Four
Bennett
“What just happened?” Bennett muttered as they climbed into his truck. He’d driven into town fully intending to make Wyatt repossess Wicket and instead he ended up with both Wicket and Wyatt on his hands. If he believed in weird woo-woo shit he’d wonder if maybe it was a full moon.
“It’s not a full moon, is it?” he asked, purely out of curiosity.
Wyatt shook his head. “No, I think we just experienced hurricane Jaime.” Funny how Wyatt knew the direction Bennett’s brain had gone.
Hurricane sounded about right. Bennett didn’t know the co-owners of Demeter’s all that well, although they did buy grapes from Zach occasionally. In the years he’d been back in Hollyridge—almost eight now—he’d spent as little time as possible in town. This had been a very special trip.
“The feed store is on Rose,” Wyatt said.
“I know where the feed store is,” Bennett grumbled. “I did grow up here after all.”
“I always forget. I never see you around town, only out at Caesura.” Wyatt made his statement sound more like a question, but Bennett didn’t bite. Nope.
Yes, there was a reason he didn’t flit around town. Wyatt, on the other hand, was a social butterfly, the exact opposite of Bennett. Ignoring Wyatt’s comment, Bennett started up his truck and pulled out of the parking lot, turning right toward Rose Street.
He’d driven the thirty miles into town to ditch Wicket and ten minutes later not only did he still have Wicket, but he’d acquired Wyatt. Wyatt who was somehow now staying at his place.
“I’ll drop you off at your apartment, you don’t need to come home with me. I can take care of the dog on my own.”
Suffocating silence filled the cab of his truck. Bennett risked a glance over at Wyatt.
“Did you hear me?” How could he not have heard him; he was two feet away.
“I heard you. I’m sure you meant I could run inside and let my mom know where I’ll be and pick up some clothes for harvest, not just leave me there and drive off with Wicket. Probably to leave him on a street corner somewhere to fend for himself.”
Bennett opened then closed his mouth. Wyatt actually sounded hurt. Wyatt was never anything but upbeat. The only times Bennett had seen him down was when he found out his mom was sick a couple of years ago. Wyatt unhappy was something Bennett hated.
His thoughts executed a U-turn; unhappy Wyatt was not what he wanted. Hold it. He could not want Wyatt. Wyatt was… a bright light in his life, Bennett reluctantly admitted to himself. Zach had brought him on for harvest about three years ago—who was he fooling, it had been almost exactly three years. Three years of knowing his happiest days were when Wyatt Reeser showed up to work at the vineyard.
Three years of taking himself in hand because the beauty that was Wyatt Reeser overwhelmed him on a daily basis. Three years of knowing he’d never be good enough for someone like Wyatt. Wyatt was young, only twenty-one, and had his whole life ahead of him; he could do anything. Bennett felt ancient in comparison.
He’d left Hollyridge at eighteen and returned a disgrace in his parents’ eyes. But he’d had nowhere else to go, nowhere else he wanted to be. One day shortly after his return to Hollyridge, not knowing what he was going to do with his life, he’d been driving aimlessly around when he’d passed by a patchy plot of land near the Columbia River. Zach’s ancient Jeep had been sitting on the side of the road with its hood raised and a defeated-looking guy leaning against the fender.
The rest was history. Zach hired him on the spot, and he’d helped Zach build the winery and vineyards from the ground up. as well as fixing the Jeep when needed. He had starte
d as general handy-man and now was vineyard manager—a title which meant he got up very early most days in the summer, worked eighteen-hour days during the crush, and was out checking on the vines in the winter as if they were his own babies.
“You do need clothes, right? We’re not going to disturb your mom?”
Wyatt let his too-long silence slide, thank fuck.
“She’ll probably be asleep; I’ll be quick and quiet, leave her a note.”
They made it to the feed store with half an hour to spare. The grizzled older man behind the front counter grunted at them when they pushed through the door, Wicket clasped in Wyatt’s arms. The pup seemed to have calmed down; at least he wasn’t wiggling quite as much.
“Puppy stuff?” Wyatt asked the man.
“Far back corner.”
Together they made their way through the slightly dusty aisles to the back of the store. There were two full rows of dog supplies and crates of all sizes were stacked against one wall.
Bennett quickly announced, “I’ll grab a crate; I don’t know anything about food and stuff.” Plus standing there next to Wyatt while he quietly crooned in Wicket’s ear—telling him what a good boy he was, how he was going to be safe and happy now, how nobody would hurt him ever again—gave Bennett a punch in the gut.
One small crate, a soft bed, a couple of chew toys, a leash, a bag of dog food (organic, of course), and food and water dishes later, Bennett was beginning to think pet ownership was a racket.