by Elle Keaton
“No, and most of the time things are great, amazing, awesome. But…”
“It sounds to me like you need to do some talking.”
Wyatt stared at his employer and sort-of mentor, slapping his hand over his heart. “Are you telling me to talk more? I thought I talked too much.”
Now Jaime shook her head, smiling. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. When Dag and I got together it was similar. I’d had my eye on him for ages and then we were at a party together and I went home with him. At first, I thought ‘whoo hoo, my work here is done,’ but of course it wasn’t. It took me a while to figure out that the number his first wife had done on him meant I had my work cut out for me. But it was worth it.”
“What did you do?”
Jaime smiled over her shoulder at her husband Dag. He was, as usual, behind the tasting bar, pouring a taste for a customer and patiently answering questions. He caught her look and winked, mouthing “love you”. The exchange made Wyatt’s romantic heart nearly melt into goo.
“I figured out Dag reminded me of this rescue dog we had back when I was a kid. The dog lived in the woods behind our house. Someone, who is hopefully now burning in hell, had abandoned him. Anyway, we started feeding him. He’d come to the back door and eat, but he refused to come inside. I started sitting outside with him while he ate, just talking, and eventually, he let me pet him—lord, he was an ugly dog. We bribed a vet to come out and take a look at him and she declared him healthy. The dinner and chat went on for a few months and then one day I stood to go inside like I always did, and he just followed me.” She shrugged. “He finally realized that we were okay, but it took a lot of time and patience.”
“Are you telling the dog story again?” Dag’s deep voice floated over Jaime’s shoulder.
She grinned and looked over at him. “Maybe.”
“I love being compared to a dog,” he said, sort of grumpily.
“I’m not!!! I’m trying to help Wyatt with Bennett.”
“Ah, the matchmaker strikes again. Since Rory and Brett and then Zach and Jeff, Jaime is riding high.” Dag cocked his head. “What’s up with Bennett? I don’t know him that well,” he pointed across the tasting room with his chin, “but those are his parents.”
Wyatt did his best not to whip around and stare. The older couple standing and sipping wine at one of the tall tables pushed against one wall were nothing like he’d imagined Bennett’s parents would be. They were… posh. The woman was angular and thin, her steel gray hair cut into a steep bob, the perfect curve ending right at her chin. The man was tall and definitely who Bennett got his looks from, but there the resemblance ended. His shoulders were stooped as if he spent a lot of time hunched over reading or at a computer. He wore a Palouse College sweatshirt, while the woman had a Palouse College windbreaker over her shoulders.
“They teach at the college,” Dag said.
Bennett was so… large, and unassuming too, but he had a presence that Wyatt at least couldn’t deny. His skin was tanned from being outdoors all the time, his hands rough from hard work, his hair had light streaks in it from the sun. When Bennett spoke, people listened. It seemed to Wyatt that Bennett’s parents had created someone larger than themselves, not only physically but in his very essence.
“Huh,” was all Wyatt said.
“They come in once a month or so. I only know that’s who they are because once they were here when Bennett was delivering some cases of wine for Zach.”
“Yeah?”
Dag shrugged. “They didn’t talk much. I had the impression that Bennett would rather have bamboo stuck under his fingernails than interact with his parents.”
As Wyatt drove back to Bennett’s that night he thought about Bennett’s parents and what Dag had said. It was hard for him to relate to parents who didn’t get along with their kids, or care for their children. His mom was the single most supportive person in his life. Oh, he’d gotten in his share of trouble, but his mom had always been there for him.
When he’d come out to her at the young age of ten, he may not have wanted to have sex with anyone yet, but he knew full well he was not interested in Wendy Parrish or Melony Atkins the same way his boy schoolmates were.
“Thank you for telling me, mi corazón. I love you,” she’d said after giving him a kiss on the head.
A few years later she told Wyatt she’d known he was gay when he was as young as four. They were in Target shopping and stopped in the entertainment aisle, where a movie poster for Lord of the Rings was displayed, and out of the blue, he’d announced he was marrying Orlando Bloom.
Wyatt had never been given a reason to question his mother’s love.
Bennett’s front door opened as Wyatt was climbing out of his truck. He was struck, as he often was, by just how gorgeous Bennett was. Slipping past his man, he stepped into the house.
“You’re up. I thought you’d be in bed by now,” he commented.
They still had a couple more days of field work before Zach declared the harvest season officially over, although the main crew had been released.
Bennett ran a hand through his unruly blond hair—he hadn’t had time to get it cut to its usual short length in the past weeks. Wicket greeted Wyatt enthusiastically, barking and spinning in circles like the ridiculous animal he was.
“Yeah, my mom called a while ago and now I’m feeling restless, I guess.”
“That’s a coincidence, your parents stopped in at Demeter’s tonight.”
“You know them?” Bennett looked slightly shocked.
“No, but Dag does, and he pointed them out to me.”
“Mmm.” Bennett responded in that way he did when he actually had a lot to say but the words just weren’t there.
“Let’s put Wicket here to bed so we can go to bed too,” Wyatt said.
Wyatt picked up the squirming dog and pressed his face against Wicket’s wiry fur. The puppy twisted around and managed to lick him several times on the face before Wyatt set him back down.
“Do you mind putting him to bed while I take a quick shower?” he asked.
Bennett’s bathroom was nothing special, Wyatt supposed, but for a kid who’d grown up living in tiny apartments it was enormous. The clawfoot tub with the shower surround was sublime. He turned on the shower spray and quickly stripped off his clothing, leaving it in a pile in the corner; he always slept better if he showered before bed.
He was soaping himself up when the bathroom door opened and Bennett came inside. The shower curtain was pulled aside and there stood Bennett, naked and needy. Already erect, his thick red cock pointed directly at Wyatt like a dowsing stick.
“Can I get in with you?”
Wyatt snapped out of his stare. “Fuck yes. Get in here right now.”
Bennett climbed in with Wyatt. The tub was big, six feet long, but the two of them together took up all the space. And maybe all the oxygen too.
“Turn around, I just want to hold you,” Bennett whispered.
Wyatt turned around so the spray hit him in the chest while Bennett moved to press against Wyatt’s back. It felt perfect, Bennett’s erection snug against his ass cheeks. Wyatt widened his stance so Bennett’s cock could slide between his legs.
“Fuck, Bennett.”
“Yeah? You like this?”
“Bennett, I like everything you do.” Wyatt wiggled his ass against Bennett, encouraging him to go further.
“What am I going to do, Wyatt?” he whispered into the shell of Wyatt’s ear.
“What do you mean?” Because suddenly Wyatt wondered what they were talking about here, sex or something more? And he thought about Bennett waiting for him, opening the front door, as well as what Dag had said about Bennett’s parents.
“When you leave?”
Wyatt almost missed Bennett’s words. The shower suddenly seemed deafening, but he didn’t miss them he heard them, loud and clear.
Squashing the feeling of panic deep in his gut, he replied, “Why would I leave?”
/>
“Why would you stay?” Bennett’s voice was hoarse.
“Bennett?” Wyatt said.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Can I turn around? There’s something I need to tell you.”
Bennett didn’t answer immediately and for a minute the only sound was the water hitting the shower curtain. Bennett’s broad chest rose and fell against Wyatt’s back. Then Bennett’s strong hands were on Wyatt’s hips, turning him to face Bennett.
Wyatt lifted his hands to cup Bennett’s face; his cheeks were rough with stubble and water dripped off his nose.
Looking directly into those blue eyes, the color of the sky on a hot summer day, Wyatt began. “Bennett Meyer, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave. I love you, Bennett.” Maybe the shower wasn’t the most romantic place to tell Bennett he loved him, but these were desperate times.
“When I say, ‘I love you’, I mean it in all the ways I know you, all the ways I love you. I love that you can’t talk before coffee in the morning, I love that you don’t cook but have every cooking contraption known to mankind. I love how kind you are, how you listen to people and hear what they aren’t saying out loud—like when Ray Martinez’s kid was sick, and you gave him the day off but still paid him. I love that you try to watch TV with me at night but fall asleep—every single time. I love that you love Wicket but won’t admit it.” Wyatt stopped for a minute. Bennett was staring at him, eyes wide as if Wyatt were speaking in tongues, so he decided to keep his list going. “I love that you think your Chevy is better than my Ford when we both know my truck is the winner. I love that when you think I won’t notice, you look at me like I’m something special. I love that—”
Bennett’s mouth came crashing down on his, as if he were going to devour Wyatt. When Wyatt parted his lips, Bennett pushed his tongue inside, greedily licking across his palate, tangling with Wyatt’s tongue.
Wyatt’s own erection, which had been on a sort of low simmer, hardened against Bennett’s hip. Letting one of his hands fall from Bennett’s face to his ass, he tugged Bennett even closer. It was a damn good thing Bennett had installed those no-slip things on the floor of the tub because otherwise they’d both be on their asses.
One of them moaned. Bennett shoved his free hand between them and began to jack their erections together. The sensation was almost too much for Wyatt to bear—Bennett’s cock hard and slick against his own, the shower, Bennett eating into his mouth, all of it. A spark at the base of Wyatt’s spine bloomed, and with a grunt he thrust against Bennett. Fuck, he was coming, and Bennett was coming too, his big body shuddering with his release.
“My fucking God,” whispered Wyatt when he could breathe again, leaning against Bennett, letting him hold them both up.
The shower water started to cool off, and Bennett, still with one arm around him, pulled away.
“The hot water tank probably isn’t big enough for this kind of stuff,” he grunted.
“Maybe we need to fix that,” Wyatt said.
They were tucked into Bennett’s king size bed, the alarm set for five the next morning. He snuggled into Bennett’s side, head resting on his shoulder and one knee slung over Bennett’s thigh.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Wyatt asked.
The bedroom was dark, and the only sounds were the wind buffeting the house and Wicket turning around in his crate at the foot of the bed. Now that he was trained Wyatt figured it wouldn’t be long before he was sleeping on the bed with them.
Bennett took a deep breath and released it in a gusty sigh, Wyatt loved how it felt under his cheek. Another thing to love—the way Bennett felt against him.
“No. But I will.” His voice was quiet. Wyatt had to strain to hear him.
“You don’t have to.”
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m pretty sure I love you too.”
Wyatt’s heart seemed to skip a beat at his words, “That’s… good, right?”
Bennett’s arm tightened where he had it wrapped around Wyatt’s body. “It is good, you goof. It’s just that my mom called today and all I can say is my relationship with my parents is complicated, it makes me tired thinking about it. And you deserve so much more than I can give you.”
“Are you out to them?” Wyatt wanted to argue that he was the one with nothing to offer. A townie who never wanted to live anywhere else but Hollyridge, who hadn’t wanted to go to college. Who’d spent an awful lot of his childhood watching Golden Girls reruns with his mother. All he had to give Bennett was his heart.
“I suppose.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t exactly fit the idea of who they think a child of theirs should be. Being gay, that’s just one of many ways I’ve failed them.”
“How is that possible? You are amazing!”
Bennett chuckled. “Wyatt, I think you belong to an exclusive club of one.”
“I—Bennett,” Wyatt growled.
“Both my parents teach at Palouse College.” Wyatt knew it was something like that with what they’d been wearing at Demeter’s. “My dad is an English professor and my mom teaches chemistry and physics, but she also researches laser particles and complicated stuff like that. I do none of those things. I think my dad would be okay with me, but I don’t even like to read. You know how you hear about those kids who grew up nerdy, skinny, and too uncoordinated to play any sports, whose folks were disappointed in them?”
Wyatt nodded.
“I’m like the opposite. I’ve always been super active and wanted to play sports, go camping, hiking, that sort of thing. School? Never my strong point. But I tried because it meant so much to them. I was glad to go away to college, but I failed there too. Middle of sophomore year a guy I was friends with suggested I get tested for dyslexia. This was something teachers had asked my parents to do while I was living at home, but heaven forbid their child have a learning disability. They wouldn’t even consider it.
“Long and short, I am severely dyslexic and it’s kind of too late for me to relearn everything in a way that makes sense to my brain. Reading is horrible, it takes me forever. Besides, I don’t need to read a lot to ride a bike or climb a mountain.”
“Or have sex, thank fuck!” Wyatt added.
Bennett chuckled again, his deep rumble echoing through Wyatt’s body.
“So, you can’t read? Or it’s hard for you to read?” Wyatt asked. He wasn’t a big reader but couldn’t imagine not reading at all.
“Reading more than a few pages takes fucking forever and gives me a massive headache. My parents still refuse to believe I’m dyslexic. Being gay doesn’t seem to matter, I came out to them when I was eighteen—or maybe they just ignore that part of me because I’ve never brought anyone home. Not being smart enough, that’s where they draw the line. An uncrossable line, in my case.”
“That’s like… the worst thing I’ve ever heard! Being dyslexic doesn’t mean you’re stupid,” Wyatt exclaimed.
“It is what it is.” Bennett shrugged, making Wyatt’s head wobble. “Nothing’s going to change. My folks aren’t suddenly going to change their opinion that I just never tried hard enough.”
Wyatt let that sink in for a bit, the fact that Bennett’s parents doubted his efforts. Bennett was one of the hardest-working people Wyatt knew. He was first out to the vineyard in the mornings and last to leave in the evenings. And even though he downplayed it, Bennett had soaked up a lot of knowledge from Zach about grapes and winemaking. Zach trusted Bennett to make his own decisions about grape quality, what grapes were ready to pick, and which needed a few more days on the vine.
“Why did your mom call anyway?” Wyatt asked.
“There’s a family dinner this weekend. My perfect younger brother is home for the holidays. It’s going to be awful; it always is.”
“What’s your brother’s name? What’s he like? How much younger is he than you?”
&n
bsp; “Let me see, so many questions.” Bennett planted a kiss on Wyatt’s temple. “Elliot is six years younger than me, but he graduated high school a year early. He’s very smart, top of the class, that sort of thing.” Bennett didn’t sound jealous, he sounded proud of his brother.
“But what’s he really like? He’s more than grades, right? Maybe you should connect with him before you see your parents? I bet it’s been a long time since you guys hung out, it might be nice to see him before you have to go to dinner.”
Not that Wyatt was the smartest guy on the planet, but he’d bet his left nut that the uptight couple he’d seen at Demeter’s from afar did nothing to encourage closeness between their sons. He could be wrong, but from what Bennett had just shared, he had a feeling he wasn’t.
Eight
Bennett
Bennett stared at the contact list in his phone. His brother’s number was right there, easy to call. That is—if he hadn’t changed it. Taking a deep breath, feeling a little as if he was on the high dive, Bennett selected it and pressed the Call button.
A voice deeper than he expected said, “Hello?”
It had been a long time since Bennett had heard his brother’s voice.
“Uh, hi, Elliot, it’s Bennett.”
There was the tiniest silence, just long enough for Bennett to wonder if Elliot was going to hang up on him.
“Oh, hi, Bennett, what’s up?” Elliot’s voice was both cautious and curious.
Curious, as in, why are you calling me? Cautious, likely because he and Elliot had never really had the same friends, even before college they hadn’t been the kind of brothers who did things together. Bennett had been too busy trying to keep shit from collapsing and who knew what Elliot had been up to.
“Um.” God, this was hard. “I wanted to know if you wanted to meet up for beers or something before dinner with the folks.” He rushed his words out, he’d gone this far he might as well get all of them out. “I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?”