Timing

by Mary Calmes

  “Okay,” I placated.

  She pinched my side, but I didn’t even flinch.

  “God, Stef,” she said, running her hand down my torso. “Feel that stomach under that shirt; it’s hard as a rock.”

  “Not fair,” Kristin Barnes, one of her bridesmaids, said from the other side of the table. “If you’re over there feeling Stefan up, then we should all get a turn.”

  “Well, then, come here.”

  “Kris, leave him alone,” Ben ordered even as he made room for two other girls on either side of me.

  “You’re a big help,” I told him.

  There were hands in my hair, under the back of my shirt, on my chest, my biceps, and Kristin’s fingers sliding over my eyebrows. I was drowning in women.

  “Holy shit, Char.” Someone laughed. “Your best friend is gorgeous.”

  “I know.” She laughed. “I’ve been telling him since freshman year. With those eyes and that hot body, he could have whoever he wants.”

  “Oh, most definitely,” Kristin chimed in. “The boy is smokin’ hot.”

  I arched a brow for her, and she dissolved into giggles.

  “Do you dye your hair, Stefan?”

  Before I could answer, Charlotte did.

  “No, honey, that’s all natural. The gold tan, the dark green eyes, the dirty blond hair, that’s all him. He looks like that every day when he first rolls out of bed in the morning. The only thing he works at is the body, and he doesn’t work that hard, let me assure you.”

  “Hey,” I protested. “My gym workouts are exhausting.”

  “Please.” She put up her hand. “An hour a day out of your life is nothing, Joss.”

  “I think he’s right, Char,” Kristin agreed. “I mean, there are washboard abs here; I’m thinking he works hard.”

  “Oh yeah, lemme see.”

  “Enough.” Ben laughed, getting up and shooing all the girls away, taking a seat beside me. “Y’all should be ashamed of yourselves, groping a gay man. The boy ain’t even enjoyin’ it. Go grope Rand, he’s straight.”

  “Oh, I would love to get my hands—” Alison Ford, another bridesmaid, began.

  “Gross,” Charlotte groaned.

  “Or my mouth,” Kristin added, “on that man.”

  “Oh God, that’s so disgusting.”

  “He’s your brother, that’s why,” someone else said. “But Char, the man is absolutely edible.”

  “Yeah, but he’s way too serious and dark to mess with.”

  “‘Brooding’ is a good word.”

  They were all talking at once, and I just smiled. I loved girls. They were so much fun.

  “And he always looks mad,” another voice suggested.

  “But so hot.”

  “Any of us would do him, Char, but he seems… angry.”

  “Really angry,” Kristin agreed. “Which is why even when he looks like that, I wouldn’t go near that man on a bet.”

  “Me neither.”

  There was a chorus of agreement from the table.

  “Which is why we love Stef,” another of the bridesmaids put in. “He’s beautiful and sexy and the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my life.”

  “He’s not broken, he’s healthy.”

  “If you weren’t gay,” Alison said, “you’d belong to me, Stefan Joss.”

  “Bullshit,” Kristin assured her. “He’d be mine.”

  “You’re all high; I would have married him in college if he was straight.”

  “Pardon me?” Ben interrupted, and the table dissolved into laughter.

  “Oh honey,” Charlotte soothed him, getting up to take a seat in his lap.

  “Get off me,” he grumbled, much to everyone’s delight.

  When all the girls kissed me before getting up to go mingle, I turned my head to Ben.

  He let out a snort of laughter. “I wouldn’t be you on a bet.”

  I smiled at him as his hand rested between my shoulder blades.

  “And thanks for being good to Nicky. I know he ain’t your favorite guy, but he’s not a dick like Rand either.”

  “I know.”

  “But if you give him a chance, then so will Char, and that’s the truth.”

  “Sure,” I yawned, rubbing my eyes hard. “I think I’m gonna go up and unpack and maybe lay down for a while until the bachelor party. I don’t wanna pass out later.”

  “Bachelor party is tomorrow night, buddy. Tonight is just all of us goin’ out honky-tonkin’.”

  Good God.

  “Do you have boots?”

  “Ben.”

  “And a hat?”

  “I’ll just sit and drink, how’s that?”

  He nodded, smiling wide. “Sounds like a good plan,” he agreed, and I felt his hand slip off me. “I’ll get you up in time to eat in case you really pass out.”

  I nodded and rose up out of my chair, looking down at my friend. “I really am happy to be here, you know.”

  “I know.” He smiled up at me. “And I appreciate it too.”

  I squeezed his shoulder before I started for the grand staircase. Almost there, I was suddenly faced with Rand Holloway. I waited for the attack.

  He scowled.

  I crossed my arms.

  Seconds ticked by.

  His Technicolor blue eyes darkened.

  “Jesus, what?” I finally asked, already exasperated.

  “This is your greeting.”

  “You’re the one standing there not saying a word.”

  He nodded, and I threw up my hands, slipping around him to the stairs. I took them in threes and made it to the landing and around the corner.

  “Joss!”

  Rand was one of those guys who called everyone by their last name. I hated it because it had always seemed like such macho bullshit. I turned at my door and watched him jog down the hallway to me.

  “Listen,” he said, stopping in front of me. “I just want to call a truce for the next few days, all right? I’ve got enough on my mind without having to fight with—”

  “Great, perfect,” I cut him off. “You stay clear of me, and I’ll do the same.”

  His eyes searched mine, and as always I thought how beautiful they were. No matter my feelings for the man, he was, without a doubt, stunning. Just the Caribbean blue eyes were enough to melt me into a puddle on the floor. To say the man was hot was an understatement.

  “Anything else?”

  He turned and left without a backward glance.

  I flipped him off because I felt like it. That he had missed it because his back was turned really wasn’t the point.

  Inside my room, I shed my jacket and fell down on the huge four-poster bed. It was nice that Charlotte’s uncle Lincoln had volunteered his business to house the wedding party. I hated big hotels, since I traveled so much with my job. Being at a nice, quiet, charming B&B was a treat. As I closed my eyes, I wondered who had put Rand up to making nice with me. I would have to ask Charlotte if it was her when I woke up after my nap… later.

  Chapter 3

  LINDA CANTWELL asked the groom-to-be and all the groomsmen, plus me, to wear their tuxedos downstairs before dinner so she could see the problem that her son was talking about. She had felt that white tuxedos with tails would be elegant. Ben and Charlotte and the rest of the wedding party had insisted it was a very dated look. I was the last down because I overslept, and when I walked over to Ben, he groaned.

  “What?”

  “You look fuckin’ great.” He gestured at me.

  “Oh, now see,” Linda said to Charlotte, taking hold of my hand. “Stefan looks like he could have walked off the cover of a magazine.”

  “Linda, you can put Stefan in anything and he’ll look good; he doesn’t count,” she ranted, gesturing at her fiancé. “Look at your son, for crissakes.”

  “Hey!”

  Everyone’s laughter followed me back up the stairs.

  Later that night, I realized I was having fun just watching everyone dance, and Rand’
s absence made the evening much more enjoyable for me. Somehow or other, I had gotten roped into being a designated driver, along with Charlotte’s cousin, Weston. We had a long talk about TV shows and soccer and his job as a tax attorney. I zoned out a couple of times but managed to look interested. When Charlotte decided that all she wanted to do was be draped over me with her head on my shoulder, I let her. When Ben found us, we were in the back, sitting as we always did, me stretched out with my feet up and her in my lap, her legs between mine.

  “You know, you all look like you’re the ones getting married.”

  I smiled up at him, but I could tell from the steady breath on the side of my neck that his bride was asleep. She shifted position, and her lips opened against my throat.

  “If she bites you, I’m gonna smack her,” Ben grumbled. “That ain’t right.”

  “She’s asleep,” I told him.

  “Asleep or awake, that woman is crazy about you.”

  “It goes both ways.”

  He grunted. “Well, pick her up, boy, we gotta head home. The rest of us can sleep in, but don’t you hafta go meet that woman tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

  “You want me to come?”

  It was a really nice offer. “No, but thanks, really.”

  Back at the house, I carried Charlotte up to her room, and Ben followed after me. Once she was in bed, I ended up following him to his room and lying on the bed listening to him. We talked until two in the morning.

  WITH ONLY five hours of sleep, I hid my eyes behind my oversized Prada sunglasses when I came downstairs looking for coffee the following morning.

  “Little early for acting like a rock star, ain’t it?”

  Looking up, I saw Rand Holloway sitting at the kitchen table.

  “What? No snappy retort?”

  Even the intoxicating smell of coffee could not lure me any farther into that room with the beast. I turned around and walked out, heading for the front door.

  “Joss!”

  I kept walking and slammed the door on my way out. My car was parked at the end of the large, gravel-covered circular drive, and I had almost reached it when there was a hand on my bicep. I was spun around so fast I almost lost my balance.

  “Jesus, can you wait?” he barked at me.

  Realizing it was Rand, I yanked my arm free, again almost falling down.

  He grabbed the same arm and jerked me forward so hard that I had to put a hand on his chest to keep from slamming into him.

  “What the hell?” I snarled at him, twisting free, taking several steps backward.

  “You never listen.”

  “Go away.” I sighed, looking up at him, realizing how close he was now that he had bent toward me. We were almost nose to nose.

  The muscles in his jaw clenched. “Where are you going?”

  “Why is that your business?”

  He breathed in through his nose.

  “Seriously?”

  He pushed the cowboy hat back on his forehead, telling me, without benefit of words, that he would wait all day if I didn’t answer.

  “I have an appointment to see a lady about a ranch.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Just go inside,” I told him, trying to get around him.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  He didn’t say, just stood there staring at me.

  “I hafta go.”

  “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.”

  “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?”

  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 a
lternatives 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 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?”