Hard Ride (Clean Slate Ranch)

by A. M. Arthur

  Derrick blinked at him several times from his kneeling position before a strange kind of wonder softened his face. “Damn, you’re right. I really would just rather go out to dinner as a family. Or hell, even us all getting together at Mom and Dad’s for one of Mom’s big spaghetti dinners. She makes awesome from-scratch meatballs.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  “And it’ll give you a chance to meet my folks before the first wedding next month. Third weekend in May.”

  “And your birthday is...?”

  “May fourth.”

  Slater’s lips twitched with humor. “How often do you get greeted with ‘happy birthday and may the fourth be with you’?”

  Derrick snorted. “A lot more in recent years, especially on social media. You a Star Wars fan?”

  “Yup. Between me and some friends on the same block, we wore out our video rental place’s VHS copies of the original trilogy. Dad took me to see the theatrical re-release back in ’97 and then finally bought me my own VHS set. It was pretty awesome, but I wasn’t a fan of all the changes Lucas made.”

  “Sounds like you and your dad are close.”

  Slater didn’t like talking about his family, but Derrick’s comment seemed genuine, rather than leading, so he didn’t change the subject right away. “We were when I was growing up. My mom left us when I was young, so it was just us two for a while, until Dad met my stepmom, Kim. Then I did the usual rebellious teenage shit, and Dad and I kind of grew apart. We don’t talk much but we’re still in contact.”

  He’s the only way I know what’s going on with my own kid.

  “I’m sorry you guys aren’t close anymore,” Derrick said softly. “My parents have always been great and supportive, even when I came out as bi. I mean, they weren’t thrilled about that, but they didn’t do the whole ‘it’s a phase’ crap some of my other relatives pulled. I also think it helps that Conrad is married with a kid, and probably a few more in the future.”

  “Less pressure on you to settle down?”

  “From my parents, anyway. Between them, they have a collection of seven siblings, who also have spouses and kids, so I have a lot of cousins. That’s why you’re my buffer against all the women in my family who will want to partner me up or marry me off to some friend of a friend.”

  “Buffer. Gotcha.”

  “Buffer and friend.” Derrick’s eyes flickered to Slater’s lips, then back up. But he seemed to recall Slater’s declaration that he didn’t kiss. Not hookups, anyway.

  Slater did kind of want to kiss Derrick, which confused the hell out of him. He also wanted to keep this as platonic as possible, so Slater cleared his throat. “So about that stool from your neighbor?”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll pop across the foyer and be back in five.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  With a wink, Derrick stood and headed for the apartment door. Some of the lingering sexual tension faded the moment Derrick was out of proximity, but damn. This entire afternoon had been way too easy. Too...nice. But he could not get attached to Derrick as anything other than a friend.

  Period.

  * * *

  Derrick closed the apartment door and then leaned against it for a few moments, desperate to catch his breath and keep his half-chub from getting any bigger. Kneeling next to Slater, whose long, muscled body was stretched out on his futon like a feast, had given Derrick all kinds of dirty thoughts. Thoughts he’d kept completely to himself, not wanting to jinx this before it truly began.

  Besides, Slater had just had surgery and was probably on pain meds, and Derrick didn’t want to accidentally take advantage of the guy. Ever. But the attraction was still there, damn it, and Derrick needed to keep better control over his dick.

  “You lock yourself out or something?” Orry Thompson was perched on one of the sitting chairs, phone in hand, but his attention was on Derrick. Orry lived upstairs with twin brother George, and they didn’t hang downstairs as much as some of the other residents.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Derrick wasn’t about to share his guy problems with Orry, and Orry seemed content to shrug it off and go back to his phone. Business as usual.

  Derrick strode across the foyer and knocked on Dez’s door. Morgan answered with a wide grin. “Hey, dude, what’s up?” Morgan asked. “Your roommate here yet?”

  “Yeah, he’s settling in. You remember I said he busted his ankle? I was hoping you guys had a padded footstool or something he can use to keep his ankle elevated.”

  “Sure, we’ve got something. Come in.”

  The sheer clutter of the place made Derrick’s skin prickle with unease the instant Morgan shut the door. Their apartment had a similar open floor plan but also included the home’s original kitchen, so the bedroom was right by the front door. Organized chaos was the best Derrick could do as a description, but he did see a couch and TV in the mess.

  Something whirred briefly behind a mound of clothing, and then Dez’s head popped up. She was doing something on the sewing machine. “Hey, Derrick.”

  Derrick returned the greeting, and Morgan explained his visit.

  “Oh, yeah, what about that green stool in the bedroom?” Dez said. “If you put a pillow on it, it should be high enough for his ankle. Especially if he’s on the futon.”

  Morgan disappeared into their bedroom.

  “Working on something new?” Derrick asked politely.

  “Yep. An online friend asked me to turn a bunch of her old college and sorority tees into a quilt for her bed, so I’m working on that.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “Yup. It turns shirts you’ll probably never wear again into something useable, instead of them taking up space in a dresser or closet.”

  “Huh. Cool.” He learned something new every day.

  Morgan returned with a hideous wooden stool with a lime-green, cracked leather cushion. Two out of six upholstery buttons were missing. But it had sturdy legs and would do the job. “Here you go, dude. I hope your friend’s leg heals fast.”

  “Thanks. He’s pretty exhausted from all the moving around today, but maybe you guys can stop over tomorrow night and meet him.”

  “We’ll do that.”

  “Cool. Thanks again for the stool.”

  “Not a problem. Let us know if we can help.”

  Derrick nodded and left, grateful for his generous neighbors. Orry was still on the chair, on his phone, and he didn’t look up when Derrick passed him again. Opened his own apartment door.

  Slater was snoring softly, flat out now and head on a pillow. Derrick smiled at his friend, then quietly put the stool down by one end table. It was strange having another person asleep in his living room like that, but he’d have to get used to someone else being in his space. Derrick had some work to catch up on, anyway, so he pulled out his laptop and let his “boyfriend” sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Slater woke in a dim room to the sound of someone...typing? The nurses didn’t type shit in his room, so what the—oh, yeah. Derrick’s place. He tried to sit up but his stiff body and sore ribs protested, and he let out a pained groan, annoyed at himself for falling asleep in a strange place—and for being unable to move.

  “Slater?” Derrick appeared quickly, his face creased with concern. “You okay? Do you need a pill or something?”

  “Yeah. Forgot to take one before I dozed off. Ow.” The throb in his ankle reminded him why taking his pills on time was a very good idea. He’d have to program reminders into his phone or something.

  “Which one?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay.” Derrick disappeared and then reappeared with both pill bottles. He read the names and compared them to his discharge paperwork. “So looks like you get the ibuprofen on the regular, but the oxy is only for the first few days for intense pain.”

&
nbsp; That sounded right. “Pain’s pretty intense.”

  Derrick handed him the oxy tablet and the warm cola to wash it down. Slater managed it while still mostly flat on his back. “You just wanna lay there for a while?” Derrick asked. “Until the pill kicks in?”

  “Yeah, I think so. This was a lot easier in an elevated hospital bed.”

  “I bet.”

  Slater’s bladder gave a pang and he groaned again. “Shit, I have to piss.”

  “Then let me help you sit up.”

  Helplessness was not something Slater enjoyed, but Derrick helping him sit up was far less embarrassing than waking up in the hospital with a catheter up his dick. He’d demanded that thing be removed, preferring to piss in a damned bottle until he proved he could get to the bathroom without a dizzy spell.

  No dizziness today, thank fuck, but his body protested every single action, especially his ribs. Nothing could be done for bruised ribs, though, besides time and patience, and he did not look forward to weeks of this.

  Better than being dead. Or worse.

  His injuries could have been far more devastating. Anything from permanent paralysis to multiple broken limbs. So Slater could suck it up and deal with his aches and pains. Nothing was keeping him from seeing Rachel graduate in June.

  He hadn’t really explored the apartment beyond the futon, but there also wasn’t a lot to see besides dated furniture and a tiny kitchen. The appliances were clean, if a little old, and he got curious. “How long ago was this place renovated into apartments?”

  “About eight years, I think,” Derrick replied. He had one arm around Slater’s waist, and the warmth seeped through Slater’s shirt as Derrick reached for the crutches. Got them under Slater’s pits. “I’ve only lived here for about two years. Moved the summer after my ranch vacation, actually, to be closer to work. The landlord offered to replace the appliances but they work just fine, so I didn’t see the point in spending the money.”

  “Got it.”

  Slater hobbled his way toward the door Derrick indicated, Derrick following along behind as if he expected Slater to topple over. The bathroom was small and decorated in white subway tile and laminate flooring. A white pedestal sink and medicine cabinet. The only bits of color in the room was the vinyl palm-tree-covered shower curtain hiding the tub, and two green floor mats. Behind the door, he spotted a metal rack full of towels and toilet paper rolls.

  “Nice,” Slater said. Definitely bigger than his bathroom back at the ranch. When Derrick didn’t move from the open doorway, Slater quirked an eyebrow at him. “You gonna hold it for me or just watch?”

  Derrick laughed out loud. “Sorry, man,” he said and pulled the door shut.

  Chuckling, Slater did manage to relieve himself while standing and without banging his ankle around. Washing his hands was more of a challenge. Task complete, he couldn’t help peeking behind the shower curtain to inspect the tub. Clean with a single bottle of all-in-one shampoo and body wash. Didn’t surprise him with how basic the rest of Derrick’s apartment was, but he was surprised by the shower seat inside the tub.

  “Dude.”

  Derrick was leaning on the wall across from the bathroom door when Slater crutched his way out. “You bought a shower seat for me?”

  “Sure. They aren’t that expensive. Plus, my showerhead is detachable so it’ll be the easiest way for you to shower without splashing a lot of water on the floor.” Derrick’s eyebrows wiggled. “Unless you’d rather I give you sponge baths.”

  “No, thank you. Plenty of those in the hospital. And I’ll pay you back for the chair.”

  “No sweat.”

  “How long did I sleep, anyway?” As Slater hobbled back to the futon, he realized the apartment wasn’t dim because Derrick had drawn the curtains shut. It was dark outside.

  “It’s after seven.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I let you nap, because I figured you didn’t get a lot of good sleep in the hospital, what with nurses in and out of your room looking at things.”

  “You’re right. Thank you.” Slater felt wide-awake for the first time in days. “I don’t sleep well in general, which I’m sure you figured out by now.”

  “Most people who do aren’t in home gyms working out at three in the morning. Are you hungry? I snacked on some leftover Chinese earlier, but I can heat something up.”

  Slater’s stomach wasn’t grumbling, but it did feel somewhat queasy after taking that pill on an empty stomach. “I should eat something. Nothing too greasy or heavy.”

  “I’ve got leftover steamed rice and one egg roll left. If you just mix the cabbage with the rice and don’t eat the egg roll wrapper, it shouldn’t be too heavy.”

  “Cool, that sounds good.” Instead of the futon, Slater aimed for the hideous dinette set and sank into one of the cushioned chairs.

  Derrick brought over an equally hideous green stool and helped him prop up his foot on an extra pillow that hid some of the horrid lime color.

  “Who’s your decorator?” Slater deadpanned.

  “Table and chairs came with the place, and the stool is from my neighbors. Water or soda?”

  He really hated being waited on like this, but no way could he manage getting himself a drink while on crutches. It was also kind of...nice for a change. “Water, thanks.”

  Derrick fetched him a glass of water from a filtered pitcher, then went about heating up leftovers. “Fork or chopsticks?”

  “Fork.”

  Soon, a steaming pile of white rice and egg roll innards landed in front of him, and it smelled good. Really good.

  “Want any sort of sauce? I have a whole packet drawer.”

  “Packet drawer?”

  “Yeah, you know how every bag of takeout comes with some kind of packet sauce, like duck sauce, ketchup, even little packs of Parmesan? I keep it all.”

  “Got it.” Slater was tempted to add red pepper flake but didn’t want to risk his stomach rebelling after such a heavy, spicy lunch. Puking all over Derrick’s kitchen floor on the first day was not a good look for a new roommate. “Soy sauce?”

  Derrick opened a drawer near the sink and tossed two packets of soy onto the table. He even brought Slater a goddamn paper napkin from some delivery place or another. “I feel like I should tip you for your service,” Slater said.

  “I don’t mind being a bit more hands-on your first few days here. Once you get better on the crutches, you’ll be able to do more for yourself.”

  “Right.” It made perfect sense but Slater didn’t have to like it.

  “So are you a morning bather or a nighttime bather?”

  Slater tore a packet of soy sauce open and squeezed it over his rice bowl. “Usually at night, so I don’t go to bed smelling like horse and shit, especially if it was my turn to muck the stalls. I can’t wait to shower the hospital smell off me.” He didn’t smell all that medicinal but the way Derrick’s eyebrows jumped amused him.

  “We can put that on the agenda after you eat.”

  “You can fix me dinner, Derrick, but I don’t need you to scrub my back, too.”

  Derrick’s dark eyes pinned him in place. “I promise not to look while I help you onto the shower seat.”

  Slater was too damned sore and tired to figure out if Derrick was teasing or flirting, and he really didn’t need either tonight. “I can manage on my own, thanks. Wait, is my suitcase still in the trunk?”

  “Nah, I brought it in while you were sleeping. I left it on top of the bedroom dresser, unzipped, for easier access.”

  “Bedroom, huh?”

  Derrick shrugged. “No matter where we end up sleeping or not, I didn’t figure you’d want your clothes strewn around the living room.”

  “Thanks. Did you, uh, look in the box?” Slater hated asking but that was his private stuff.

  “Nop
e. You’re taking a risk moving in with me, too, Slater, and I won’t pry into your personal belongings. As long as there’s not a gun or anything in there.”

  “Nah, nothing like that. Just mementos from my old life before the ranch.”

  “Got it. So I do have a question for you that I’ve been dying to ask.”

  Slater paused with a fork of rice and cabbage by his mouth. “Okay.”

  “Where did you get the nickname Slater?”

  Prison, and I am so not going into that with you.

  “About ten years ago,” Slater said, picking his words carefully, “a guy I knew said I looked like that Lopez guy from Saved by the Bell. My dimples, I guess, because I didn’t see the resemblance. So he started calling me Slater and it stuck.”

  Derrick tilted his head. “Yeah, I can kind of see the dimples and the dark hair, but other than that, like you said there isn’t really a resemblance. I like it. You look more like a Slater than a Kendall, or even a Ken.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck my mother was thinking with that first name.”

  “Your mom named you? What is it with women and strange names? We have upstairs neighbors. Twins named Orry and George Thompson, and their mom was a huge fan of this TV miniseries called North and South. The American one, not the British one, and the twins are named after the male heroes of that show.”

  Slater had vague memories of the miniseries. His stepmom, Kim, had watched it on some cable channel or another when he was younger, and he’d watched the war scenes. The romance stuff had bored the crap out of him, but Patrick Swayze had looked damned fine on a horse. So had the guy who played George. “Do you like them?” Slater asked. “The twins, I mean?”

  “They’re okay. Pretty much keep to themselves, so I don’t know much about them or their story, and I only got the North and South connection because Dez said something to them when they first moved in.”

  “How did Sophie and Conrad come up with the name Mia? Is it strange to you?”

  Derrick grinned. “Nah, I love that name. No big story that I know of, they both liked it and agreed on it for a girl.”