by Jodi Payne
“Yeah, save me a bar stool. I’ll wiggle on that.” Okay. Okay, cool. He could handle that. “I’d love to go see things with you on Monday. Please.”
“You do the easy stuff on your own then…museums and things. And I’ll take you to the stuff it’s easier to get lost doing on Monday. Is that good?” Tyler’s voice was…enthusiastic. Cool.
“Sounds perfect, yes. I love the idea of discovering new things.” He loved to bring stories home to his girls.
The server wandered over as Tyler pushed the last onion ring in his direction. “Can I get you guys anything else?”
“Tyler?” He intended to get him some ice cream; maybe Tyler had time to come with him. Hell, if he could watch Tyler lap at an ice cream cone, he could fantasize for weeks.
“I’m good. Thank you.” Tyler pulled a wallet from his back pocket.
“Hey, I invited, it’s my treat.” He handed her his card. He was more than capable, and this sweet man was struggling. “Would you like to take a walk, go have an ice cream, or do you need to go?”
Tyler blushed, but didn’t look embarrassed, just touched. He looked at his watch. “We could walk toward work. Then I’d have time for an ice cream.”
“Perfect. Are y’all usually swamped on Saturdays? It seems like a place for regulars, you know?” He had a honkytonk that he went to, but not often. Usually he went to Maria’s at just after six for breakfast.
“Not swamped. We get nuts almost every Friday night. Saturdays are super busy but not like Friday. The rest of the week it’s just a neighborhood place, a very welcoming one. There’s always room at the bar for everyone.” Tyler stood, tucked his book under one arm, and added a couple of bucks to the tip. “Not because you didn’t put enough. I just always do that. Tips are a thank you.”
“Fair enough. Deb waited tables all through high school and college. It’s important. She was very, very clear about that.” He had always worked. Always. But it had usually been for himself. Or his daddy. Or gramps.
“So do the girls look like her?” Tyler stepped past him as he held the door. “Or more like you?”
“Soph looks like her—blonde and blue eyes. Emma is all black hair and gray eyes like me. Both of them are tall, where Deb was short and curvy. In that, they look like my sister, Rachel.”
Tyler nodded. “Did Rachel remarry?”
“Yeah, nine years ago? The boys were just kids, and it was tough for a bit, but he wooed her. He was her personal assistant, believe it or not.” And Alan had made it to where she didn’t want to say no.
Tyler led them across the street. “That’s good. That’s good for her. I’m glad she’s okay. And you’re okay.”
“I hope you’ll be okay too. I imagine it’s early days for that, but a man can hope.” He knew that Tyler said they weren’t lovers, but there had been love there, and it was lost now. “It took a long, long time before I could even…pretend to be alive for anything but my girls and my ranch.” Those two things didn’t care if he hurt.
“Time. That’s what they say, I know. I just have to figure it out. I’m keeping really busy, so that helps a lot. Do you like soft ice cream or hard?”
“I like ice cream. All of it.” He glanced at Tyler. “Busy helps. I swear, between the girls and the critters and the drovers—they were the reason I got up of a morning.”
“I’m at the bar. If I wasn’t taking you around on Monday I’d be there helping with inventory, even though I’m off. I don’t like just rattling around our—my—the apartment.”
“I hear that. I have ten thousand things that need doing. I’ll hit the ground in Houston around five Tuesday, pick up the girls around seven, and listen to cowboys and little ones for the next few hours.” He grinned and shook his head. “Then I have to hire someone to watch girls and house for a few hours a day, check my calves, and take a ton of laundry to the cleaners.”
“Work is never done? Sounds like you’re a kick-ass dad though.” Tyler pointed. “Ice cream.”
“I try, and God no. Work is eternal. Good thing I like it.” He thought it was a good place, a healing place.
“Damn good thing.” They went inside and Tyler ordered himself a strawberry cone. “Sugar cones are the best.”
He tipped his hat. “I’ll have the same, please, ma’am, and a bottle of water. Ice cream makes me thirsty.”
“Strawberry. Also the best.” Tyler smiled, looking so much younger when he was relaxed. “This is on me.”
“Well, thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” He took the water, the cold water good on the cut on his hand. He hadn’t even thought about it, all afternoon.
Tyler took his cone and held it out to him. “For you.”
He bowed and took it, tongue dragging along the sweet cream. “Uhn…”
Oh, that was yummy.
Tyler’s head tilted slightly. “Looks good.”
“Yours, sir.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Tyler took his and licked around the bottom scoop.
Oh, that was pretty as all get out. Yeah, he could watch that for hours.
“Ice cream was a good idea.” Tyler’s eyes were tracking him as they left the shop. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s delicious. Thank you very much. My first New York City ice cream.” He knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t help it. He was into Tyler, in a basic balls going heavy kind of way.
“Really? All these years coming here and you…right. This is your first year venturing out. You’re a tourist virgin.” Tyler’s tongue swirled around the cone. “Mmm.”
“Second, and it took me a ton of time last year to figure out the subway.” That did not work for him. At all. Matthew didn’t hold much with enclosed spaces.
“I’m always surprised that the subway is complicated to people because it’s such a regular thing for me. It’s good to use it though. It’s faster and cheaper than taxis and services.” Tyler turned up an avenue and he followed, bright sun catching him in the eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure. You got to remember that I’d never even been on public transportation until I went to college in Austin.” And he hadn’t used it much. He’d paid to park his pickup.
Tyler grinned. “Do you drive a pickup, Mister Cowboy?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? I have three right now, plus a Harley, and I have this beat-up 1971 Mustang that I swear I’ll restore one day.” He wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. He did like to talk about it with Jonas though, yessir.
“Oh, the Mustang sounds like fun. I’ve never driven. I don’t even have a license.”
The neighborhood started looking familiar. He must have walked by here last night.
“No? I love to get in the truck and drive. I have a bunch of four-wheelers too, and those are fun to take out.” He had a little boat for the pond, a bigger boat for the lake, some Ski-Doos. He guessed he liked his things with motors.
Tyler laughed, stopping outside the bar. “Your ranch is starting to sound like Disney World to me.”
“It’s got more cow poop and baby goats, but there are absolutely two princesses.”
“Cute.” Tyler inhaled the last two bites of his cone, making goofy faces as he chewed and swallowed it. “Okay. This is me. Where are you headed? If you come back for dinner, I can comp you.”
“I’m going to find a bookstore and some fun geegaws for my people. I will definitely come and warm the barstool tonight.” He was…hell, he didn’t know, some mix of stupid and lonely and intrigued. He liked Tyler.
“Souvenirs are everywhere.” Tyler smiled warmly. “So… I’ll see you later then. Thank you for the book, and for lunch.”
“Thank you for showing up. I had a ball. I’ll see you in a bit. Save me a stool.” Damn, Tyler had pretty eyes.
“I will.” Tyler hovered by the door. “Okay, one of us has to walk away first. I guess I’ll do it. Bye.” He got a wink and Tyler disappeared into the bar.
Matthew chuckled and shook his head. “Damn, you got it bad, buddy.
You’d best call Sister. You know she’s waiting on you.”
First though…
“Siri, find me a bookstore.”
4
Tyler hurried to the back and pulled on his apron. He was almost late. Almost but not quite, and it was the strangest feeling because he’d been very early for the last few months. Sometimes hours early. It was also the first time in months that he thought he might like to be somewhere other than work.
“Gee. You’re on time. I was starting to get worried.” Peter rolled his eyes, the sarcasm dripping from his words.
“I slept in,” he lied.
“Oh, bullshit.”
Tyler glanced at Peter, unable to completely hide his grin. “What are you low on?”
Peter leaned on the bar. “Information.”
“So…triple sec?”
Peter grabbed the nearly full bottle and jiggled it. “You’re seriously not going to tell me? Come on!”
“We had lunch. He had onion rings and a BLT as big as his head. He’s…nice. Friendly. Kind. Handsome.” He took a mental inventory as he talked, not sure how to have a real conversation about Matthew yet.
“He’s a silver fox. How old is he? Fifty?”
Huh. “I didn’t ask.” It didn’t matter, he was too busy enjoying Matthew’s company. “He’s got two girls and a ranch. He lost his wife a few years ago. So he’s older I guess, but fifty sounds steep.” Even forty sounded steep. Maybe Matthew went gray early. Or maybe he just looked amazing for fifty.
No, no way. He’d said his wife had gotten pregnant right out of college. That put him mid-thirties at best. That felt more like it.
Hell, he didn’t care one way or another. Matthew looked—just right.
“How’s his hand?”
“Oh, shit. I didn’t ask. He didn’t even say anything.” Jesus. “I’m an asshole. I can’t believe I forgot to ask.”
“It must be okay, then, right? If he didn’t say anything.” Peter started slicing lemons. “You seeing him again?”
Tyler tried to play it cool. This was sounding way too much like Peter thought it was a thing. Which it wasn’t. It was just a…a…okay. Maybe it was some kind of thing. A fun weekend thing.
A fun weekend thing with a handsome cowboy who he liked a lot, and who was obviously into him.
Sure. Super casual.
“Well, he knows I’m here. He might stop by later.”
“Yeah? Cool. He seemed decent. Just be careful. If you take him home, text me.”
“Thank you. But I’m not taking anyone home.” He could flirt. But you didn’t take home a man that had children and a house back in Texas. He couldn’t risk it being wonderful. Texas was a thousand miles and a time zone away.
It might as well be in another country.
“Bummer. You could use a good orgasm or twelve.”
Tyler snorted, catching on. “Ah. You’re in that cock cage again aren’t you? Were you a bad boy?”
“Shut. Up.” Peter actually stamped his foot, and wasn’t that adorable? “I’ll have you know I was brilliant. Dammit.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He laughed and went to help a young lady in leather with a beer. Ah, Saturdays.
About three hours into his shift, Matthew came walking in, looking tanned and fine in a white button-down shirt, open at the throat, hat on, those gray eyes twinkling.
He found a stool at the bar and settled like he belonged there.
Tyler kept busy and pretended like he hadn’t seen the cowboy for a few minutes just so he could steal some glances. The trim beard, crisp shirt, and easy smile… Matthew looked like nothing he’d ever seen and everything he never knew he wanted.
Matthew on the other hand, wasn’t pretending why he was here. Those eyes watched him, but Matthew never seemed impatient, fully intending to wait until Tyler had time.
Peter gave him a nod, so he made sure everyone was settled and went down the bar to say hello, grabbing the Cuervo on the way.
“Howdy, stranger. You look amazing. Did you have a good day?”
“I did. I found a bookstore, had a fancy coffee, and found a goofy tchotchke store to get presents for home.” Matthew held up his phone, showing off a picture of funny, silly things, from shirts to bobbing head dolls.
“What did you end up buying? More books?” He leaned on the bar and Matthew flipped through the pictures. “Because you definitely needed those.”
“I got a couple of New York specific ones, yeah—I got one about famous ghosts here—and I grabbed a signed Stephen King for my collection.”
“Man, I can’t even tease you about buying more books.” He shook his head. Matthew meant business. “You’re just… ‘yeah, I totally did.’”
“Books. Cows. Goats. Some things you just have to buy when they come around.” Matthew winked at him, teasing madly. “Could be worse. My brother? He’s into art. It’s everywhere. Stacked everywhere. You cain’t even see most of it. My sister has at least ten zillion purses and a whole closet of shoes.”
“Wow. I guess that’s what you do with money, huh? Collect things? Do you have a huge library on your ranch too? I mean for your own books?” He set a shot in front of Matthew and a Dr Pepper.
Matthew winced, but he nodded. “I have some. I donate most of them to the library in town. Thank you, sir.” Matthew handed over his card. “For my tab.”
He caught Matthew’s eyes and held them, then took the card and nodded, making sure their fingers touched. “Okay.”
Matthew winked at him, thumb brushing his hand. “Having a good night?”
“It’s a busy night.” He clipped Matthew’s card to a bill, but left it blank. First round was on him. “But it got better when this handsome cowboy walked through the door.”
“That’s fine to hear, Mr. McKeehan.”
Wow. Matthew remembered his last name.
Oh! Speaking of remembering. “How’s your hand? I can’t believe I forgot to ask you at lunch. I can be such an idiot, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Matthew held his hand out, palm up. There was a bandage across, hiding any grossness. “See?”
He snorted. “No, I can’t see anything, cowboy. Does it hurt?”
“I don’t want to poke it with a stick, but I’m not thinking about it.” Matthew leaned in. “One day we’ll compare scars. I have lots.”
“One day, huh? You’re a fast-moving cowboy.” He could see it though. One day. Which made no sense.
“Just patient. No pressure.” The neat part was that Matthew seemed to mean it.
“I have a few good ones. I was always getting into shit as a kid.” But it would be a while before Matthew saw the one on his hip.
“What’s your best story—mine is from a scar that’s not for public consumption, unfortunately.”
Tyler laughed. “Mine too!” He stepped back from the bar and tucked his hand along the front inside of his thigh. “Right there. I got mugged, and the guy had a knife. I was seventeen and decided not to give him my wallet. The knife was headed for my gut, but I caught his arm and almost took off my dick instead.” He stepped back up to the bar, grinning. “Just give up your wallet. It’s so not worth it.”
“Jesus Christ! That’s pure evil.” Matthew actually looked…affronted. Utterly shocked that someone would do that.
“Nah. That’s just a sketchy neighborhood in New York at an hour I shouldn’t have been out anyway.” He’d learned a lot of lessons the hard way around seventeen. “Where’s yours?”
“On my left butt cheek.” Matthew’s lips twisted. “Nowhere near as dramatic as yours, though. Jonas and I were playing with Mitch and Damien, my cousins, when we were kids. Mitch was playing with my daddy’s branding iron, and he didn’t know it was on. Branded me right on my butt. The guys all went one way. Sister ran to tell. I screamed like a banshee and ran to the bathroom, locked myself in, and wouldn’t come out. Uncle Coot went and got the boys. My momma had Daddy take the bathroom door off the hinges, and Dr. Fry was there to look
at the infection and pull melted bits of my shorts out of it. I spent a week on my belly with my bare butt in the air.”
“Oh my God.” He laughed, but he was horrified at the very idea. “A branding iron. Are you serious? Holy shit, I bet that was a sight. That had to hurt like hell too. God.”
“It was the smell. Gag. But yeah, I’m officially branded as belonging to the Flying W ranch, for eternity.”
“Kinky.” Tyler winked. “Does this come up often? It sounds like great Thanksgiving conversation.”
Matthew rolled his eyes and laughed, the sound booming out and drawing everyone’s attention. “You have no idea. Every goddamn year. However, I’m not the only crazy asshole with stories of setting something on fire or falling off a horse or sticking a bean up her nose and being scared to tell. So I’m just one in a line of stories.”
“Yeah but you’re the only one with a W on your ass to show for it.” He giggled like he was the one who was drinking. “Oh, man.”
“A flying W, thank you very much.” And they were off again, cackling madly, Matthew slapping the bar with his big ham hand.
“Oh…my sides hurt.” He poured Matthew another shot.
“Hey, Ty?” That was Peter.
Tyler looked down the bar. “Oh. Peter needs a hand. Sorry.” He tapped the bar and gave Matthew a smile. “Back in a minute.”
He wasn’t though, he got a second to take Matthew’s dinner order and another here and there, but it was late before the bar quieted down enough for him to try to have a real conversation again.
“Hey. Are you doing okay?” He poured himself a Coke and leaned on the bar. “Sorry it’s so busy.”
“You’re working, honey. I’m not stressed. It means good tips.” In fact, Matthew was damn near through a novel that was sitting next to him, a beer mat keeping his place.
“Never lonely?” He pointed to the book. “Is it good?”
“Not bad. I care about the hero. I want the bad guy to lose. Those are both good signs, right?”
“Sounds like it. I was going to grab some fries and take a break. You want to snag a table?” It was quiet now; he’d trade off with Peter.