by Jodi Payne
Aubrey stuck out his hand and before he could say anything else Stan took it and gave it a shake. “We're good?” Aubrey asked, hearing himself slur, unsure if that was due to the fat lip or the alcohol.
"We're good."
"I can't believe I let you get that hook in."
"Me neither. Stupid idiot, y'oughtta know better'n that."
"I do. Guess I knew I needed some smacking around."
Stan and Aubrey helped each other up, dusted each other off, and parted company after another handshake. Aubrey figured it was best if he didn't go back into the bar, so he headed off in search of his truck. He had to get to work the next morning.
The next thing he knew someone was tapping him on the shoulder. Disoriented and confused, he squinted up at the young man in front of him.
"Hey. You okay?” The kid's voice broke through the fog in Aubrey's mind and he suddenly remembered the fight.
"Busted lip is all,” he mumbled. He still didn't remember passing out. And where the hell was he?
"Busted lip nothin', you should see your eye, man.” The kid laughed. Christ. That would explain why Aubrey's head was pounding and everything was so damn blurry. “Maybe you should just sit a while."
"Gotta get home. Work in the mornin'.” He wasn't about to miss another day, he owed Haley some gratitude. “Who are you? Where's my truck?"
"Name's Kelly. Is your truck a big, sun-bleached blue, Ranger?"
"Yeah."
"You're leanin’ on it.” Kelly squatted down in front of Aubrey. “All due respect, mister, but you don't want to be drivin’ tonight. Don't think you can see."
Aubrey's brow furrowed and he squinted at the kid. “What're you? Twelve?"
"Oh, fine, fine. So you can see some.” Kelly chuckled.
Aubrey tried to laugh, but it made him feel sick.
"Sure I can't give you a ride?"
"Are you old enough to drive?"
"Plenty. Twenty-three. You're a tough nut, ain't ya? Suit yourself, mister,” Kelly said with a shake of his head and stood up. “I was just tryin’ to be a neighbor."
"Don't call me ‘mister'; it's Aubrey,” he growled, and waved a hand vaguely in the air. Aubrey winced and groaned a couple of times, but he managed to get to his feet on his own. He didn't stay upright very well, though, and as he chucked up his dinner on the curb behind the rear tire, he decided that Kelly might have the right of it. Driving might be a poor idea after all. He reached in his pocket and handed the kid his keys.
"Out the Old Post Road,” he croaked, and crawled into the cab.
"New in town, cowboy."
"Christ. Go North.” He waved his hand. “That way. North. It turns into county 231."
"Gonna stay with me here, cowboy? You're looking pretty green. Maybe you better tell me the rest before you pass out again."
Aubrey nodded, feeling like he was about to do just that. “Right on Hugh. Dirt road. Blue house with a long driveway and white mailbox."
Kelly started Aubrey's truck, the engine turning over willingly. “So what was the fight about?"
"Nothin'. Not a goddamn thing. Just a fight."
Kelly laughed. “Ain't it always like that?"
Chapter Four
Aubrey woke to his alarm clock at his usual unholy hour feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He cussed and fumbled around on his bedside table for the clock and hit the snooze bar once. It didn't stop beeping at him so he hit it again, and when the fucking thing still didn't stop he finally pushed it off the table. That seemed to work.
His head was pounding and his eyes felt glued shut, but that wasn't the worst of it. As he hauled himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his muscles and joints protested and all the sins of the night before began to come back to him. It wasn't until he got into the shower, though, and got a good look at his body that he started to give himself a mental bruising to go with the physical ones.
No more going out during the week, he told himself. Work, come home, chill out, go to bed. It was high time he stopped making a goddamn ass of himself in town. A drunken, pathetic evening now and then was one thing, but a whole string of them, culminating in a fistfight with one of his best friends? That was way out of line.
Aubrey had a couple of ugly purple splotches on his ribs. Stan hadn't pulled his punches, that was for sure. Even drunk that bastard had fists of iron.
By the time Aubrey was done with his shower his head felt clearer and his right eye felt fine, but his left was still kind of sore. He tied a towel around his waist and swiped his hand across the bathroom mirror to clear it. “Holy fuck,” he swore, mentally beating himself up just a little bit more. His eye was purple, a little swollen underneath, and there was even a small cut near the corner. There was no hiding that he'd been in a fight; he'd be sporting that shiner for days.
Fuck it, he told himself, the horses didn't give a good goddamn if he was pretty.
He shaved carefully, being mindful of the split lip Stan had given him, then brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. Time to get his hair cut, he decided, it was starting to do that curly thing in the back. Chet used to say he liked it when Aubrey let his hair grow out and get curly.
Cocksucker.
Aubrey chuckled softly. For some reason, that insult didn't have the right impact anymore.
His stomach growled and he moved stiffly back into the bedroom in search of his jeans. He wasn't much of a cook, but he could manage some eggs and maybe some toast. He really wanted bacon, and biscuits and gravy, but that would have to wait for a morning he had time to stop by the diner on the way out to the farm. He was moving too slowly for that this morning.
"How's the eye?"
Aubrey jumped a mile. He staggered back a couple of steps and swallowed to shove his heart back down into his chest. “Who the fuck are you?” He stared at the kid in his bed with the dark, tousled hair and the broad, toothy smile and clutched at the towel around his waist.
The kid started to laugh and shook his head. “Oh my, cowboy. That is not a good way to start a morning, is it?"
"Fuck off. Who are you?” Aubrey was frantically running over his memories of the night before. Fucking someone wasn't among them. This kid seemed familiar, but Aubrey was sure he remembered him clothed.
"Name's Kelly."
Aubrey nodded. “Ah, right. Kelly."
"You don't remember, do you?"
Jesus. Someone probably saw him leave with this kid. He looked about nineteen. The guys at the barn were going to give him hell today for sure. “Not a goddamn thing."
Kelly grinned. “Are you hungry?"
Aubrey was confused and his head was starting to pound again. He found himself nodding dumbly.
"Kitchen is this way, right?"
Aubrey nodded again, politely turning his eyes away as the kid pulled on a pair of worn jeans. He followed Kelly into the kitchen, sinking into a chair as he watched the kid make himself at home, trying without success to remember anything about their evening together. He remembered the fight well enough; trading punches with Stan, surrounded by a crowd of hard-working men who were probably drunker than they were at the time. He even vaguely remembered getting up off the sidewalk and a friendly handshake with Stan, but he didn't remember anything after that. How this kid got to his place and into his bed, well, the devil take him. He couldn't recollect a goddamn thing.
Kelly seemed to find everything all right; eggs, cast-iron skillet, butcher block, knife, salt and pepper. A few minutes went by and Kelly even sat a mug of hot coffee on the table near his elbow.
"Drink it black?"
Aubrey blinked up at him, the words barely getting through his pounding head. Kelly picked up the mug and pressed it into his hands.
"Drink."
Aubrey drank. At first it didn't seem to do anything for him and the hot liquid hit his stomach in a way he didn't much care for, but in a few minutes he was actually starting to feel better.
"Mmm. Coffee."
Kelly snorted. “Welcome back to the living.” He stepped over to Aubrey to give him a refill. “So, where are you headed that your clock goes off so goddamn early?"
Aubrey swallowed another sip of his coffee and then mumbled, “Work."
"Farm work?"
"Yeah. Horses.” Aubrey's voice was getting stronger and his vision had started to improve slightly as his headache subsided. He watched as Kelly deftly scrambled up some eggs in the skillet and put them on a plate beside some toast before setting the plate down in front of him.
Aubrey stared at the food. “Okay, Kelly,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully since he didn't really trust himself to speak at all. “This is ... wrong. Completely wrong. Do you know that? I'm way out o’ line, here.” But damn if those eggs didn't smell good.
"Relax, man. You were drunk and puking. I got you home safe and found somewhere to lay my head for the night."
"I don't ... I hope I didn't...” Aubrey sighed. “I'm really sorry."
Kelly waved him off. “You want me gone, I'm cool with that."
Aubrey felt like a first class asshole. But it was too soon after Chet to think about meeting anyone and he really had to get himself back to work and move on. He tried to explain. “See, it's just that—"
"It's okay, Aubrey,” Kelly interrupted, flashing those white teeth. Something about the smile wasn't quite reaching his eyes, though. “Eat your eggs."
Aubrey ate, and they might very well have been the best eggs he'd ever eaten in his life. Every few bites he'd look up to find Kelly sipping coffee or looking out the window. They didn't talk, and yet Aubrey felt no need to rush through his breakfast, either. It was comfortable, somehow, like they'd done this a hundred times.
It was wrong, but it felt right.
"You need a ride someplace?” Aubrey finally asked, though it felt like it would have been just as natural to ask Kelly to stay the night again. He got up to put his plate in the sink. Damnit all, why couldn't he remember the night before? He liked the kid's look. He was young, but he had a strong chin and good posture; he held himself like he gave a damn. The kid had a great ass, too.
Okay, Aubrey decided, that was the last straw right there, he wasn't drinking anymore. Well, not for at least a week. At least not so much that he got puking-drunk. No way.
Kelly joined him at the sink, setting down his empty coffee mug. They stood inches apart and their eyes met, and Aubrey felt his cock respond just before Kelly did. “Back to town, I reckon."
"Right.” Best to keep the words to a minimum just for the moment. “Lemme get my hat.” Aubrey took several long strides through the living room and disappeared into the bedroom again where he hastily pulled on clothes and cussed himself out. Fucking work. Fucking horses. Fucking libido. He could hear Kelly stomping into his boots in the living room. Aubrey willed his cock to behave, then took a deep breath and headed back though the kitchen and out the back door toward his truck. He waved his hat at the passenger side and Kelly hurried around and got in.
The kid was just short enough that he needed to use the running board as a step up. Aubrey chuckled at him. “Shut up,” Kelly said with a snort. He put one booted foot up on the dash and leaned back in the seat, tipping his hat down over his eyes.
The kid was tired. Aubrey shook his head. He was either going to have to ask what happened or make up a story, and there was no way in hell he was going to ask. So lie it was, and he just hoped the guys never figured it out.
The drive into town was quiet, with Kelly napping on the other side of the truck. Aubrey had the radio on, but it was mostly talk this time of morning, news and weather and the like. As Aubrey pulled into town he reached over and gave Kelly a light tap on the shoulder. “Hey, kid. We're here.” He found he was speaking softly, like he would to a child that was just waking up. Not like him at all. Must be the hangover.
Kelly nodded and sat up, adjusting his hat and rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for the ride, cowboy."
Aubrey shrugged. “Was on the way,” he lied.
Kelly studied him for a moment and then opened the door, sliding off the seat to the sidewalk. “Be good to them horses,” he said, and the thoughtful look on his face grew into a great big grin.
"Will do.” Aubrey waited, but Kelly didn't close the door. “See you around...” he added, filling the awkward silence with idiotic noise.
"Might.” Kelly shrugged and closed the door.
Chapter Five
Aubrey mentally kicked himself all the way to the farm. Stupid fucking hangover. Stupid fucking fight. Stupid fucking kid and his stupid fucking eggs. Today was going to suck.
He had no idea how badly.
He got out of his truck just as the sun hit the horizon and he was nearly blinded on his walk up to the barn; the big building was little more than a black shadow as he squinted into the sun. The barn was quiet with everyone still on night turnout and he spent the first few hours of the morning mucking and raking and filling the water buckets.
Ray came by with a mug of coffee and a taste of cornbread around nine, and Aubrey was ready for a break.
Ray cleared his throat. “Stan looks as bad as you do. Worse even."
"I'm not even sure who won.” Aubrey snorted. He wasn't one to shy away from a fight, but he wasn't proud of his bruises this time either.
"Seems to me you're both a couple o’ losers,” Ray laughed, handing over the cornbread.
Aubrey shook his head and shot a look in Ray's direction. “You're a funny, funny man, Ray.” He waited for it, but Ray didn't mention the fact that Aubrey had taken anyone home. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Denny's green, Aubrey."
"Yeah, but he wants that spot. You were green once, too."
"That ain't no lie. But August sure makes for a trial by fire. Hotter than Hades out there."
"He can handle it.” Aubrey had no doubts. Denny had been talking about riding fences and running cattle since the day he took the barn job. Lots of men did it; started out mucking stalls and worked their way out of the barn and into the great wide open. But Aubrey liked the horses and he didn't have to learn to live like a cowboy. No compromises, no pecking order. That was just fine, he reckoned; horses eat, sleep, and shit, and they don't talk.
Some men felt closer to God in the open, but Aubrey felt the spirit fine in the soft coat, soulful eyes, and indulgent, gentle nature of a fifteen-hundred pound animal.
"Gotta round up the mares. Got time?"
"Sure, why not?” Ray was a good sport. He didn't ride out with the boys anymore since his hip injury a year ago. He had an ugly limp now, but there was enough work to go round and no one had ever made noises about letting him go. He was as good as anyone to help with the horses, and so the two of them finished the cornbread, swallowed down their coffee, and then headed out to the pastures to round up the mares. It was going to be another hot one, and Aubrey wanted everyone inside and out of the sun.
"Who's down?” Ray asked, squinting and then pointing in case Aubrey hadn't seen her yet.
He had, but he'd been hoping she was just rolling in the dirt to cool off. “Christ,” he swore, and picked up the pace. “Sorry, Ray,” he apologized, and left Ray in the dust, breaking into a jog. He vaulted the horse-fence and continued through the paddock. Dark bay, maybe Matie or Guin, but he couldn't be sure by the coloring alone.
"Guinevere,” he sighed, getting closer. The mare rolled to her feet as he approached her and stamped her hooves in the dirt. “Easy girl, easy.” Aubrey held the halter by the brow in one hand and the lead in the other. “Let's have a look at you,” he said with a lilt in his voice that experience had taught him was calming to the horses. It didn't help much just at the moment, and he jumped out of the way as Guin threw herself back on the ground and rolled.
"She's hurtin',” he called out to Ray who had made his way through the paddock gates and was walking in his direction.
"Bound up, you think?” Ray called back.
Aubrey nodde
d. Colic was common, and it looked like Guin had gone most of the night like this. She was dirty and her eyes were dull. When she finally got back to her feet Aubrey went to her gently, deciding to forego the halter and looping the lead around her neck instead. She was hot and sweating heavily despite the relatively mild morning and she was nearly panting like a dog. “Head on up and call Amy, Ray. Tell her I'm thinkin’ it's colic, Guinevere's all lathered up and we're gonna need her. This could've been goin’ on all night."
Ray nodded and left, hurrying as best he could with his bum hip. Aubrey appreciated every ounce of hustle the man could muster, but he couldn't help but think that Denny would have run all the way, hell bent for leather. After this was over, Aubrey figured he'd better get to finding himself a new hand.
"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you back to the barn. Come on, the walk'll do you some good.” Aubrey talked softly to Guinevere as he coaxed the mare back up to the barn. She was agitated and distracted by the pain, but he kept her calm with his voice. They moved slowly, and Aubrey kept a close eye on her, watching how she went and studying her breathing. By the time they'd made it up, Ray had called the vet. He'd alerted Haley, too.
"Ah, Guinevere. Tsk.” Haley shook his head at the mare and ran a hand over her side.
Aubrey stopped next to him just long enough to get the halter properly over Guin's nose and then moved on. “We're walkin',” he told Haley, not waiting for a reply. Walking was all he could do for Guin right now and he was damn sure going to do it. Walk and walk and walk and hope that something shook loose. “You want to talk you best come with."
Haley fell in step with them. “I sent Ray out in m'truck to find Denny. Reckon’ you'll be needin'im."
Aubrey was grateful for that. He didn't want to leave Guin's side for a moment and there was a hell of a lot of work to be done. “Can you spare me one or two more?"
Haley nodded and tugged a radio from his belt. “Ray?"