by Pat Henshaw
It took a while for the two floors to return to anything I’d consider room temperature, and by that time, I was the only one still awake and roaming around. I turned off the lights upstairs, locked the kitchen door, then came downstairs and did the same. I left a message on the Cuttings phone telling Beth that neither Ricky nor I would be in.
Before I joined John in bed, I pulled down the shades on the bottom-floor windows. Morning was coming soon, and I for one didn’t want to be totally awake for at least eight hours, if not longer, even if I did have to check John every few hours to see if he was okay. I could do that fine when I was semiconscious.
THE KNOCKER started a roll-call loud tattoo around eight, much too early for any of us. When I peeked out a crack in the shades, I saw a phalanx of news trucks along the street and some even stopped on the snow-covered lawn of the city park next door.
I caught the eye of a guy who shouted he was a reporter and would like to talk to John or Ricky.
I double-locked the front door and put the chain on the back doors, upstairs and down, then crawled back in bed where John wrapped himself around me, muttering, “You’re cold. Here, warm up.”
Then we proceeded to ignore the rap of the knocker and the shouts of the crowd and the honking horns of the traffic. Sheriff Campbell had been elected to take care of crowds like this. I was happy to let him do his job.
Turned out that the tiny foothills village of Stone Acres had captured one of the Bay Area’s most wanted. Leo and his prostitution ring, with its branch office in San Diego, had been fleeing capture for over a decade.
The loss of John, which triggered Ricky’s disintegration, had helped pull the plug in the Bay Area. Leo had feared John might go to the police and steer them to his door, so he’d been moving around relentlessly, jeopardizing the continuity of service. Clients began leaving in droves, and competitors moved into San Francisco, which drained Leo.
It all sounded like a mystery novel to me as I heard about it on the news. Adam had gotten John and Ricky a lawyer, who’d given the press a statement, but reporters still wanted to talk to both of them, much to John’s dismay.
The deadline for me to decide what I was going to do with my life sped toward me as the sordid story unfolded.
In the end, my decision wasn’t rocket science, and I didn’t even need my doctorate degree to figure out what I wanted to do. I’d basically procrastinated into making my final decision.
I called the NEA group that had offered me the grant. Then I called my mother, who sighed.
“It took you long enough,” she chided me. “I thought maybe school had stolen your brain.”
“Mom,” I whined. “I got beat up. I wasn’t myself.”
“You were yourself in December,” she said. “You knew what you wanted then. Don’t tell me differently.”
There was a long pause.
“So have you talked it over with John?”
I shook my head, then realized we weren’t skyping.
“Not yet.”
Again she gave an annoyed grunt, which irked me even more.
“Well, don’t you think it’s about time you man up?”
Sometimes, even if she was the perfect mother with the perfect son, I hated her.
“Yes, Mother.”
JOHN WAS hiding out from the very few reporters who were still chasing after him. I joined the group of people trying to pin him down. Now he was leaving meals for me again. I heated them in the microwave after I got home from the nursery. We still slept in the same bed, but that was all we did in it. He came in after I fell asleep, and I left for the nursery before he woke. Two ships in the night had a greater chance of colliding, it seemed, than we did.
I’d had a long talk with Beth and Kate, and they’d approved my life plan. In fact, they were ecstatic about it.
Everybody seemed to be on board with Dr. Fenton Miller’s future path except the one person crucial to making it work out happily.
Just when I was getting really pissed off at how elusive John was, he was waiting for me at Blue Cottage when I got home one night. He was cooking dinner and fucking humming to himself. His tough features were smoothed out, and for the first time since I’d known him, which admittedly wasn’t very long, but long enough, he looked happy.
“So you had a good day?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen, grabbed him from behind, and planted a hickey-producing kiss on his neck.
He shook off my limpet-like hold and turned to give me a boner kiss.
“Yes. I plan to have an even better night.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned.
“Oh yeah.”
“But first…,” we both began.
After the requisite stop and start as we each tried to be polite and let the other one speak, we conceded that we needed to have a long-overdue talk before we relieved the pressure of being essentially apart for so long.
We both picked at the excellent dinner he’d cooked, sharing more grins and kisses than words, until we gave up and abandoned the food. After a quick cleanup, we went to lie under the naked fir that was still residing in his turret room. We’d removed the holiday decorations and were now waiting for the ground to thaw and warm up enough so that we could plant our trees.
“You go first,” I urged him.
He gave me a kiss and a long look as if he were assessing me.
“I quit my job at the Star,” he said as if I’d be surprised.
“Okay. So you’re buying the Limelight?”
He nodded.
“That’s good, right? Did you leave peacefully, or did you give Adam the finger as you stomped out?”
He grunted. Then snuggled closer, giving me another kiss, this one more powerful and longer than the first.
“It was tempting, but I asked myself, ‘How would Fen handle this?’”
I laughed as I turned. He stared at me stone-faced, then broke into laughter.
“You ass. You did not.” I was indignant.
“No. You’re right. I didn’t.” He sighed. “Adam and I talked about what I was planning on doing—breakfast and lunch—and how it might fit in with what he was doing at the Star—dinners only. We were very civilized about it. You would have approved.”
I snorted. As if he needed my approval about anything he did. It was nice knowing that as he made a big decision for himself, he was thinking of me, just as I’d been thinking about him.
“So have you decided what you want to be when you grow up?” he teased.
“Yes, dickhead, I have.” I took a breath and snuggled closer, putting my hand on his chest.
“All my life, I’ve always told myself I wanted to fall in love with a tall, strong guy who’d make it his life’s work to protect me from everything bad in the world, just as I would protect and take care of him. So I never dated guys as short as me. I didn’t become their friend either.” As he tried to move back, I pulled him to my side and clamped my hand down harder on his chest. He wasn’t getting away until I was done. “I know now it was an ass move, but after my dad and his comments, it seemed the only smart thing to do. You know?”
I didn’t wait for him to nod his head, though I was pleased when I felt it.
“Only it turns out what I wanted wasn’t a tall, dark, and handsome man at all. What I really wanted was a short, dark, and handsome man. Somebody who cooks great food and makes me feel ten feet tall when we’re together. Somebody who can make me feel like a real stud when we’re in bed.” I glanced over at him. “In short, I want you.”
“Real funny,” he said, even though I hadn’t realized I’d made a stupid joke. Then he rolled on top of me. “That’s good because what I want is you.”
His hands snuck down my body, and while I was aching for where this was going, I wasn’t done with my side of the conversation yet. So I gently and carefully rolled him back beside me, only breaking the kiss when his lips left mine.
“I have to tell you something else.” I put my hand back on his chest while with the ot
her I hugged him. “I talked to the education association group that gave me the grant.”
He sighed. “They told you that you can do the job anywhere you wanted since you don’t have to live in the area, only write up the plan, hire the assistants to gather the data, and analyze it when they send it to you.”
I sat up, staring down at him.
“You knew? How’d you…? Forget it. Ricky. He must have heard Beth and Kate talking about it at the nursery. Fuck it.” I ran a hand through my hair. Now I was pissed. “You decided about the Limelight because you knew you could count on my rent?”
He sat up next to me.
“No. I got seed money from my aunt, who never liked Adam and told me she trusted him as far as she could kick him. Afterward I found out what the group had told you. I didn’t know if you’d decided to stay or not.”
I grabbed him and leaned into him, making us fall to the floor, me on top.
“You thought I’d leave?” I groused at him.
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. “How should I know? You didn’t say anything. Besides, I didn’t know if you’d be okay living in the house with Ricky as our boarder.” He looked away and sighed. “I can’t abandon him again. He’s finding a life here, and I don’t mind keeping an eye on him.”
Then the humor of the situation hit me. I’d poured my soul out to him. And what had John, the ever stoic John, done? He’d tried to cut to the chase, the lovemaking part of the evening, without making any comment to me? I really was an ass for love.
“What?” he asked as if he’d been following my thoughts. “You want to know how I feel? You have to hear the words? You can’t be satisfied with action?”
I just stared at him, wondering how dense he really was.
“I love you, you dumb fuck. It’d tear my heart out and make me a husk of a man if you left and never came back. You know this. I don’t have to tell you.” He sighed as I bent toward him. “You know this.”
He was right. I did.
“I love you too.” I bent in for the kiss and whispered against his lips, “Now we don’t have to talk any more tonight.”
More from Pat Henshaw
A Foothills Pride Story
Barista Jimmy Patterson thinks it’s a good idea to get rip-roaring drunk on his birthday after he’s dumped by his boyfriend. When the burly owner of Stonewall’s Bar rescues Jimmy, the night starts to look up.
Now Jimmy just wants to know the bartender’s first name since he’s worn a different name tag every time Jimmy’s seen him. “Guy” Stone gives Jimmy seven guesses, one for each night he takes Jimmy out on a date.
While Jimmy’s trying to come up with his name, he’s distracted by the destruction of his coffee shop and what looks more and more like a hate crime.
A Foothills Pride Story
Renowned interior designer Fredi Zimmer is surprised when outdoorsman Max Greene, owner of Greene’s Outdoors, hires Fredi to revamp his rustic cabin in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Fredi is an out-and-proud Metro male whose contact with the outdoors is from his car to the doorway of the million-dollar homes he remodels, and Max is just too hunky for words.
When Max comes on to Fredi, the designer can’t imagine why. But he’s game to put a little spice into Max’s life, even if it’s just in the colors and fixtures he’ll use to turn Max’s dilapidated cabin into a showplace. Who can blame a guy for adding a little sensual pleasure as he retools Max’s life visually?
Max, for his part, is grateful when Fredi takes him in hand, both metaphorically and literally. Coming out is the most exciting and wonderful time in his life, despite the conservative former friends who think they’re saving him from sliding into hell.
A Foothills Pride Story
Big, burly CEO Abe Behr is dismayed to discover someone—possibly a family member—is stealing from Behr Construction, which primarily employs Behr relatives. Abe takes the unprecedented step of hiring an outsider, likeable CPA Jeff Mason, to go over the books and help find the culprit. They are drawn to each other as they talk to workers, including Abe’s two younger brothers and their shifty cousin.
Since he has sacrificed romance all his life to build the business, Abe’s surprised by his feelings for the handsome Jeff. He’s even more shocked when they are confronted by bigotry in the Sierra Nevada foothills community, which is being inundated by gays moving from the San Francisco area. As he and Jeff get closer, Abe must come to grips with coming out to a family and community that aren’t very tolerant. Fortunately, being the head Behr helps him find his footing and grab onto love when it bites him.
A Foothills Pride Story
When his lover Jason’s drug addiction spiraled out of control, TV celebrity chef and cookbook author Adam de Leon walked away from him. Adam also abandoned his renowned restaurant in San Francisco to start a small bistro in the Sierra Foothills.
Five years later Adam is battling the conservative leaders of Stone Acres, California, to open a new restaurant in historic Old Town when Jason turns up on his doorstep—a recovered Jason, now going by the name David and claiming he’s overcome his addictions. What’s more, he begs Adam to take him back and says he’s ready for their happily ever after.
Adam has enough on his plate with problems plaguing the opening of his restaurant. And now he’s having a hard time deciding which to follow—his head or his heart.
A Foothills Pride Story
Sometimes love sneaks up when you’re least looking for it….
Zeke Bandy, owner of Bandy’s Finest Hotel in Old Town Stone Acres, California, is too busy for love. Not only does he oversee the operations of the historic hotel and uphold his family’s tradition of offering refuge to strays and runaways, Zeke also sings and plays down-home music two nights a week at the Stonewall Saloon and for occasional celebrations. Then Zeke meets Victor Longbow, the man of his dreams.
Vic isn’t looking for love either. In fact, because of his upbringing in a strict, white foster family, Vic’s not sure he believes in love. He’s in Stone Acres to open a branch office of a national brokerage firm. He’s also hoping to find a vintage photo of what might be his Native American ancestor.
After their paths cross, they become friends, then more. Connected by their experiences as orphans raised by flawed fathers, Zeke and Vic realize that some men must find love, hone it, and create families for themselves.
PAT HENSHAW was born in the Heartland of Nebraska and has made America hers by living in Texas, Colorado, Northern Virginia, and Northern California. She has found joy in visiting Mexico, Canada, Europe, Nicaragua, Thailand, and Egypt, and relishes trips to Stowe, Vermont, to see family.
Pat has spent her life surrounded by words: teaching English composition at the junior college level; writing book reviews for newspapers, magazines, and websites; helping students find information as a librarian; and promoting PBS television programs.
Two of her fondest memories are touching time when she put her hands on the pyramids and experiencing pure whimsy when she interviewed Caroll Spinney (Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch). Her triumphs are raising two incredible daughters who daily amaze her with their power and compassion. Her supportive husband keeps her grounded in reality when she threatens to drift away writing fiction.
Talk to Pat at:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/pat.henshaw.10
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Book website: whatsinanamenovella.blogspot.com
Website: www.pathenshaw.com
Email: [email protected]
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By Pat Henshaw
Blame It on the Fruitcake
The Orpheum Miracle
FOOTHILLS PRIDE STORIES
What’s in a Name?
Redesigning Max
Behr Facts
When Adam Fell
Relative Best
Frank at Heart
Waking the Behr
Short Order
Foothills P
ride, Vol. 1 (Print Anthology)
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Short Order
© 2017 Pat Henshaw.
Cover Art
© 2017 AngstyG.
http://www.angstyg.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63533-114-1
Published December 2017