Beck considered Cal’s suggestion. Was there a chance in hell he could beat him? Because if so, the race was on. He’d been uncertain in the saddle at first, but now he was plenty comfortable enough to know he wouldn’t embarrass himself.
He studied Cal, the muscles that strained at his T-shirt, his comfortable posture on Nereid. He could almost be a centaur, he looked so natural.
“I don’t know.”
Cal raised his brows. “You beat me once.”
That had been one of the best days of Beck’s life.
“Want to go for twice?”
“Hell yes.”
Cal grinned, looking so damn sexy, Beck would’ve been weak-kneed if he’d been standing. He might as well be in high school again for how foolishly he was mooning over Cal.
“We’ll go across these fields.” Cal gestured to the fallow fields in front of them. “On the far side, turn left, and follow me back to the house.”
Beck snorted. “Follow you? Who says you’ll be in the lead?” He kicked Jigsaw’s side and took off.
“Hey! Wait up!”
Beck laughed into the wind that whipped by him. No way in hell was he giving Cal any kind of advantage. He lay over Jigsaw as they flew over the ground to the thunder of her hooves, but when he reached the far side of the field, Beck couldn’t remember which way to go.
Left or right?
Jigsaw pulled right, and he figured she knew, so he let her have her head. She picked up speed, but they were heading toward a stand of trees, and Beck began to feel uneasy. He pulled back on the reins, trying to slow her down, no longer confident they were going the right way.
Jigsaw ignored him. Beck pulled harder, knowing Jigsaw could probably feel his desperation, which would only make her skittish. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Cal riding furiously after him.
They were going full tilt toward the creek. Fuck! Beck’s heart slammed against his chest. There was a low-hanging branch ready to knock Beck to the ground.
Could he clear it if he leaned forward?
Maybe. Maybe not.
He jerked on the reins as hard as he could, trying to turn Jigsaw. She ignored Beck and barreled on.
Fuck!
He yanked harder, finally succeeding in turning her enough to avoid the branch, but the quick change of direction made him overbalance. He slid from the saddle and landed on his ass on the ground, tumbling over a few times until he stopped himself in a patch of soft grass where he lay still, trying to catch his breath and figure out whether he’d sustained any serious injuries.
Jigsaw slowed and came to a stop in a thick patch of clover. “Fucking crazy horse,” he muttered.
Cal jumped down from Nereid’s back and raced over to him. “Are you okay?”
Beck took a deep breath before answering. “I think so. Mostly.”
“Beck, seriously.”
Cal started feeling his legs, probably checking for breaks or sprains. When he reached for Beck’s arm, Beck pushed him away. “I’m fine.”
“Did you hit your head?”
“No, but I was fucking lucky.”
He didn’t want to talk to Cal. He just wanted to go home, get in a hot bath, and forget any of this ever happened. Why had he been lured in by Cal and his fucking suggestion of a race?
Cal held out his hand, but Beck didn’t take it. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed the dirt off his jeans, then took a few tentative steps. His ass would be bruised as hell, and one wrist hurt a bit, but the biggest damage was to his ability to see Cal as something other than the bullying jock from childhood. He had to have known Jigsaw was prone to bolting.
“You could’ve told me Jigsaw was fucking psychotic.”
“I told you to turn left.”
Cal’s aggressive tone made Beck want to punch him. He might’ve if his hands hadn’t already hurt. “Don’t fuck with me, Cal. What the hell was this about?”
“Once she gets headed this way, almost nothing can stop her. She’s obsessed with this patch of clover.” Beck resented how calm Cal sounded.
“And you didn’t bother to warn me?”
“I…” Cal looked away, obviously uncomfortable.
Fucking fuck. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
Cal shook his head. “I told you to go left. If she hadn’t been on this trail, she wouldn’t have bolted.”
Beck clenched his fists. “So it’s my fault.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. At first I was going to trick you—”
Beck wanted to choke him. “I could’ve been killed if she hadn’t decided to obey me.”
Cal turned slightly green. “If I’d still meant to, we would’ve come around a different way, where it’s flat and there’s nothing that would hurt you.”
“Do you use this trick often?”
“I put all my new hands on Jigsaw. It’s just a joke, like an initiation. Nobody gets hurt.”
He hadn’t changed one fucking bit. “This isn’t a fraternity, Cal, and I’m not one of your hands.”
“I realized I’d made a mistake, so I took you a different way.”
Beck gave a disgusted snort. “You’re no different than you were in high school. Sure, you’ve modernized the farm, but you…you’re still the same bully you’ve always been.”
Beck’s stomach churned. He needed to get out of there before he let Cal see just how much he’d gotten to him. He couldn’t believe he’d actually intended to rent Grandma’s pastures to this asshole.
“Beck. Beck, wait.”
He ignored Cal and kept walking as fast as he could without actually running.
He heard Cal’s feet pounding the ground, but he kept his quick pace. Then suddenly Cal grabbed his arm and spun him around.
He jerked free. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“I never intended for you to fall. You used to be a really good rider, as good as me or better.”
Beck thought his head might explode. “What? You used to tell me… What was it? ‘You ride like a girl, Becky.’”
Cal stumbled back like Beck had hit him. “God, Beck. I’m sorry I ever said shit like that to you. And I’m sorry about today. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Teenaged Cal had never apologized. Not one single time.
“Do you mean that, really?”
Cal nodded, and Beck could see the pain in his eyes. “I almost told you and took you back to the barn for another mount, but I was too fucking embarrassed.” He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his hand over his face.
“Cal…thanks.”
Cal looked at him again. “For what?”
“For apologizing, not just for today, but for…back then.”
Tension rooted Beck to the ground as they stared at each other. Beck’s gaze fell to Cal’s full, soft lips. They seemed so at odds with his tough farm-boy exterior. Would they feel as smooth as they looked?
With a sharp intake of breath, he stepped back. What was he thinking? One apology and he was ready to jump Cal?
One heartfelt apology.
Could he be sure of that?
Cal watched him warily, like he was bracing for something he didn’t want to hear.
Beck rubbed his thumb over his lips, which tingled as if he’d actually kissed Cal instead of just fantasizing about it. “I… I need to go.”
Cal stared at him, still saying nothing. This time when Beck walked away, Cal didn’t follow.
CHAPTER SIX
By dinnertime, Beck had unpacked most of his boxes and repacked some of the stuff he wouldn’t need for the next few months. After taking the last of the put-away-for-now boxes to the cellar, he sank into an ancient recliner. He now understood why his grandmother had loved it. He never wanted to get up again, but a few moments later his stomach growled.
He considered what he had in the house for dinner. Pasta and sauce. That was easy enough, but he really wanted something with meat in it, like a burger or a steak. Carnivore food. He’d ridden a horse for the first time in
ages, fallen off, and then spent the afternoon unpacking. Not to mention the emotional roller coaster of Cal being an ass and then…wanting him so badly.
Shit! He was going to have to shower, change, and leave the house. If only he could get a pizza delivered. But, oh no. He wasn’t about to consider ordering from anywhere but Pizza King, which only delivered in the city limits—as if a few extra miles would kill them. What he really wanted, though, was one of Trish’s burgers with crinkly fries on the side. Trish’s fries were always crisp, not mushy like crinkly fries often were. But going to the diner meant seeing Trish and God knows who else, not to mention the whispers and looks of disapproval from the assholes in town. But he could get takeout, and then he wouldn’t have to stay long.
Now if he could manage to get out of this chair. Too bad it didn’t have one of those springs in it to shoot him out, like chairs often did in old cartoons.
A half hour or so later he was in the car on the way to town. He’d even put on a button-down shirt after his shower. The last thing he needed was some busybody texting his mother about his unkempt appearance. He slipped through the entrance closest to the register and got in the to-go line. As he waited, he pretended to read something on his phone, keeping his gaze down so no one would recognize him.
“Beckett Davis!”
So much for anonymity. It was Trish herself.
He turned around, and she pulled him into a tight hug.
“It sure took you long enough to come see me.”
“Oh, I was just—”
“Sit down.” She gestured toward a seat at the end of the counter. “I’ll be right back.”
Apparently he wasn’t getting takeout.
He took his seat, hoping none of the other customers at the counter knew him. The people seated closest to him were teenagers, so at least he didn’t have to worry about them.
Trish returned quickly. “Let me guess. A burger and fries.”
Beck smiled. “Right. How did you know?”
“That’s what you always ordered when you came with Helen.”
“Not always.”
“Most of the time. Besides, you’ve been unpacking, so you need hearty food. How about a milkshake to go with it?”
That sounded too heavy, even as hungry as he was. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with tea, but you might talk me into a piece of pie afterward.”
“Good. Chocolate crème is the one you want tonight.”
He grinned. “Yes, I think it is.”
Trish grabbed a glass, set it in front of him, and filled it with tea. “Lemon?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She dropped two slices into the tea, and then he took a sip.
Whoa. He’d forgotten that Trish’s tea was practically simple syrup with a slight tea flavor, just like his grandma used to make. It was intense, but it tasted like home, even if Ames Bridge had never really been home.
You know your grandmother’s house always felt more like a home than your own.
That’s why he was going to have a hard time selling it. But what was the alternative? Make a life for himself here? Not likely.
“So how—”
“I don’t know how long I’m staying, or what I’m going to do with Grandma’s land.”
Trish laughed. “I knew that already. Irene and Elsie stopped by as soon as they’d seen you.”
“And you probably also heard it from Lucy and Dale, or Cal, or Miss Mary Ellen and Miss Sara Belle. I saw them in the grocery store.”
“The first night you were here. I know.”
She was scary. “What don’t you know?”
Her smile had a touch of evil to it. “Very little.”
“Then why don’t I just sit here and let you tell me things.”
She slapped at his arm with the dish towel. “Listen to you. You’re still as much of a rascal as you were twenty years ago when you first started coming here.”
Not usually, but Trish made it easy to be whoever you wanted to be.
“How are you settling in?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “Don’t you know?”
“I want to hear your version.”
“I’ve unpacked most of what I brought, but I haven’t even started going through Grandma’s stuff. There’s so much of it, and it’s strange seeing it all there, just as it was. It makes me miss her more.”
Trish nodded. “I miss her too.”
She started to say more, but several new customers came in, and she had to go tend to them. Beck managed to eat his burger in relative peace. Trish bustled around him, but she left him alone, and while he heard his name mentioned in a few whispered conversations, no one approached him.
The dinner rush had slowed by the time Trish brought his chocolate pie.
“So I hear Cal’s already been to see you a few times.” At least she didn’t mention the incident with Jigsaw. He was hoping the town didn’t know about that.
“He has, and he said the craziest thing.”
Trish leaned on the counter, moving closer so they could speak in low voices. “What was that?”
“He thinks Grandma wouldn’t sell the land to him because he’s gay. But that’s ridiculous. She and I never talked outright about my sexuality, but she knew and she still loved me just the same.”
“Oh.” Trish frowned. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“So you agree? Grandma wouldn’t have turned Cal down just because of that.”
“No, Cal’s wrong. That’s not why your grandma disliked him. I’m guessing your grandma never told you about her and Martha.”
“Cal’s mama?”
Trish nodded.
“No, we always visited, and Grandma took flowers and honey and got jam and eggs in return. Then we just stopped going over there. I never asked why. I was getting older, and Cal didn’t like me.”
“I’m not sure Cal—” Trish tilted her head like she was considering what to say next. “Cal’s changed a lot in the last few years.”
He tensed when he remembered fighting to slow Jigsaw. “He’s still treating me just like he did.”
Trish smiled. “Well, you are a special case.”
What did that mean? “Because I was the nerdiest kid he ever met?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Well, what, then?”
She waved her hand as if brushing his question away. “Let’s stick to one thing at a time.”
Why was she being so mysterious?
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but your grandma wouldn’t sell to Cal because she was angry at Martha.”
“Why? What happened?”
Trish glanced around. “Good, it doesn’t look like anyone’s listening. It’s one of the few scandals that never managed to get all the way around town.”
“Scandal?” Beck had a hard time imagining his grandma and Miss Martha involved in a scandal.
Trish nodded. “I’m sure you know your Grandpa Ralph was one of the men who formed the original committee to restore the bridge.”
Beck had heard all about that. His grandfather had died a few years before he was born, but his grandma loved to tell stories about him.
“He helped raise money from citizens, but more importantly, he wrote the grant proposal that won us the big dollars from the state.”
“Right. Grandma had a copy of the grant certificate in a frame on the wall.”
“She sure did.” Trish smiled. “So after that happened, people started saying Ralph ought to run for office—state house or even senate—and he was considering it. He had the backing of a lot of people both in town and all over the district. Then some people found out he had a still and sold moonshine, and well, you know how some people around here are about liquor.”
Did he ever. The town had been dry when he was a child, and it hadn’t been all that many years since that had changed. Trish had started selling beer and wine as soon as she could, and she’d lost some customers over it at first.
“Ralph didn’t just enjoy his shine himself. He sold it illegally, so even if folks had gotten over him indulging in alcohol, he risked his opponents pushing for charges against him. The fact that some of them were his customers didn’t seem to matter to anybody.”
“But that’s—”
“Just how things are.” Trish patted his shoulder.
Beck hated how things were, and that was just another example of why he couldn’t live here.
“But what’s that got to do with grandma and Miss Martha? That all happened before I was born.”
Trish nodded. “Right, but it wasn’t until you were in your teens that your grandma found out it was Martha’s daddy, Big Al, that ratted Ralph out.”
“What? I thought they were friends.”
“That’s right. Big Al was on the bridge committee with your grandfather, and he got jealous when he saw how much better your grandfather was at raising money.”
Beck frowned. “That wasn’t Martha’s fault.”
“When your grandma confronted her, she defended Big Al, and they probably both said things they shouldn’t.”
Beck could easily imagine that. His grandma did have a temper. “Why couldn’t Martha see how wrong it was of her dad to—”
“Do you really think she could admit he was wrong?” Trish raised her brows. “She was really close to her daddy, and after having lost him a few years before…”
“Yeah, she wasn’t going to back down, was she?”
“Nope. So your grandma stopped speaking to her.”
“And Cal doesn’t know?”
She shrugged. “I guess not. Martha must not have told him what happened. Maybe she was embarrassed about it.”
“Well, she should be. Her father should never’ve treated a friend like that.”
Trish sighed. “We’ll never know the whole story.”
Beck knew Trish was right, but after the way Cal had acted earlier, he wasn’t feeling very charitable.
After a few moments of silence, Trish said, “Cal’s got a school group coming tomorrow.”
“Does he? He told me he’d been doing tours.”
Trish scowled. “He’d do lots more if people here weren’t such damn fools. He’s a good man, and I don’t know why people get so hung up on him liking butt sex.”
Down on the Farm (Ames Bridge Book 1) Page 5