Down on the Farm (Ames Bridge Book 1)

by Silvia Violet

  When he got out, Cal hadn’t answered. After talking himself both into and out of it at least five times while he got dressed, he decided to walk over there. It was a gorgeous day, and he’s spent most of it shut inside, going through dusty cabinets and boxes.

  He crossed the field until he reached Cal’s driveway. About halfway to the house, Katie came bounding toward him, nearly knocking him down in her enthusiasm to see him.

  “Hey there.” He scratched her ears. When she swiped her tongue across his face, he pushed her back. “Down, girl. Down.”

  She hesitated, paws on his shoulders, seeming to consider whether he was someone she had to obey or not.

  “Katie.” He gave her a firm look, which wasn’t easy when she looked so goofy with her tongue lolling out. But finally she did as he said. “Where’s Cal, girl?” She cocked her head to the side. “Can you take me to him?”

  She barked and took off. He picked up his pace, but he had no hope of catching her. Eventually, she circled back, then ran ahead, then circled back. She seemed to be taking him toward the barn.

  Sure enough, when they were almost there, Cal, José, and another man stepped out of the barn and stood against the corral fence, watching as a woman trotted around the ring on a white mare.

  Katie barked excitedly, and Cal turned. Beck certainly hadn’t expected Cal to run and grab him up in his arms. He’d agreed to keep the fact that they were seeing each other—fucking each other—secret, but Cal didn’t even smile. He looked like he might if Katie had brought him a dead squirrel rather than the man he’d fucked into oblivion a few nights ago.

  It was his own fault. He shouldn’t have come. Cal would’ve texted him back eventually if he’d wanted to see him.

  “Beck.” Cal greeted him like someone he barely knew.

  The other men turned. He vaguely recognized the man whose name he didn’t know as one of the younger boys who’d often tagged along with Cal and his friends.

  “Rick, you remember Beck, don’t you?”

  Oh, yes, it was Rick Stancil. His father was the minister at First Presbyterian, a liberal church by Ames Bridge standards.

  Rick nodded. “Sure do. I heard you were living at your grandma’s place now.”

  “Yeah, I am. Temporarily.”

  “Did you have a question about the rental contract?” Cal asked him.

  “The…” Beck faltered for a moment before getting it. Cal wanted to pretend that the only reason they’d be seeing each other was business. Or maybe he’d changed his mind in the last couple of days.

  “So you’re going to rent your land to Cal?” Rick asked.

  “The pastures, yeah, not the house,” Beck said. “But I don’t have the contract ready yet. I thought we could talk about it over dinner if you’re wrapping up for the day?”

  Cal frowned. “I’ve got to head into town for a few things, but I could grab a pizza and stop back by your place.”

  “Or I could ride with you, and we could stop at Trish’s. I’m craving pie after all the cleaning I’ve been doing.”

  Cal shook his head. “It’ll be too noisy there to talk business.”

  So Cal wouldn’t even be seen in public with him if they were talking “business.” Beck shouldn’t be upset. He’d agreed to this, right? But he hadn’t hidden anything about himself since the end of his freshman year of college, and he didn’t want to go back now. It wasn’t like he was going to hold hands with Cal or—God forbid—kiss him at Trish’s diner. They would just be two guys having dinner, nothing more, but even that was obviously too much for Cal.

  You said yourself that just talking to each other would start rumors.

  Fuck rumors.

  You knew starting something with Cal was a bad idea.

  My dick didn’t.

  It did. It just didn’t care.

  Fair enough.

  “All right. I’d been planning to make a few lasagnas to reheat through the week. I’ll just put one of those in the oven.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  It would give him something to think about other than how much Cal’s dismissal hurt. “No, it’s fine.”

  “Okay, why don’t you take Katie with you? She needs to run around. I haven’t been able to play with her much today, and she loves lasagna.”

  Katie perked up at the mention of her name. She’d been lying in the sun, watching the whole exchange.

  Beck forced a smile. “What dog wouldn’t?”

  Cal trusted him with his dog; that should say a lot. And yet, being willing to be seen with him at a diner would be even better.

  “Katie girl, go on with Beck.”

  Katie jumped up and circled Beck, barking wildly. And just like that he was dismissed and assigned the role of dog sitter.

  You love Katie.

  I do, but…

  “Nice to see you again, Rick, José,” Beck said. He didn’t say anything else to Cal.

  When he started down the road, Katie bounded after him. He picked up a stick and tossed it for her. She raced ahead and circled back as she had before, seeming to know exactly where they were headed. Once they were cutting across the fields, they abandoned the game, and she stayed by Beck’s side.

  “What am I going to do about your father, Katie?”

  She cocked her head, looking like she was listening intently. Maybe she was. She probably had more sense than either him or Cal right now.

  “I want him, but I don’t think I can handle hiding. Maybe it’s better if I just end things now. Well, except for the business relationship.”

  Katie gave him a sad look. She couldn’t possibly understand him, could she?

  “I’ve never been good at the whole fuck-buddies thing, and I’ve never had to keep an actual relationship secret. It fucking sucks.”

  Katie whined and nuzzled against him. He laid a hand on her back.

  He was talking to a dog about his sex life. This was what he’d sunk to.

  ***

  Later that evening, Beck’s phone buzzed with a text. It was Cal.

  On my way.

  OK

  Any chance he’d apologize for blowing Beck off?

  Why would he when he probably thought it was all part of the secrecy deal?

  About fifteen minutes later, he heard Cal drive up.

  “You want a beer?” Beck asked when he let Cal in.

  “Hell yes.”

  Beck grabbed one for each of them from the fridge. “I’m baking the lasagna, but it won’t be ready for a while. You want some garlic bread as an appetizer?”

  Cal nodded. “If you put it in front of me, I may eat the whole damn loaf.”

  Beck shrugged as he set the bread basket on the table. “There’s another one in the freezer if you do.”

  Cal tore off a large piece, wolfed it down, and grabbed another before taking a sip of beer.

  Beck sat across from him, fiddling with his beer bottle. Had he really expected Cal to apologize?

  “So you do realize I can’t do anything about the rental contract until Monday, right?”

  “Yeah, that was just a cover.” Cal waved his hand, dismissing what he’d said. “But dinner sounded nice, and I was hoping to bend you over the end of the bed later. Or maybe now.”

  “Aren’t you exhausted from working all day?”

  He grinned. “I saved enough energy for you.”

  Beck rolled his eyes.

  “How long until the lasagna’s ready?”

  “Long enough for me to talk to you about some more ideas for the farm.”

  Cal groaned.

  “You can’t be that horny, and you did say this would be a business meeting.”

  “I had to say something, and I’m always fucking horny since you moved back. Every time I think about you, I get hard. I’ve been wanting you all day.”

  Beck grinned, prouder of his effect on Cal than he should be.

  “Did you know I did event planning as a side job?”

  “Really?”

&n
bsp; Beck nodded. “So if you like some of these ideas, I could help.”

  Cal groaned. “We’re really not going to fuck until you talk to me?”

  Beck hadn’t minded Cal’s initial teasing, but he’d had enough. He was trying to help Cal, and all he cared about was a hole to sink his dick into. “Do you really think you can just show up and fuck me whenever you want to? Is that how you think this works?”

  Cal’s eyes widened. “No. Sorry. I’m just…”

  “I’m not sitting here waiting for you to decide no one’s looking so you can slip across the fields for a fuck.”

  Cal’s expression turned serious, as if he’d just realized Beck wasn’t teasing. “I don’t think of it like that, like you’re just here to service me or something. I really thought you… That you’d be…wanting it too, unless… Is there someone else?”

  Beck smacked his forehead. Was Cal really that dense? “Who the hell would it be?”

  Cal shrugged. “Someone better at keeping secrets than me.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  “I… Fuck, what do you want?”

  Beck sighed. He wanted something he couldn’t have. “Is it always going to be like that if I come see you? Like it was today.”

  “I warned you that I have to keep things secret, so I don’t know why you’re pissed at me.”

  I’m not so much pissed as hurt. “You did tell me. I guess I just still thought we could be friends.”

  “People assume friends equal fucking since we’re both gay.”

  “So we’re not just secret lovers, but secret friends too.”

  Cal closed his eyes, and Beck watched his chest rise and fall.

  “Or maybe we’re just not friends?” Beck asked. “Maybe we’re just guys who use each other to get off.”

  Cal shook his head. “No, I don’t want it to be like that. Can’t we just talk about your ideas for the farm now instead of arguing?”

  Beck didn’t want to argue either, and there really wasn’t any point in it. “Fine.” He took a deep breath. “Remember how my grandmother had huge flower beds and sold cut flowers?”

  “Yeah, sure. Mama always bought flowers from her before they stopped talking. Mama never could get flowers to grow as well as she could vegetables.”

  “She used a lot of antique varieties, and I want to experiment with some of the seeds. I need to rebuild several of her raised beds and do some more research. As I was looking through the records she kept, it occurred to me that if you added some flower gardens near where the trail goes into the woods, it would enhance that part of the farm during peak tourist season and add—”

  “A whole lotta work.”

  Beck held up a hand. “Hear me out. Yes, there would be work involved, but you could sell the flowers at the farmer’s market and include them in your CSA shares. Plenty of farms do flower shares.”

  Cal nodded. “Yeah, but I know next to nothing about flowers.”

  “I’d help.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Why was he? He was bored, and he wanted Cal to succeed, and… He wasn’t going to analyze it any more. “Like I told you when I helped with the tour, I want to help you improve your farm. It’s good for everyone here.”

  “Beck, I never meant for you to—”

  “This isn’t about you expecting something from me. It’s not even really about you. I get that you may find it hard to believe, but I actually care about this community. I’d love for more tourists to visit and help turn the economy around. And the more business your farm gets, the more people you can hire. Your farm is an asset to the community.”

  “And you want all the bigots to see that.”

  Beck nodded. “That’s another benefit.”

  “So you really think flower gardens and trail rides could draw in tourists?”

  “I do. And the gardens would be a place to host events like weddings, rehearsal dinners, birthday parties.”

  Cal frowned. “I don’t think my horses would like having that many people running around the farm.”

  “Your horses?”

  He sighed. “Or me. But I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” Simply having Cal listen without dismissing him was good enough for now.

  “Can we fuck now?”

  Beck groaned. “Cal.”

  “Sorry. If you make some clear plans and maybe some sketches, I’ll look over them, and if I like them, I’ll hire you to coordinate it.”

  “I’m not an architect or anything, but—”

  “You can draw. I remember how good you were.”

  Heat rushed to Beck’s cheeks. “I might need to come to the farm and draw from observation. Is that going to bother you?”

  “No, that’s business.”

  “So we can do business, but we can’t be friends?”

  “Beck, this isn’t easy for me. I can only…”

  “Change so much?”

  Cal nodded.

  Beck studied him, his gaze running over Cal’s gorgeous arms, which were propped on the table.

  Damn, he was a fine man. So he couldn’t give Beck everything he wanted. He’d been honest from the beginning, and Beck wasn’t going to be here forever.

  “Can we fuck now?” Beck asked.

  Cal grinned. “You’re serious, right?”

  The timer beeped for the lasagna. “Yes, but after dinner.”

  “What? Won’t it need to cool?”

  Cal’s look of horror made Beck laugh. “I thought you were starving.”

  “Yes.” Cal gave him a slow once-over as if his gravelly tone hadn’t made it clear enough he wasn’t just hungry for food. “I am.”

  Beck pulled the lasagna from the oven and set it on a rack to cool. Then he turned to Cal. “Or…”

  “Or?”

  “We could watch some Project Runway.”

  Cal glared at him. “Don’t you—”

  “Did I hear you say something about putting me over the end of the bed?”

  Cal growled. “Fuck yes.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They raced upstairs, falling over each other and laughing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Beck woke and stretched. Mmm. His ass ached, but it was a nice feeling. He turned over, not really expecting Cal to still be there, yet still disappointed to see the other side of the bed empty.

  Maybe one day he’d stay all night.

  Or maybe not.

  At least Cal seemed to be making a regular habit of coming over in the late evening—if the last few days were any indication—and he hadn’t outright rejected Beck’s ideas to improve the farm. He wasn’t sure himself why he was so eager to help Cal other than simply needing something to focus on besides cleaning, sorting, and berating himself for not knowing what his next step would be. Oh, and stupidly longing for more than just a quick fuck. No, he wasn’t going to think about that anymore.

  Working on a proposal for Cal would be a great reward for getting some of the tasks he’d been putting off done, like sorting through his grandmother’s attic. No telling what was up there; probably a lot of stuff he didn’t want, but he still had to at least look through it.

  But if he was going to do some proper sketching of his vision for the farm, he’d need some art supplies. He had some drawing pencils, but he’d love some higher-quality ones. He also needed a large drawing pad, a new eraser, and, ideally, some watercolors. He’d tossed his old ones, which were mostly dry when he’d moved.

  Where did a person find quality art supplies in Ames Bridge?

  Maybe it was time to stop hiding on the farm and go downtown. From what he’d heard, several new shops and restaurants had opened up in the last few years—his last visits before his grandmother died had been short and never included going downtown. Possibly one of these new places sold what he needed. If not, then he could at least buy a Mother’s Day gift, a birthday present for his sister, and find a new place for lunch. He’d told Cal he wanted to su
pport the town, so he might as well follow through on that.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. It would be several more hours before most shops were open, so breakfast and some attic cleaning needed to happen first. He glanced at the hatch containing the attic stairs as he made his way to the kitchen. He so did not want to go up there.

  He started some coffee and then stared into the fridge. What should he eat? Hmmm. Maybe pancakes would give him the energy he needed. He pulled out eggs and butter and then opened a cabinet where he could find the other necessary ingredients. Pancakes always made him feel good. Of course, they’d be better if he had someone to share them with, someone like a stubborn blue-eyed cowboy fantasy come to life.

  But that wasn’t going to happen, so he whipped up the batter, got the griddle heating, and even made strawberry syrup with local berries he’d gotten at a fruit stand the day before.

  After a few hot, humid hours of sorting through clothes, papers, and knickknacks that should have been tossed out years ago, he showered, dressed, and headed into town. Spring Avenue was the central street, and he found a parallel spot in front of Paint with Pax.

  When he got out of the car, he took a few moments to look around. Many of the storefronts looked fresher than they had a few years ago, and the town had created a small park next the old railroad depot. He spotted a new sandwich shop next to Pax’s gallery. The antique mall seemed to have expanded, and there was a new boutique that looked like it sold handmade purses, wallets, and other small bags. He wasn’t sure that would last long, but it was good to see someone making a go of it.

  He pushed open the door of Ames Bridge Art, the gallery Pax owned, which was adjacent to the pottery painting business. As soon as he saw the amazing glasswork on display, he knew he’d find a present for his mother there. He was also anxious for a chance to talk to Pax. They’d met a few times, but they didn’t know each other well. Pax was five years older, so they hadn’t spent time around each other as kids, and Pax had moved back to town after Beck had stopped coming there regularly.

  From what Beck heard, things were going well with both businesses, but he wanted some firsthand news. He wished Cal would talk to Pax more, since they were the only openly gay business owners in town. But Cal probably thought everyone would assume they were a couple if they talked longer than it would take to make a business transaction.