Pax and a few of his employees were working with a school group on the painting side—Beck estimated they were fifth or sixth graders. He waved, and Pax mouthed “just a minute.” Beck browsed the gallery while he waited. The patterns Pax was able to create in his glass bowls were unbelievable. Beck was drawn immediately to one with swirls of orange and yellow. Pax seemed to have captured the sun in its color variations.
“Locals get a discount.”
Beck turned to see Pax in the doorway of the gallery. “Thank you, but I don’t really count as a local.”
“You do for now.” Pax assessed Beck the way Beck had been studying the art. “Maybe you’ll even find something here that makes you want to stay.”
“Like you did?” Beck had hardly been able to believe it when he’d heard Pax had moved home and was opening a gallery.
He nodded. “Once I got this place going, I realized I was proud of it, and I genuinely like the people who’ve given me a chance.”
“I love Grandma’s house, and I used to love working in the gardens with her, but I can’t imagine settling down here.”
“Give yourself a little more time. You might find a reason.”
Beck narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying something?”
Pax shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Are there already rumors about…?”
“You and Cal?” Pax laughed. “Sweetie, there were rumors before you even got to town.”
Beck rolled his eyes. “Why? He hated me in high school.”
“Are you so sure?”
Beck chose not the answer. “I’d love to get this bowl for my mother.”
Pax smiled. “I’m so glad. This is my favorite of the ones I’ve made this year. I’ll wrap it up for you.”
“Thanks.”
As Pax was pulling out sheets of tissue paper from behind the counter, he said, “I was about to take my lunch break. You want to join me?”
“I’d love to, but will there be rumors about us now?”
Pax laughed. “Of course. It will be all over town that you went out with me to make Cal jealous.”
“If all these people disapprove of gay men so strongly, you’d think they’d spend less time pairing us up.”
“You might think, but I’d be rich if I had a dollar for every time I hear things like ‘My great-niece’s friend’s cousin is gay. He lives in Charlotte, but maybe she could set you up.’”
“Seriously?”
Pax entered the sale into an iPad mounted on the counter and flipped it so Beck could sign. “You know how it is. They’re fascinated by us like we’re some sort of exotic creatures.”
Beck snorted as he used a finger to sign his name. “That’s so ridiculous.”
Pax rolled his eyes. “Of course it is, but that doesn’t stop them. You want to try the sandwich shop on the corner? It’s new since you’ve been in town.”
“Sure.”
The school group was lining up to leave. Pax let his assistants know he was leaving, and he and Beck headed out. When they reached the shop, Beck held the door open for Pax to enter, and they got in line at the counter.
“I recommend their chicken salad,” Pax said. “I’m not sure what they do to it, but it’s awesome.”
Beck went with Pax’s suggestion, and soon they were both seated with sandwiches and Cokes.
“Mmm, this is delicious.”
Pax nodded. “I have it for lunch now a few times a week.”
After they’d each had a few more bites, Beck said, “Doesn’t the way you get treated here drive you crazy?”
“Sure, sometimes more than others, but I’ve also made a lot of great friends here. I think I’ve even changed a few people’s minds about the evil gay agenda.”
“So you think Cal could be a little more open and still keep his farm going?”
“Ah,” Pax said, nodding. “Is that why he’s resisting you?”
Beck nearly choked on a bite of sandwich.
“Don’t try to deny it.”
Beck glanced around and then said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t say he’s doing a very good job of resisting.”
Pax’s eyes lit up. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, but please don’t say anything. I swore I’d keep it secret.” Why the hell had Beck just confessed that? Maybe because Paxton was easy to talk to. Beck didn’t have anyone else to share his frustration with. None of his friends back in Roswell would really understand his “relationship” with Cal.
“I’ll stay silent, but it won’t stop the rumors, if that’s what Cal is aiming for.”
Beck took a sip of his drink and sighed. “Apparently nothing will, but I think he worries more about us actually being seen together than rumors.”
“I thought things were going very well with the farm.”
Beck nodded. “I think they are, but he wants to do more things like school tours, lessons, trail rides, and enough people are already skeptical, so…” Beck hesitated. Cal would hate for him to be spilling all his worries to Pax. “I probably shouldn’t talk about this.”
“Listen, I understand. No one thought I could make the gallery sustainable when I started it. And Cal’s right; there are plenty of people who don’t want their kids touring his farm. But there are also a lot who support him, even if they wouldn’t vote for gay rights or tell their preacher how they really felt. There were people who questioned my working with kids too, but after a while I rarely got any serious pushback.”
“Cal’s afraid people couldn’t handle him openly dating someone, so he’s really only halfway out of the closet.”
“Yeah, I figured that was how it was.”
Beck took another bite of his sandwich and then asked, “Any advice?”
“Give him time. Make suggestions, but don’t push; or maybe don’t listen to me, since I haven’t had a relationship that lasted more than a few months since college.”
Beck laughed. “You’ve made your gallery profitable for several years running in a small conservative town, while also running the pottery painting business, though.”
“That I have.” Pax polished off the last of his sandwich and then looked at his watch. “I should probably get back.”
Beck nodded. “It’s been good talking to you. Is there anywhere around here that sells decent art supplies?”
“What kind of supplies?”
“I want to do some sketching. I’ve got some ideas of how Cal could improve the farm, and I want to draw them and possibly add watercolor.”
“Do you remember Imani? She’s a year or two older than Cal.”
“Yes. She was one of the few kids who liked to read like I did. I saw her at the library a lot when we were kids.”
“Well, she recently opened a new shop on the corner of Central Street and Spring Avenue that’s ostensibly a stationary store, but they have a lot of basic art supplies too. I’d try there.”
“Thanks, I will. And thanks for the encouragement.”
He smiled. “Anytime, and tell Cal I’d love to catch up with him.”
“I will.” Not that he thought Cal would take him up on the offer unless it was done in secret.
“And you stop by again soon. We could even really set tongues wagging and go out for a beer one evening.”
“I’d hate to be responsible for sending half the town into a swoon, but that sounds nice, really nice.” Having a friend here would make the next few months a hell of a lot better. Having a friend and a lover—who actually acted like one—might make him want to… No, he wasn’t staying; nothing was worth that sacrifice.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cal saw Beck heading out to make sketches of the future flower garden—after some research and emails with other area farmers, Cal had basically decided to go with the idea unless the cost was too prohibitive. He wanted to take a break and follow Beck, talk to him, make out with him, but doing so in the middle of the morning when he had plenty of chores to do was more obvious than he wanted to be. Of course, if he weren’
t so damn worried what people would think, he would put that work off at least long enough to go say hello.
As if you could stop with that once you see him.
Fine, maybe he couldn’t, which was another reason not to follow him. The last thing he needed was to be caught kissing a man in a field in broad daylight. What would it be like to feel that free? If he were caught with a woman, he might get some teasing, but no one would actually care. Why the fuck couldn’t it just be the same?
But try as he might, his thoughts kept returning to images of Beck sitting on the hill with his sketchbook. So once the bulk of the morning chores were done in the horse barn, he sent José and Rick to do some repairs on the pig enclosure and told them to take lunch when they were finished.
Once they were gone, he walked up the road. Was Beck still out that way? He hadn’t seen him come back, but he’d been in the barn for a while. When Cal reached the top of the hill overlooking the barn on one side and the woods on the other, he saw Beck sitting in the grass, sketchbook on his lap, a canvas roll that probably held pencils or brushes spread out next to him. The wind ruffled Beck’s hair, and Cal stood watching him as he pushed it off his face and then focused back on his drawing. He was so fucking beautiful. His glasses had slipped down his nose, which only served to accentuate his sharp cheekbones. And the humidity had made his hair curl against his neck. Cal wanted to bite him right below those curls.
Beck was too perfect for him, and soon he would be leaving. But no matter how much that hurt, Cal couldn’t look away. He’d thought he’d be able to fuck Beck and have that be enough, but it wasn’t, not at all. Yet asking for more was impossible.
Beck hadn’t seen him yet, so he could turn around and walk back to the barn. That would be wise, because if he sat down and let Beck show off his sketches or talk about the farm or show interest in Cal’s life, the longing to keep him, to turn this into something real, might become unbearable.
Even if Cal decided to risk everything by openly dating Beck, there was only the smallest chance that Beck would stay. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be in Ames Bridge longer than he needed to. And yet, there he was, making plans for Cal’s farm. What did it matter, though? Cal wasn’t going to take that risk. He couldn’t. Beck just needed a place to lick his wounds and regroup—and a warm body to soothe him while he did so. Cal wouldn’t give up the chance to be the man who did that for him, even if he’d have to fight off Beck’s attempts to make him a better man and to give him a chance to feel things he shouldn’t, soft, tender things rather than just lust.
He’d fought so hard not to need anything from men that wasn’t physical. He couldn’t help that his cock stood up for men instead of women, but he could choose not to couple up. So he’d told himself romantic love was a bunch of bullshit. Love was something he felt for his family, and he didn’t need it from anyone else.
Except now he realized he’d been wrong, really fucking wrong. Because he needed Beck, badly.
He didn’t turn around and go back to the barn. He closed the distance between them and sat on the ground beside Beck, ignoring the pain in his chest that threatened to tear him in two.
Beck glanced his way. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” Cal laced his fingers together to keep from reaching out to touch Beck.
“You taking a break?”
“Yeah. I need to go finish up some planting, but I saw you head out this way while I was tending the horses, so…”
“So you came to say hi?”
Cal nodded.
“You want to see what I’m working on?”
Cal barely heard what Beck said. He’d become mesmerized by his lips. Did he dare kiss him out here? “Um… Yeah, sure.”
“Okay. You don’t have to if you’re not—”
“No, I want to see them. I just got distracted. You’re really distracting, you know?”
Beck grinned. “Am I, now?”
“Yes, and you know it.”
“But I’m just sitting here drawing.”
“Looking all tan and scruffy and gorgeous like a fucking summer fling fantasy.”
Cal scooted closer and forced himself to focus on Beck’s sketchbook. “Whoa. That’s amazing. I knew you could draw, but it looks so real, like you captured my farm just as it should be and infused it into the paper.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Cal looked up from the drawing. Beck’s cheeks had turned pink, but he held Cal’s gaze, and Cal wanted to kiss him so badly.
He forced himself to focus on the drawing and then on the field in front of them, the entrance to the trail, the area where the flower beds would be. Beck’s drawing had him convinced. The whole area would come alive with the changes.
“This all looks incredible. I love what you’ve envisioned for the trail entrance. It’s scruffy as hell right now.” He gestured toward the overgrown area. He’d been meaning to trim away some of the intrusive vines for ages. “And I love that you put the beds into a hexagon, not just rows. The benches and the arbor will make it a great event space if I decide to host some.”
“You could do it with help.”
“Yeah, I could.” Would Beck help? Was there any chance he’d stay and build up an event-planning business here? How could Cal ask him to, when he had so little to offer?
“You really think these changes will make a difference to tourists?” Cal asked.
Beck nodded. “Visitors are impressed by these kinds of details. Sure they’re here to see a working farm, but they want it prettied up. They want to see a rural fantasy. We can roll our eyes at that, but if you’re trying to make money…”
“I am. And if people are willing to have events here, that could really help too.” Cal wanted to share Beck’s enthusiasm, but would enough people really trust him?
“They’ll be willing. There aren’t any good outdoor venues around here.”
“There’s Munson’s farm; they do—”
“Pig pickin’s and church spaghetti dinners, not upscale events,” Beck said.
Cal grimaced. “No one here does upscale.”
“They do, but they go elsewhere—Greensboro or High Point.”
“All right. I guess that’s true.” The business was there, but no one in Ames Bridge was capitalizing on it. Could he?
“What about that new school? Lawson Friends Academy. They’re not far from here, and considering how steep the tuition is, they probably do a number of fancy events.”
“That Quaker school?”
“Right. They’re located to pull in kids from a wide area—bigger towns and small ones like this—so they have a varied population. And Quakers welcome everyone.”
Cal nodded. “I’ll need to figure out costs for materials and labor. With everything else I’ve got going, I can’t do all this myself.”
“I know there’s a lot to consider, but I believe you can keep the budget fairly low, and I do think it’s a good way for you to expand. Though I have to be honest, my experience is in planning anniversary parties and elaborate birthdays. I’m not really a business planner.”
“I bet you’d be great at that. You’re persuasive and enthusiastic and smart as hell.”
Beck flushed again. “Thanks.”
“You’re also…”
“What?”
Cal reached out and brushed the back of his fingers over Beck’s cheek.
Beck stilled, his eyes widening.
Was he shocked by Cal touching him out here or by his tenderness? “Thank you for caring about the farm.”
“That’s not all I care about.”
The words were soft and slightly hesitant.
Cal leaned closer, unable to help himself. One of the farm hands could come this way unexpectedly, but he couldn’t move away. He leaned in enough to brush his lips over Beck’s.
Beck sucked in his breath. “Someone could see us.”
“I know.”
Cal kissed him, softly at first and then harder, unable to hold ba
ck, the risk making it all that much hotter. Fear and need swirled in a confusion of emotions as Beck teased the roof of Cal’s mouth with his tongue.
Beck still held his sketchbook with one hand, but he slid the other into Cal’s hair, gripping tightly, like he was desperate to keep Cal there.
Cal groaned, reveling in the heat and taste of Beck. Then the sound of a motor made them jump apart. They stared at each other.
Cal’s breath was ragged. “I should go.”
Beck nodded. Cal hated seeing disappointment in his eyes, but even if he were willing to openly date Beck, he still wouldn’t fuck him in a field in the middle of the day.
“I shouldn’t have started that.”
Beck shook his head. “I’m glad you did. It was just hard to stop.”
“Yeah. I do want to talk more about your ideas.”
“Good.” Beck’s smile warmed Cal all the way to his toes.
“I’ll text you tonight.”
“Okay.”
Cal glanced toward the road that ran below them. Someone was approaching on the tractor, but they weren’t in sight yet, so he gave Beck a quick kiss before he stood.
Beck brought his fingers to his lips and rubbed them. “Damn, I wish we were alone.”
Cal nodded. “Me too, but I gotta go.” He took off running back toward the barn because if he stayed any longer, he might do something truly crazy.
***
Later that afternoon, Beck’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was Warren, a friend from college who now taught at a private school in Charlotte. They usually talked every month or two.
He answered the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Not too much for me, but I’ve got a job opportunity for you.”
“At your school?”
“Yep. I just found out one of the English teachers is leaving. The job’s not even posted yet, but if you send me your résumé, I can get you an interview.”
“Oh, wow.” Beck sat down as way too many thoughts buzzed in his head. Did he want to go back to teaching? He was supposed to be figuring out his future, but the only thing he’d learned so far was that he wanted a lot more from Cal than the proverbial farm boy roll in the hay.
Down on the Farm (Ames Bridge Book 1) Page 11