by B. G. Thomas
Way awesome? Did I have to watch for him too?
Well, not “too,” I remembered. Because Cole was gay. My stomach clenched, and I glanced around me. Was he here? Where was Mr. Some-people-are-gay-they-can’t-help-it?
“Now where did Robin and Crystal get off to?” Amy asked and looked at the crowd around the porch. I saw where she was looking and glanced that way myself.
Would I recognize him?
And what the hell was I even looking for him for?
I saw both our daughters hugging some girls about their age. I couldn’t miss them with their red hair. Their auburn locks blazed in the sunlight.
You’d never know I was a part of the family. As I said, only Todd looked anything like me, and that was only an accident of genetics. I don’t know why, but I had a flash of loneliness, even with so much family and so many people around.
“There they are.” I pointed, although from the smile on Amy’s face I realized she had already seen them. “Did you want to join them?”
“They’re with friends,” she replied. “I was just curious. It’s not like they aren’t safe.”
I nodded. Safe. As long as they weren’t thrown by horses.
“As long as they watch for rattlesnakes.”
My eyes popped. I couldn’t help it. “Rattlesnakes?”
She nodded casually. “Western diamondbacks. Timbers. Western pygmies.” As if she were talking about the local herbs and birds.
I could feel the color drain from my face. Western diamondbacks? Timbers? Western pygmies?
She nodded again and barely spared me a glance. “But I don’t think any of them are particularly deadly.”
Particularly deadly?
“I mean, you don’t want to be bit by one. It’s going to hurt. But they have antivenom here, and the wranglers even carry it on them—I think—so you won’t die.”
I looked around me. At the ground. Then back to the car. Was it too late to leave? I could check myself into a local hotel and come get everybody when it was time to go home.
“Neil?”
I turned back to her, willing my heart to calm down.
She smiled. “I’m pulling your leg.”
I blinked at her. “Huh?”
“Kidding.”
“Kidding?”
She nodded, and I was flooded with relief.
You bitch, I mouthed, and she burst into laughter.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “I’m nervous enough.”
“I couldn’t help it.” She laughed again. “But seriously, there are snakes. The great thing about rattlers is that they warn you. I don’t remember anyone ever getting bitten.”
I swallowed. Hard. It almost hurt.
“It’s the cottonmouths you have to watch out for. They don’t warn and they don’t run. They lie very still and if you step on them—bam!—”
I jumped a foot.
“—they get you.”
Oh you bitch, you bitch, you bitch…. And was she being serious or messing with me again?
She looked at me again, her expression both serious and sparkling with mirth. “Relax. Just make sure you’re wearing your boots. They can’t hurt you, then.”
And again, this gave me no relief.
I took a deep breath and tried to think of other things. Like the people. A lot more people than I’d expected. “I can’t believe all these people. I thought the website said they took no more than thirty guests. How many people work here?”
“Oh, about ten or fifteen, I’d guess. What with the owners and cooks and housekeeping,” Amy explained. “Most of these people are guests, but some are leaving. That’s Sunday for you. Guests arrive and guests leave. For an hour or two, it’s orchestrated chaos. The people who’ve been here all week will leave, and we’ll have lunch while the staff madly cleans the rooms. I bet it’s a sight.” She laughed. “I need a cleaning person at my house like that!”
Amy had gone through quite a few housecleaners in her time. She had a very high standard for her home, especially after having to make sure it was clean enough during Owen’s sickness.
Me? Since Em’s death, I’d done the best I could. I couldn’t afford to have someone in. Em had always been the real breadwinner, and that wasn’t even counting her share of the Olsen money. I’d gone through many a job before settling in at the call center. Because of the economy, one office after another closing down seemed to follow me like a bad dog. It wasn’t until my promotion that I even made close to anything Em had ever made. Which had kept me from losing the house and had kept the utilities running. I was lucky Crystal had such good grades and Em’s mother had set up a healthy trust fund for her college education. Plus what Emily had left her, of course. Otherwise it would have been community colleges and local universities. Not that Wagner U was anything to scoff at—and local residents got a discount and didn’t have to live on campus. Crystal, though, had her sights set on other places. One, in fact, not far from this ranch. Or at least a lot closer to Black Bear than Terra’s Gate. She needed to get away from small-town life, even if the town where she’d grown up wasn’t all that small—it was a college town, after all—and even though it was only about forty-five minutes from Kansas City with its population of nearly half a million people, two million counting the metro area.
At that moment, an elderly couple stepped out onto the porch.
“Come on,” Amy said. She took my hand and led me to the crowd. “That’s the Clarks. They own Black Bear.”
I went with her up the short walk to the porch. A line of wind chimes filled the air with tinkling music.
“Good morning, everyone,” the slightly plump woman said. She had her hair pulled back to accommodate a sky-blue cowboy hat. “To all of you who are leaving today, we hope you had a wonderful stay and that we’ll see you next year. Vincent and I loved having you, and our staff did as well. They tell me you’re about the best darned group we’ve ever had.”
“She always says that,” Amy whispered in my ear.
“For all our new guests, welcome! I’m Darla Clark and this is my husband, Vincent.”
Vincent was thinner and slightly taller than his wife. He reminded me of the man in the famous painting of the farm couple where the husband is holding a pitchfork (although Darla looked completely different from that wife). He had a slight smile that looked like it might have been painted on. His eyes, though, were bright and alert. Amused, even.
“We hope this is the best week of your whole year,” Darla continued. “It is so good to see familiar faces. Mr. and Mrs. Williams, welcome back. Mr. and Mrs. Beeler, we’ve missed you. Oh, Mrs. Radcliff! So good to see you and your family.”
Wow, I thought. This was real. Just like those kids, she remembers people she only sees once a year. Remarkable given the number of people she must see for months on end. It was one thing for the guests to recognize each other. They only had each other to remember. But Darla? How many months was Black Bear open to the public? How many people did she have to remember? And by name!
“For all you first-timers, we hope you find out fast why so many of our guests come back year after year.”
Year after year. It wasn’t only Amy and her family. Who would imagine taking the same vacation every year?
“Now, while your rooms are being prepared and your luggage handled, why don’t you all come in and have lunch?”
There was much excitement, and those of us who weren’t leaving headed for the double doors Darla indicated. That took us past the Clarks, of course, and she hugged each of us, while Vincent passed out either hugs or handshakes, depending on some reasoning to which I wasn’t privy.
Darla hugged Amy extra tight. “I’m so sorry about Mr. Radcliff,” she said, true sincerity in her voice. She looked like she might cry. “We sure are going to miss him around here.”
Vincent—obviously the quiet type—simply nodded.
“Thank you so much. We miss him too,” Amy said, and they hugged again.
“You
must be Crystal’s father,” Darla said, turning to me and giving me a strong hug.
The warmth of it took the edge off my surprise.
“Yes, I am, ma’am.”
“You can’t deny her, can you? Woulda known it if you hadn’t been standing here with Mrs. Radcliff.”
“Really?” I said, and damned if a tear didn’t suddenly threaten my eye. I had just been thinking Crystal didn’t look anything like me.
“We sure do love that daughter of yours. She’s something special. We’ve practically watched her grow up.”
She had, I realized. Crystal had been coming here for… how long? Since she was eight? Seven?
“Thank you.” I liked Darla already. She reminded me of my own grandmother.
Vincent leaned in, took my hand, and gave it a strong shake. “She is a great gal,” he said. “We’re kinda hopin’ she’ll join the Black Bear family once she graduates.”
Huh? I was surprised, but before I could say anything, Amy drew me into the building. We found ourselves in a large dining hall, guarded by a huge stuffed bear that stood just inside.
“Jesus,” I said, staring at its paws and the incredibly long and vicious-looking claws.
“Vincent shot it several years ago,” Todd said, excited. “Ain’t it dope?”
“Isn’t it,” Amy corrected.
“Isn’t it,” Todd said with great exaggeration.
“They’ve got bears on their property?” I asked, incredulous.
“Pop,” Crystal said, characteristically rolling her eyes, “this is Black Bear Guest Ranch!”
“Bears?” I repeated. Bears? Forget Trojan horses. Forget fucking snakes! Bears?
“They haven’t had one in quite a few years,” Amy reassured me and patted my back. “I don’t think you need to worry about them.”
“Famous last words,” I muttered. Bears?
Amy waved me into the dining hall, and even though I’d already seen the photos from the website, I was still pleasantly surprised. It was a large room, paneled in pine except for one stone wall with a giant fireplace. A dozen or so round tables were arranged around the room, seating about six people each. Some were most likely for the staff since there were more than enough seats for the guests.
At the first table, I saw place cards with names on them. “Assigned seating?” I asked.
“For this meal,” Amy explained. “So we can get matched up with our wrangler.”
As long as it it’s not the gay one.
“I sure hope we get Cole again,” my daughter said.
“Crystal,” I said a little too loudly. “You want him?” I glanced around me, hoping no one had heard the distaste in my voice.
“Neil!” Amy hushed me. “What’s wrong with Cole?” She looked surprised.
“How about the fact he’s homosexual?” I asked seriously.
Amy looked at me like I’d gone out of my mind, which only made it worse.
“You’re okay with that?” I asked. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate? This is a family place. Do you want our daughters around that?”
“Neil,” Amy said, “I can’t believe you’re saying that. Cole is a very nice young man. And hell, why wouldn’t I want him around our daughters? At least I don’t have to worry about him being ‘inappropriate.’ Plus he shows our girls that gay men are just people. It teaches them to appreciate the diversity in this world. I never had any idea you needed the same lesson.”
To my surprise, I saw that she was angry at me. I was speechless. I could count on one hand the number of times she’d been mad at me in the over three decades we’d known each other. I looked around the table at eyes just as hostile. Even Todd seemed upset.
Finally, trying to show her how incensed I was, I asked, “How did Owen feel about him?”
At that, Amy shook her head and the tension seemed to run out of her. “Owen? I don’t think he even knew. Owen could be so obtuse about certain things. He might have missed it if Cole made love to a man right on this table.”
Immediately, the image of two men lying naked in each other’s arms filled my mind. On our table. No! I thought, trying to push the picture away.
“Hey, everybody” came a loud and happy voice.
“Oh my God,” Crystal all but shouted. “Are you our wrangler?”
“I sure am, sweetie. You didn’t think I was going to let anybody else have you, did you?”
I turned in my chair to see a stunning young man standing over us with a huge platter of food.
It was Cole.
The gay one.
CHAPTER 3: Cole and Mystic
SOME PEOPLE don’t look like their pictures. The photographs do something to them. Make them look older or heavier or paler or puffier. Catches them with one eye half-closed or heavy-lidded, so they looked drunk or drugged out. Or with a strange sneer. Or maybe while they’re moving so everything is a blur.
I think I’m the most unphotogenic person in the world. Em and I had to spend hours going through wedding pictures before I found one I didn’t mind hanging on our wall.
None of this was true about Cole.
He looked just like his pictures—and more. If his photos had been good, in person he looked even taller, more muscular, and better-looking. He could’ve been a model or a movie star instead of a wrangler on a dusty ranch. His rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular arms bulging from the weight of the food he was holding. And those arms, they were so smooth, whereas mine were hairier. Would his chest be smooth too? I wondered.
Shit! Why did I care about that?
His smile was even more dazzling (and more disarming). And then there were his eyes.
Oh, those eyes! Intense. They were a deep, dark chocolate-brown, and so…. I struggled to find the right word. Exotic. Once again, I wondered if he had some mixed Asian ancestry because of their almost almond shape. His hair, dark brown as well, was cut fairly short, and it suited him perfectly. Made him look even more masculine.
Which is what he was—and more.
I found I wasn’t breathing and had to tell myself to inhale.
Cole set the tray down, and when he did, he was standing almost directly over me. I could smell him. He smelled like country, sunshine, and clean, honest man. I was finally breathing, and what I was breathing was the scent of him (even as I was asking myself what the hell I was doing).
“I hope you’re all hungry.” His voice was deep and delightful.
It was only when my brain connected that I smelled the food: open-faced beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes, all smothered in brown gravy, along with baby carrots. Finally something I could focus my attention on that was not the young man standing over me.
Cole passed out the plates and asked us what we wanted to drink. My throat was too dry to answer, and Amy, knowing my preference for iced tea, ordered for me with an amused smile and a raised eyebrow. It was like she could see what was happening to me. I looked away from her, but that only forced my attention on Cole’s retreating form, and, damn, his pants were tight.
I tore my eyes away from the sight and stared at my plate. Made myself dig in. One bite and it didn’t take much to keep my attention there, at least until Cole returned and took the only empty seat at the table—the one next to me.
“You must be Crystal’s daddy, right?” he said, unleashing his smile on me.
To my horror, I realized I was getting hard. Sweat began to trickle down my ribs, and once again I had to remind myself to breathe. I tried to answer, couldn’t, and nodded instead.
He held out his hand, and I could only stare at it. It was big, with long, square-tipped fingers.
Amy elbowed me, and I jerked and took his hand. For a moment it felt like it was a thousand degrees. I almost flinched.
But no.
It wasn’t hot.
It was no warmer than mine.
But it was so… alive. I felt like I’d never shaken hands before.
“I can see it,” Cole said. “She looks like you.”
> “She does?” I said, voice cracking like a teenage boy’s. It was the second time someone had said that within minutes. I cleared my throat and repeated, “She does?”
“Your eyes, for one thing,” Cole said, leaving his hand in mine. “She’s got your eyes.”
Was it normal for a man to hold another man’s hand this long? Was it long or was I being weird? Time suddenly seemed messed up.
“B-but her eyes are blue,” I managed. And my eyes were brown. Ordinary brown. Nothing like Cole’s.
I went to pull my hand away, and he held firm for just an instant longer. As he finally let go, he gave me a wink.
My heart skipped a beat. No. Several.
Then it hit me. Was he flirting? Was this gay boy flirting with me? In front of everyone?
Cole turned away and began to chat with the others at the table, catching up, catching them up. So Crystal was going away to college, huh? And Robin too? Had they gone to prom? Yes, but not with a boyfriend. No, he was not seeing anyone. Not in quite a while.
I sat there not saying a word. Amy shot me a look, and I shrugged. I took a long drink of my tea and felt better.
It had all been my imagination. All of it. Cole was not flirting. Of course not. And my reaction to him? It was just because it had been a long time since I had interacted with a gay man. I’d learned to dodge them. I could spot them from miles away, and I stayed clear.
I took a deep breath and a big bite of my food. Delicious. I had to use a fork. There was no picking this sandwich up.
Better.
Eating let me change my focus.
I took another drink.
Better.
AFTER LUNCH, Cole announced we were going to give the staff more time with our rooms and go horseback riding. Something had come up—nothing to worry about; it would be solved in a jiff—and the riding would give them a chance to finish the job right.
Plus it would give us the first choices in horses, he said, as if in some way that was supposed to thrill us.
Except it did seem to thrill my family. Apparently, we’d be a day or two up on everyone else.