Do You Trust Me?

by B. G. Thomas

  I looked into Cole’s eyes and suddenly realized I was. I was being just as bad as they were. Gay or not, Cole had shown me nothing but kindness.

  “Do you trust me?” he’d asked when I rode Mystic. When he’d told me that Mystic trusted me.

  Agree with what he’d decided to do with his life or not, he’d done nothing but been trustworthy.

  Fuck!

  I was so ignorant. I didn’t know anything. Why wasn’t I better educated? No, I hadn’t been in the “sex pool” in a very long time. But I had a daughter old enough to be having sex, after all. I should know about these things. And as uncomfortable as that idea made me, it was one I needed to deal with. And damn! How was that even possible? That she was eighteen? When did that happen? I somehow still felt her age.

  And also like I was at least a hundred years old. Two hundred. More…. Had Crystal been through some of what I had been through? It was possible. She probably knew more about condoms than I did. Was she a virgin? I hated this. I hated the way my thoughts seemed to be swinging in a hundred directions.

  I took a swig from the flask, knowing those lips had touched it before mine, and felt the burn. “Whiskey.” I handed it back.

  “Good Kentucky whiskey,” he said, then took a drink. He held it out.

  I took the flask and, once again, our fingers touched. He didn’t let go for a second, letting the contact linger. I didn’t pull away, and my heart began to race.

  He was flirting again.

  Dammit!

  Why me?

  He let go, and I took a long swallow this time. Too long. Shit. “I think I finished it,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “I got plenty back at my cabin,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Was that an invitation?

  Damn, he was so good-looking! Hell! How could a man be so damned good-looking? He was a man! Why was I seeing it? Weren’t there plenty of nice-looking women around here? But when I tried to think, nothing but the old lady that had been ogling Cole came to mind. And Charlize Theron she wasn’t. Why couldn’t I think of one single attractive woman? Out of thirty-some people, there had to be one. Besides Amy, that was. Amy was family. Amy was my “sister.”

  Again, we just stood there, and I felt the heat in my face as I went all flush.

  Go to bed! my mind screamed at me. Get out of here!

  But why couldn’t I move?

  “My flask?” he asked.

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling like an idiot. I handed it to him. “I need to be getting to bed. I’m worn out. It was a long drive, and all that food and the horse….”

  I paused.

  Remembered.

  I looked at Cole again, but this time I could think of something besides how attractive he was. I remembered the amazing afternoon astride that incredible animal. How free I’d felt. How spellbinding. “Thank you for that.”

  “For what?” Cole said.

  “Mystic. It was magical.”

  He smiled, and my stomach leapt again.

  Get out of here!

  “No problem,” he said. “There’ll be plenty more tomorrow. You rest up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Morning” was all I could say back.

  Then he turned—

  “Cole?”

  —and stopped.

  “Yes, Mr. Baxter?”

  I said it before I even knew I was going to. “I’m sorry. About what I said.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and walked off.

  I watched him go.

  And finally I climbed into my little cart and drove back to my cabin.

  I COULDN’T sleep. All I could think about was Cole. His eyes, his grin, the touch of his fingers when we passed the flask.

  Shit.

  A lifetime of control flying out the window in a single day. Not even a day.

  I like older men.

  My stomach was full of butterflies. Did he mean me?

  I haven’t been with a man in two years.

  Really? He hadn’t? Why? A man as nice-looking—hot! He’s hot!—as Cole could get any man—gay man—he wanted.

  Were his reasons anything like mine?

  No.

  Of course not.

  I looked at you and… I thought you were….

  He thought I was what? Homosexual? Of course he did. All he had to do was look at me and I acted like a twelve-year-old girl.

  I got up. Paced. This was crazy. I was never going to get to sleep. Damned coffee.

  It wasn’t the coffee, though.

  If only I had drunk more of his whiskey.

  That made me think of fingertips again. And the fact his lips had been on the flask….

  Shit! I was acting like a teenage girl! I was a man. A grown man!

  I went to the cabinet over the sink to see if there was a glass for water.

  There was a half bottle of whiskey. I took it out. Jim Beam Choice (green label)? Cole’s? Good Kentucky whiskey?

  Mine tonight.

  I screwed off the cap and took a long, hard drink, my throat working to swallow the wild, bitter taste. The whiskey exploded in my belly and intense heat spread through me.

  One or two more of these and I’ll sleep like a baby.

  I did.

  More or less.

  CHAPTER 6: Naked

  I WOKE up with a start, not knowing for a moment where I was. It was the birds that had awakened me. I could hear them chattering and singing, and I rose naked from the bed.

  Hmmm…. I usually wore boxers to bed, at least. How much did I drink last night? I didn’t feel hung over, so it mustn’t have been too much.

  The alarm clock read just after seven thirty, and I thought it was at least nine before we were scheduled to do anything. I had an hour and a half to kill.

  I found my jeans on the floor by the kitchen sink—how had they gotten there?—and my underwear in the bathroom. I put them both on and walked barefoot out onto the porch. Something buzzed by my face, and when I looked around, I saw two hummingbirds at a feeder, their throats glowing ruby red in the morning sunlight. The tiny creatures were hovering midair, and the sight took my breath away. I’d never seen hummingbirds so close before, and as a third one joined them, I could actually see it had a glistening green throat. I stepped closer, and they shot away, one seeming to scold me as it did so. I couldn’t help but laugh in delight.

  It was a stunning morning.

  Coffee. Sit on the porch and drink coffee, I thought. Did I have a coffeemaker in the cabin?

  My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horse, and soon I saw it wasn’t one, but two. Cole sat atop his horse, and he was leading Mystic.

  “You’re up,” he said. “Good morning!”

  I suddenly realized I wasn’t wearing a shirt and Cole was looking at me. Not rudely or anything, but looking all the same.

  Once again, Cole made me blush.

  “Morning,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest. I felt so exposed. But why? I had pants on. What was the big deal? I’d been around men when I wasn’t wearing a shirt all my life.

  But were they looking at you like that?

  “I come bearing coffee and bagels,” he said, holding up a Thermos and a brown paper bag.

  He brought me breakfast.

  “Let me get a shirt,” I said before I headed back inside.

  “Bring a mug,” he called after me.

  I pulled a shirt from the duffel bag I still hadn’t unpacked. The baggiest T-shirt I had. I found a coffee mug next to the sink and went back out. Cole was sitting in one of the rockers and pouring steaming coffee into the red lid of his Thermos. It smelled wonderful. He held it out as if to pour, and I offered my mug. I noticed it had a bear on it, of course.

  “Cream? Sweetener?”

  “No, thanks,” I said and sat down next to him.

  Cole was wearing tight jeans again, a pale blue cowboy shirt—the top few snaps were undone, and I could see his chest looked tota
lly smooth. Would he have a few stray hairs tucked between his pecs or surrounding his nipples? His black cowboy hat was perched slightly forward on his head.

  I looked away and saw he’d tied the horses to a railing set away from the porch. Mystic was pulling at some grass.

  I heard the bag crinkling and turned as Cole held it out for me.

  I peeked in to see a large bagel and some packets of cream cheese.

  “I toasted it for you, but I didn’t know if you’d want anything on it,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I replied, and after taking the bagel, I smeared it with a good two packets of the Philadelphia brand. “Something that wasn’t grown or made here,” I said, holding up an empty packet.

  Cole laughed. “Not the bagel either. Comes from a great little shop in town.”

  “How far is town?” I took a huge bite of the bagel. Delicious.

  “About twenty miles,” Cole said. “Not far.”

  “I wouldn’t want to walk it.” I stuck out a foot and flexed my toes.

  Cole pointed. “Hobbit feet!”

  “Huh?” I looked down at my foot.

  “Hairy on top,” Cole explained. “Like a hobbit.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know if it was a good thing or not, so I asked him.

  “I think it’s good,” he replied, and his cheeks turned pink.

  I followed suit and tucked my foot under the rocker—and felt naked once more. You’re only barefoot. Why the hell are you embarrassed?

  Because he likes my feet!

  That’s not exactly what he said.

  Time for a subject change.

  I took a careful drink of my coffee. Damn, it was terrific coffee. Had it been so good last night?

  “It’s fresh ground,” Cole explained, and I realized he meant the coffee. He must have seen the appreciation on my face.

  “Definitely not a commercial blend,” he continued. “And no, we don’t grow coffee here either.” He chuckled.

  “So why this?” I said, holding up the bagel and coffee.

  “Hmmm?” he asked.

  “Breakfast in… porch,” I answered, then fought a blush at the connotation.

  “Oh!” He rolled his eyes. “Your family’s up already and eating the continental breakfast, and they asked if we could go riding this morning. Monday is usually horse orientation, but they know horses front and back, and we already covered the reminders yesterday. So I said yes, and since I already had Madrigal saddled, I went ahead and got Mystic ready for you.”

  “Oh! I kept trying to remember to ask you your horse’s name.”

  Cole nodded. “I call her Maddy. Rode on down ’cause I wasn’t sure when you’d be up. I need to get you a radio.”

  “Okay,” I said. “When do I need to be up there this morning?”

  “Well, we are talking about three kids,” Cole answered. “So about an hour ago.”

  “An hour ago?” I jumped up.

  “Finish,” he said with a wave at my breakfast.

  I sat and took another monstrous bite.

  “We really do need to get you a hat,” Cole replied.

  I shook my head. “I never was much of a hat guy,” I said through a mouthful of bagel.

  “Well, you got a little sun yesterday.”

  “I did?” I touched my face and maybe felt a little heat there.

  “You need something,” Cole explained. “You’ll fry.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “At least a cap. Why don’t we check the gift shop when you’re done? They’re pretty reasonable.”

  I nodded, gobbled the last of my breakfast, and went inside for my boots. I peeked in the bathroom mirror while I was there, and sure enough, my cheeks were a rosy red. Not too bad, though. Knowing me it would tan out by the next morning, as long as it wasn’t made worse today. At least it’d cover my blushing.

  Then it was time to try to get on Mystic again. Would Cole help me?

  Turns out he didn’t need to. I did better the second time. And when Cole swung up onto his horse, I couldn’t help but notice how the muscles in his thighs and ass flexed in his skintight jeans.

  I looked away.

  Why? Look. What’s looking going to hurt?

  No! It was the first step on a slippery slope. Do not look!

  Of course this was only Monday. How did I not look for the whole next week?

  THE BASEBALL-STYLE caps weren’t bad. They came in several different colors, and, yes, they had a bear patch on the front. They were cheap, and Cole did insist I needed one. Amy appeared in the shop and nodded her agreement as she headed over to a turnstile filled with postcards.

  “You’re pink today,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll be a lobster by tonight.”

  “All right! All right!” I cried, hands raised in surrender.

  “I’ve got something later to help with that burn,” Cole said. “A cream we can put on you. The stuff is like magic.”

  “Sure,” I mumbled while I looked at two caps. Red or black?

  “Of course,” Cole said, “you’d look real good in one of these.” And before I knew what he was doing, he’d placed a cowboy hat on my head. “Whoa!”

  “Gosh,” Amy said. I turned and she was blinking at me, wide-eyed.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Grrrrrrrrrr…!”

  “Grrrr?” What was that supposed to mean?

  “Grrrrrrrr is right,” Cole said with a growl of his own.

  He placed those big square-tipped hands on my shoulders and turned me so I was looking into a full-length mirror. “Just look, Big Daddy.”

  I looked at my image in surprise. I looked pretty good. The hat—black, much like Cole’s—complemented my dark eyes and hair rather well. And here I imagined I’d look stupid in a cowboy hat. I saw the look in Cole’s eyes over my shoulder and felt my face heat up.

  That look! He was making me feel naked again.

  At least he wouldn’t see I was blushing through my sunburn.

  “You look great. Like a real cowboy. I mean it.”

  I laughed. Me? A “real” cowboy? I turned away from the mirror. “It’s probably pretty expensive.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Amy said. “Let’s make it an early birthday present, babe.” There was that word again, and it made me nervous.

  “No, no,” I said.

  “When’s your birthday?” Cole asked.

  “In about a month,” I said, glancing back at my reflection. The hat really did look good.

  “Well, happy early birthday, Daddy,” Cole said.

  I like older men. The memory of his words almost made me blush again. How much older? I wondered.

  “I’m buying it for you,” Amy insisted, and a few minutes later I stepped out into the sun in my cowboy attire.

  WE RODE quite a bit that day. First on a trail, where we explored much of the ranch. Then, after a hamburger and hot dog lunch, we actually learned to herd cattle. Darla and Vincent needed about two-hundred head moved from one end of the ranch to the other. It was a little scary at first, what with those horns. I’d never been around cows in real life, except at a state fair when I was a kid visiting my grandmother, and they’d been in pens. But Cole and the other wranglers certainly knew what they were doing—and they were doing most of the work—and soon had me a little more comfortable around the large animals.

  “Keep behind and off to the side,” Cole instructed. “Just sorta pressure them at their hips. You hardly need touch them. They’ll go, believe me.”

  Suddenly I was having fun “working” the ranch. I looked around me, surrounded by cattle and horses and riders, and felt a little thrill zip through me. It was like I was living some old classic Western movie. The riders were calling out, the sun was beating down, the dust was in the air. For a while, I let myself pretend I really was a cowboy, living a hundred years ago on a long cattle train.

  What must that have been like? I wondered. It could only have been something vaguely like this. They
had months on the trail with only the crudest tents for shelter against the elements. Storms, the heat, the cold, the filth. Beans for nearly every meal. I had huge dinners in a dining hall, a cabin to myself, a microwave, a shower, a hot tub—and oh, was that hot tub starting to call my name. My ass was hurting from the hours in the saddle, and as wonderful as Mystic was, I was getting tired.

  I found it a tremendous relief when we were finally done and heading back to the stables. How had the real cowboys in those long ago days stood it? It even hurt to climb down.

  I stretched, put my hands on my lower back, and felt it pop. I was going to sleep well tonight. Note to self: no coffee tonight.

  Unless Cole was around with his flask and could add some of his whiskey.

  “Anyone interested in some volleyball?” Cole called out as we put our tack away.

  “Hell no,” I moaned. “Count me out.”

  “What’s wrong, Big Daddy?” Cole asked and came up behind me. “You tired? I know a big man like you isn’t tired.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “And I’m going to jump in that hot tub and relax before dinner.”

  “Suit yourself,” Cole replied. “We’re gonna have fun!”

  “Have at it,” I said, heading for my golf cart. I’d been almost embarrassed by it at first, but now I was grateful for…. Then I remembered. The little electric cart was back at the cabin. Cole had brought Mystic by this morning, and I’d ridden her up, not the cart.

  Shit, I thought with a groan and made my way slowly back home.

  THE HOT tub was beyond wonderful. It didn’t take a lot to figure out how to get the jets going, and soon I was relaxing in the steaming, churning water. I couldn’t get over how quickly the massaging effect made my muscles feel so much better. Even though the roof stuck out over it to keep the weather off, if I sat at one end and lay back, I could look up into the robin’s-egg-blue sky. It was so pretty and peaceful. Above a lone bird—hawk? Eagle? I didn’t know—floated above me, riding the air currents. I let my body float to the water’s surface and imagined how it felt to be that bird. Anything like this?

  Free! No worries. No cares about what anyone else thought of it.