Cowboy: The Mathesons Book 2

by Declan Rhodes

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that at all. I wanted to ask about a good time for a video call so Tilda could meet Uncle Simon. Mason kind of shared the news about the two of you back together.”

  I laughed. “I should have known. Honestly, there are no secrets in the Matheson family.” I thought it sounded like a nearly perfect way to settle in for the night. “Sure thing. Give us five minutes to settle and then call back.”

  I sat on the sofa in the living room and waited for Simon. As he approached, he said, “You know, it’s getting late. I probably should go.”

  I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Can you stay for a few more minutes at least? There’s this call coming for both of us.”

  “Both of us? A call?”

  I patted the sofa cushion beside me. “Yeah, come and sit. It would look good if it were obvious that we like each other.”

  I saw the confusion on Simon’s face. He said, “We do like each other. You make it sound like we’re auditioning for some reality TV show, and if it is something like that, the answer is an emphatic no. I don’t need to bring a TV audience in the millions into my private life. No thank you.”

  I started to chuckle at Simon’s adamant attitude, and then the phone rang. When I answered it, Guy’s face appeared on the cellphone screen, and then Lily pushed in close beside him. Guy said, “We see your big face, but where’s Simon?”

  Simon heard the question and asked, “Is that Guy? Sheesh, it’s been a long time.” Simon pushed in close to my shoulder to see the screen.

  Lily said, “There he is! Oh, wow, you are still alive! The rumors were true. Mason said you were still kicking, but I needed to see you with my own eyes.”

  “Oh, man, it’s so good to see the two of you again. Hey, congrats on the wedding! I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I bet you were the most handsome bride and groom ever.”

  Guy said, “Hey, thanks, and we’ve got someone for you to meet. She was at the wedding, and she missed Uncle Simon, too.”

  Tilda’s round face appeared at the bottom of the screen with a pink bow on top of her head. Lily raised the baby’s arm and placed her delicate little fingers on the screen. “Tilda, meet your Uncle Simon.”

  “Well, not quite…”

  I gripped the back of his head with my big right hand. “Shh, you’ll always be Uncle Simon regardless of what happens in the future.”

  Simon leaned in closer to the screen. “She’s beautiful.” He echoed Tilda’s movement and placed a single finger on the lower part of the face of the phone. I had to reach up and wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. It was beautiful to watch.

  Simon asked, “How are all of you doing? I need to plan a trip out to southern California. Mason made me promise to show up sometime soon.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Lily. “You’re part of the family. We’re all doing great. I hope we don’t have to disown Tate for trying to keep you out.”

  We all laughed a little uneasily.

  The conversation continued for ten more minutes until Tilda started to get fussy. Guy said, “I think someone’s trying to tell us she’s had enough of the phone call, and it’s a little late out there. We wouldn’t want to interrupt…something.”

  Simon looked at me, and I looked back at him. I turned my attention to the screen. “It’s been great hearing from the two of you. Give each other an extra hug for us.”

  Guy said, “And you give a huge hug to Simon for all of us. We miss you.”

  Simon smiled. “Aw, that’s so sweet.” He blew a kiss in the direction of the phone just before they hung up on the other end.

  After the call, I said, “I’m sorry that my family monopolized the rest of our night, but you don’t need to go if you don’t want to.”

  “Well, first off, that was no problem at all. I love your family. They’re all great, and I’m not just saying that because Mason helped hire me. I envy big families. It was kind of lonely sometimes being an only child.”

  I wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist pulling him closer. “And the rest?”

  “I’d love to spend the night. Honestly, I would, but I don’t think I should—not yet.”

  Simon’s comment surprised me, and I fought back the urge to whine in response. “Do I at least get a kiss?”

  “Of course, you do.” Simon reached out for me, and then he tackled me on the couch.

  The back of my head landed against the padded armrest, and I stared up into Simon’s eyes. I didn’t want to look away. I wanted to touch his soul, and I knew that it was deep inside.

  He moved slightly scooting upward, and I felt his hard cock pressing into my belly through his jeans. My breath caught in my throat before we kissed.

  While our tongues did their own dance together, he swept one hand up the back of my head into my hair while the other kneaded my muscular chest through the baseball jersey. I was rock hard, too, and I was confident he could feel me.

  When we pulled apart from the kiss, Simon whispered, “Damn, Tate. Please tell me this is all for real. It’s so good.”

  “Absolutely one hundred percent for real. And I need another kiss before you go.”

  Simon touched my lower lip with an index finger before leaning forward and nibbling on it with his teeth. The sensation was almost ticklish, and I couldn’t handle it. I parted my lips and kissed hard. I wanted to kiss for hours until our lips were swollen, and we were both exhausted by the passion. I had to settle for about ten more minutes.

  Simon asked, “How about brunch in the morning? 10:00 a.m.? I think I’ll be missing you horribly by then.”

  “I miss you, and you haven’t even walked out the door yet.”

  Simon laughed softly. “That’s impossible, but it’s cute that you’re thinking that way.”

  “And thank you for the jersey.”

  “Do you know how incredibly sexy you are in that Yankees jersey? I’d probably faint if you had a pair of baseball pants to complete the uniform.”

  “We can go to the bedroom, and you can show me how sexy you think it is.”

  Simon shook his head. “No, I promised myself, and I’ll promise you. It won’t be much longer, but trust me. Please, Tate, trust me.”

  16

  Simon

  Mom Missy’s office was an example of traditional academia. She had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and only one small window to the outside world. Her office door had a peephole to investigate unexpected visitors, but otherwise, the office was both her retreat from the rest of the world and a private space to welcome guests.

  As she looked at me, she said, “I know there’s not a lot you can do with this, but I thought some updating might be a good idea. Take a look around and tell me what you think.”

  The shelves contained not only books but also held a variety of small framed images of various works of art through the centuries. I said, “Coming up with suggestions will be a little difficult. I’ve loved your office since I was about this high.” I held a hand out at the same level as my knee.

  “Well, I’m not thinking about a total makeover. I only want a few suggestions. I think it’s all starting to look a little tired.” She pointed at two frames on the shelves. “Those are originals while most of these are prints. I bought them at the student art show last year. Maybe I should change out all of the art.”

  I shook my head. “Isn’t part of the point of them to show that as an art historian you have an appreciation for the full sweep of history? I like the variety.”

  She reached up and pushed her long, dark hair lightly frosted with gray over one shoulder. “I never thought about it that way, Simon. Seriously, I didn’t. These are some of my favorite pieces. That’s why I chose them. I like to keep the things I love close to me. The different periods represented are purely accidental.”

  I turned and looked at her furniture. The lightbulb in my head switched on. “I do have a suggestion.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Your desk and the chairs here. They’re a nondesc
ript academic office style which essentially means no style at all. That dark wood desk looks like a castoff from a headmaster’s office, and the chair—did it come from the local office supply store?”

  She grinned. “Maybe. It’s what the university supplied. I didn’t have a lot of choices other than requesting an ergonomic chair. It’s comfortable, but I see what you mean. There’s nothing special about it.”

  “What if we reworked the furniture in a particular style? It will cost some money, but I don’t think that’s a problem. We could do it arts and crafts-ish, or mid-century, or even futuristic if you prefer that.”

  Mom Missy stepped up close to me. “Please don’t tell Tina we’re doing this. I didn’t mention that you were stopping by. If she knew you had that idea, she’d want me to do a new style every month. I’d have to live through thirty days with something Louis XIV. I don’t think I could handle that.”

  I tried to avoid laughing, but I couldn’t stop myself. I knew what she meant. It made me think about Mom Tina’s redecorating binges in my bedroom. “I won’t say a word.”

  “And I think your idea is great. I love mid-century as you know, and when Tina sees it, if she asks, it was a university decision. They decided to reward senior faculty. I didn’t have a choice.”

  I said, “I’ll come up with some catalogs that we can explore together.”

  Mom Missy held up a finger and a thumb. “I did have one other teensy weensy reason for inviting you here. Are we finished with the decorating suggestions?”

  I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Teensy weensy? Are you sure about that? Are you sure it’s not the main reason I’m here.”

  Mom Missy pointed at the chair reserved for students. “Have a seat.”

  I was suddenly worried about the reason. Reminding myself that my moms rarely spoke to me individually about anything of consequence, a wave of concern for Mom Tina swept over me. I collapsed into the chair and said, “Please don’t tell me Mom Tina’s sick.”

  “Oh, my God, no. Don’t worry. I probably started into this all wrong. It’s about you, not her. She knows that we’re talking.”

  “Me?” Then I knew what it was. I’d kept Tate secret, but they knew I was going out with someone. They wanted to know more.

  Mom Missy said, “You know that we don’t keep secrets in our little family. I’m always proud of that.”

  I jumped ahead of her questions. “It’s not a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

  She held up a hand to stop me. “I didn’t ask you anything yet, but I guess you figured it out. You told us that there is someone special, but you’ve been tight-lipped about it, Simon, and that concerns us. We hope everything’s okay, and I guess we both want a little reassurance. We don’t understand why you wouldn’t talk about it if it’s all a positive thing in your life.”

  I was stuck. I didn’t have a logical reason for keeping it all secret. I knew they would be happy that I was back together with Tate. They liked him when they met him, but I didn’t want their opinions to sway me until I was sure. I moaned, “Damn, I guess I’m already sure.”

  Mom Missy’s eyes opened wide.

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “You did. Should I hug you and offer congratulations?”

  “No, wait up. Hear me out. I guess I have to tell everything now. Do you remember Tate Matheson?”

  “Of course. He’s the big man you lived with. He was always delightfully charming even when his massive hugs sometimes made it hard to breathe. Tate brought flowers on our anniversary. Tina even forgets about that sometimes, but he never did.”

  I’d forgotten how loving Tate was toward my parents. The time I asked him about it came back to mind. He said that he grew up treating his parents the same way. I remember him saying, “If you’re fortunate enough to have great parents, you should honor them. My mom nearly drowns in flowers on her anniversary and Mother’s Day.”

  “Drowns?”

  Tate said, “She has six kids. When you add it all up; that’s a lot of flowers.”

  I turned my attention back to the present. Laying it all on the table for Mom Missy, I said, “I’m dating Tate again.”

  “But you sound a little tentative. Is there something wrong?”

  I felt it already. We were right on the edge of sliding into one of Mom Missy’s famous therapy sessions disguised as light conversation. Sometimes I wondered if she chose the wrong profession. She could have been a successful counselor.

  I shook my head. “Nothing is wrong this time around, but the last time when it fell apart, it hurt so much. I feel like I walk around waiting for another shoe to drop. I’m not sure that’s fair to either one of us if I can’t get past it. I don’t want to drag him through all of my anxiety.”

  “Sometimes you need to leap just like diving into the deep end of the pool. If you are in love, you can carry each other through the rapids.”

  “And what if we drown? We almost did take that leap. We’d even talked about possibly getting married, and then the fights were all too much. We constantly tore each other down in the process of defending our ground.”

  Mom Missy said, “I don’t think there’s too much danger of actual drowning. Make sure the plug’s open in the bathtub drain.” She smiled and laughed softly. “Whatever happens, you’ll survive. I think it’s worth looking at the fact that you were apart for a long time, but you both still want something to work. That’s a sign worth noting.”

  “Maybe it’s an unhealthy addiction.”

  She reached across the desk for my hands. Hers were warm when her fingers laced together with mine. “How’ve the dates felt this time around? Tell me more.”

  “Wonderful. When I’m with Tate, I forget about all the rest of my worries. They don’t matter. He’s the only thing on my mind. It’s like the rest of the world goes away, but then after I say goodbye, I worry about whether I’m setting myself up for a huge painful failure again.”

  She squeezed my hands. “Do you trust Tate?”

  “I think I do. It’s me that I don’t trust.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I trust that he wants it all to work, and I trust that he’ll do his best. Unfortunately, I don’t know if I trust myself to recognize when it really isn’t working. When it’s not right for both of us.”

  Mom Missy sighed audibly. “You don’t get to decide that all by yourself.”

  I looked into her eyes. I wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. The inability to communicate left a tender spot in my gut, but I thought there was something to her point about not deciding all by myself.

  Mom Missy rescued me from having to say something. “Simon, no relationship is perfect. If you’re looking for perfection, you’re always going to be disappointed. My relationship with Tina isn’t perfect either. We have to work at it. Sometimes it’s hard.”

  My mouth dropped open. Running my immediate thought on rewind in my head, I knew how ridiculous it would sound if I ever said it out loud, but I couldn’t imagine there were any real problems in the relationship between my two moms. They were perfect for each other. They looked at each other with love in their eyes every single morning. The words, “What do you mean?” slipped out.

  “I’m not going to get into specifics. If you really want to know, maybe sometime you can talk to both of us together, and we’ll decide what we want to share and what we need to keep private. I can say that Tina is as strong-willed as me even though she often follows my lead. We’re both stubborn, and that can cause conflict. Fortunately, we have a lot of practice at working things out.”

  “Do you have any special hints about how to do that?”

  “Well, the one that I have to keep in mind most often is if you are going to argue, then you have to fight fair. You have to stick to what’s relevant to the discussion. It’s not fair to bring up something that bugs you which is completely unrelated to the current issue.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Like bitching at Tate a
bout wearing the wrong jersey to a baseball game months after it happened because I was mad at him for working late too much?”

  Mom Missy laughed softly. “That’s a perfect example.”

  I whispered, “I never thought that my two moms didn’t get along. You hide that well.”

  “We don’t hide it. At least we don’t do that on purpose. You just don’t notice it. Long ago, when you were a young boy, we made a joint decision. We don’t let anything sit around and fester. If we disagree on something, we discuss it so that we settle all arguments by the time we go to bed at night.”

  “You argue in bed?”

  “Before bed. It’s rarely a disagreement that lasts very long, and we don’t disrupt the rest of the day because we both know we’ll have our chance that night. I guess that might be why you think we never have conflict. Most of it is in the bedroom, and then we often have fun after.”

  I thought about the ability to go to bed night after night with Tate having all of our differences of opinion settled. We never made that our policy when we lived together. I remembered so many times in the past when I had a hard time falling asleep because I was hanging on to some unspoken frustration. Then I thought about Tate’s strong, muscular arms wrapped around my body, and the way he looked as the shirt fell off his shoulders.

  “Are you still there, Simon?”

  “Yeah, I’m only thinking about what life will be like with Tate when we learn to be a little bit more like my two moms.”

  17

  Tate

  While Mason was in town, I stopped going out to Sagebrush in the evening. It wasn’t a conscious decision. The rest of life crept back in to take its place. It was a pleasant surprise when Ted called me out of the blue. “Hey, buddy, you didn’t drop off the face of the earth, did you?”

  “I’m talking to you, so I think that answers your question.”

  He chuckled on his end of the phone. “You’ve got a point there. Hey, what’s your evening like tonight? Are you busy?”