by BA Tortuga
“That’s in Santa Fe.”
“We can go down, have lunch, come home, and never go near the hospital.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’d love to go to the Plaza and see who’s at the governor’s palace.” Stetson knew every Native American artist from the Four Corners to Oklahoma. Seriously. He loved that, that Stetson believed in the art. Who would believe that about his stern cowboy lover?
Curtis hoped to hell Stetson got back to his wood carving soon. He needed his hands on the wood, making it into what it wanted to be.
“I got the griddle heated up. You want bacon or anything?”
“I was thinking that chicken and sage breakfast sausage, but I’m easy.” He stirred the buttermilk into the mix.
“In the freezer?”
“Yep. We can eat a whole box.”
“A whole box, huh?” Stetson started rummaging.
“Yep. I love that shit.” He’d had bacon for breakfast, and God knew what was in that taco at lunch….
Whatever it was, it had tasted like spicy heaven.
Together they put together a great breakfast for dinner. Buttery, rich, sweet—Curtis felt like he was going to have a foodgasm.
He patted his belly. “That’s probably more than I’ve eaten in one day in three years or more.”
“Me too. It was so good. I love pancakes.”
“God, yes.” He would cheat on his diet for IHOP on the road. “What’s on the agenda tonight, baby? Just resting?”
It had been a long day.
“Sit, rest, watch the snow fall. It’s nice in here tonight, warm.”
“It is.” Jesus, how long had it been since Stetson ran the heat? “All that cooking.”
“Uh-huh. It smells good and everything. Maple syrup candles should be a thing.”
“It totally should.” Maybe it was. His mom loved that candle place in the mall. She bought them in sugar cookie and pumpkin pie smell.
“Thank you for being here, cowboy. I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I was. You have an amazing group of neighbors.” The stories, the faces…. They’d all fascinated him. He did love a good bullshit session.
Curtis finished drying the last dish. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
“Sounds good.”
There were heavy blankets piled on the sofa, just perfect to snuggle under. Curtis slid deep in the couch cushions and tugged Stetson down before covering them up. Lord, that was nice. Warm, but also cuddly.
“Hey.” Stetson rested against him. “We’re gonna be snowed in, if we’re lucky.”
“Well, we got groceries and wood and feed.” And a Christmas tree that was still in the bag. Tomorrow he would get out the little wreath and some of the goodies.
“What else do we need?”
“Each other.” He was convinced that could cure any ill.
“Romantic.” Stetson kissed his jaw.
“I’m a cowboy. We’re all hearts and roses.” He winked, wrapping an arm around Stetson’s shoulders.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You better, baby. I’m also into sex.” He wanted to make Stetson laugh out loud.
“Hearts, roses, fucking.” The soft chuckles started. “Anything else?”
“Mmm. Bacon. But sparingly. And you know my secret obsessive food.”
“Sopapillas. With extra honey,” Stetson said immediately.
“Uhn.” He wasn’t even hungry and he would eat those.
“See? I know all.”
“You do.” He leaned over to take a long, slow kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather be snowed in with, Roper.”
Stetson reached up to touch his cheek. “Ditto, cowboy. It’s really coming down. I think it will happen.”
“I can’t wait to see it in the morning.” Curtis grinned. “Though I have some thoughts about the kind of snuggling we can do in bed tonight.”
“Perv.” From the light in Stetson’s eyes, though?
His cowboy knew exactly what he was thinking.
Chapter Nineteen
STETSON WAS hiding.
Like a giant yellow-bellied coward in the back bathroom with the door shut.
They’d done the funeral; they’d sprinkled Momma’s ashes over a piece of ground that they’d cleared of the snow. The deal was done.
Now he needed everyone to leave him the fuck alone.
Too bad there were all these freaking people. As many as there had been the day everyone had decided to finally come see him. More. People he didn’t like as well as Tom and all….
Lord help him, he needed a little breather. Maybe a lot of breathers in a row.
There was a part of him—a mean, bitter part of him—that pointed out that none of these folks were here when Momma was here. Not even Curtis.
Hell, Curtis would still be happily wandering around if Stetson hadn’t called.
That was so not fair. Curtis had come right off the bat when he called. And stayed to help a goodly bit.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Roper? You okay?” Speaking of Curtis….
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right out.” He washed his face and smoothed his black shirt. He’d had to dig it out of the closet, and it didn’t fit so well anymore.
“No worries. I was just checking. Hang out in the bedroom if you want. The only folks left are Tom and the Martinez peeps, though, if you want to say bye.”
Now, how had Curtis accomplished that?
“Okay. I’ll be right there.” Tom. The Martinezes. He could do this.
He walked out, glad as hell that he didn’t have to paste on a smile.
“Hey.” Tom gave him a half hug. Very manly. “I know I need to get out of your hair. You need anything, you call. Jake and I already did your feeding.”
“Y’all rock. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Jake Martinez pumped his hand. “Belinda left you more tortillas and some horno bread.”
“I’m gonna get fat.”
“You could use a couple pounds.” Tom grinned. “Come on, Jake. I’ll buy you a beer.”
“Nah, you’ll buy me a margarita. On the rocks.” Jake chuckled, following Tom out the door.
The quiet that descended was a balm to his frazzled nerves.
He stood there, just feeling like a shattered window that was holding in the frame. One touch and he’d just turn to shards.
Curtis stood a few feet away, looking at him. Kinda cautious, and how could Stetson blame him?
He didn’t know what to say. My momma’s dead? I just poured the remainder of her onto the ground, and she’s gone, for sure? I’m tired, and I’m scared because now I’m supposed to just go back to real life again, but I’m not sure I remember how?
“Did you see Jake brought you some twisted cedar? He thought you might be able to use it to carve some.”
“Did he? I haven’t done that in a long time.” He looked at his hands, wondering if he even knew how to carve. “I think I have to get the fuck out of here.”
He stopped, tilted his head. He hadn’t intended to say that.
“Okay. You want me to come with?” Curtis wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he had that knowing look about him.
“Please. I just want to go away.” Anywhere. Everywhere.
“You got it.” Curtis moved around, gathering coats and keys. “We fed the dogs a bit ago, so we’re good. Come on.”
He let Curtis lead him out the door and into the truck, let him drive out the long, icy ranch lane and into the early darkness.
Stetson had no idea where Curtis might take him. He didn’t care. He just had to go.
They got on Highway 64 and started driving, Curtis singing with Luke Bryan on the radio.
He leaned his head back, his brain rattling a little in his head. Lord, he was tired.
The car kept going, and for a second Stetson thought they were going to stop at Angel Fire, but they kept going on. He wondered if he should text Tom and ask him to feed again in the morning….
Hell, h
e could get someone to come in. The dogs had plenty of shelter. He would just trust Curtis.
Right now, he needed someone to take care of him a minute.
“You need anything, Roper? Cup of coffee or a candy bar?”
He took a deep breath, trying to see if there was room inside him for food yet, and he found out there was. “I could handle a drink, yeah.”
“Cool.” Curtis pulled off at the next gas market dealie. “You want to sit?”
“No. I want to come with.” He wanted to see something different, even if it was the same.
“Good deal.” Curtis shot him a relieved smile. “Man, this place looks quiet, huh? If we held hands, the clerk might have a heart attack.”
“They might. Although, this is ski country. They might not care.”
“True enough.” Curtis took his arm, which he thought was a nice compromise.
They bought stupid shit—Funyuns and Dr Pepper, Sixlets and a cappuccino from a machine. They pondered the many flavors on chicharrones before deciding that was too much like Funyuns and going for the hot fries and Corn Nuts instead.
“Why do I suddenly want a Slushie? It’s like eight degrees out there,” Curtis said.
“It’s instinct. You come in a place like this and see the machine, and eight-year-old Curtis says, ‘Gimme.’”
“Right? I used to con Ally, the lady who worked at the Go-Fer, to let me mix Coke and cherry.”
“I like the Coke best. Always have.”
“Purist,” Curtis accused, and Stetson couldn’t argue the point when it came right down to it. “I need a Big Cherry too.” Curtis swerved off to the candy aisle.
“I like the peppermint ones.”
“Peppermint Pattie it is.” Curtis grabbed Slim Jims, and by the time they got to the register, they had a feast of junk.
“Y’all heading to Colorado for your green?” The guy behind the counter looked like he knew all about that.
Curtis cackled like a big bird. “I wish. Nah. Just an impromptu road trip.”
“Road trips are cool, man. Seriously. We all need more of them.”
“You know it. What’s the best thing to see around here?”
“Angel Fire is cool, but there’s a wicked haunted hotel in Cimarron.”
“No shit?” Stetson blinked. He’d never heard that.
“Well, it’s just a cool hotel too, but that’s the rumor. It’s like Old Westy.”
“I think I saw that on Haunted Collector.” Curtis grinned when they both raised their eyebrows at him. “I’m on the road a lot. I watch marathons.”
“Dude, that’s cool. You should check it out. See if you have an experience.”
“Totally.” Curtis paid for their shit, and they were outside again, laughing breathlessly.
They tumbled into the truck, sharing a piece of chocolate and a kiss.
“Mmm.” Curtis touched his cheek right above the corner of his mouth. “Chocolate.”
He reached up, wiped it clean. “Did I get it?”
“Yeah. Rats.” Curtis winked before settling behind the wheel. “Cimarron, then?”
“Let’s go. I haven’t had an adventure since….” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” Curtis got the wheels moving again, back on the state highway.
“I’m not boring. I just had a lot of work to do.”
“Baby, I’m not judging. I’m just saying we need to get you out and doing now that you can. Easing you into things, well, you know that’s not my style.” Curtis glanced at him, clearly checking in.
“No. No, it’s not.” It was one of the things he’d fallen in love with. Curtis was take charge, full speed ahead. So full of life it hurt.
He was… steady, he guessed. Strong, for sure.
“Anyway, you got good friends who will help if we have a wander.” Curtis jerked his chin at the bags of food. “Slim Jim, please?”
“Absolutely.” He unwrapped one and handed it over. “Lord, nothing smells like those.”
“Yeah. Kinda like a three-day bull rope.” Curtis wrinkled his nose. “They’re addictive, though.”
“No carbs. Portable. Smell like ass. The perfect gay cowboy food.”
Curtis burst out laughing, slapping the steering wheel with one hand. “Fuck, yes. I love that, you know?”
“What’s that, cowboy?”
“How you’re funny. I fucking love that.”
Stetson snorted. “I’m a giant dork, but I’m glad you like it.” He touched Curtis’s leg, just resting his fingers there. Connecting.
“I do. I want to take you a thousand places, you know that?”
“Like where?” He wanted to listen, to hear Curtis talk about his travels. Rest his head.
“We should go to Galveston, to Disneyland. To Hawaii. You know how much fun we’ll have in Hawaii?”
“Hawaii?” He’d never even dreamed that far. “I would love Disneyland.” He had this desperate need to ride Pirates of the Caribbean. He blamed Jurassic Park, which he watched every time he saw it on.
“Which one?”
“Are they different?”
“Well, one is Disney World, I reckon, and it’s in Florida.”
“Oh, California is far enough.” He’d never been east of Texas.
“We could do LA while we’re there. Pretend we’re famous.”
Stetson chuckled. His cowboy was as close to famous as he needed to be. “You know where I hear is real pretty? Reno. Lake Tahoe.”
“It is. We can go there too. We can plan things, if you want.”
What did that mean? Did it mean plan to visit while Curtis was on the road? He had no idea, and he wasn’t going to ask. Right now he lived on the fantasy that Curtis was going to hang around past stock show season.
“Sure. I want. I—” He was fucking overwhelmed, is what he was. He grabbed his coffee and drank deep.
“What do you want, Roper?” Curtis asked the question gently, but not hesitantly at all.
“To plan things with you.”
Planning didn’t cost a dime.
“Good.” Curtis covered his hand for a moment, squeezing. “I just got you back, and I’m not ready to let go.”
“Would… would you ever have called me, do you think?”
“I don’t know, Roper.” Curtis sighed, the sound a little sad. “Truth be told, I was ashamed of the way I slunk off. I was afraid if I called you’d tell me to fuck right off, so I told myself it was better to let you move on.”
“You ought to have known I wasn’t going anywhere.” That had been the whole thing.
“I—I never have been real bright.” A soft chuckle sounded. “I’m learning shit all the time.”
“Momma would tell you that meant you were still alive.”
“I guess so. Some lessons come hard.”
“There’s the exit. Cimarron.”
“That didn’t take long.” Curtis guided the truck off the exit. “So, we’ll get us a room, maybe have supper. Then we might have to wander around and look for ghosts.”
“I appreciate this. I know you don’t have to humor me.”
“What? I get to take you out and show you off. You got no idea how ready I am to do that.”
“Doesn’t look like there’s much to Cimarron to show me to.” The main drag was mostly shut down.
“Lots of galleries and such for tomorrow. You might make a contact or two.”
“A contact? What for?”
“Your carving. I know you. You’ll get the itch to start again.”
“You think so?” He sure as shit hoped so.
“I do. It’s tough to make art when you’re hurting, Roper. You have to get back to yourself first, but I know you.”
Curtis kept saying that. Over and over. Stetson wasn’t sure he was the guy Curtis thought he knew. They’d see.
They pulled in by the hotel, which looked twinkly and festive in the snow.
“Oh, now that’s fine.” He could imagine it a hun
dred and fifty years ago, serving settlers, folks heading to California.
“It is. I was a little worried rolling into town, honestly.”
“I guess it’s a little like a hidden gem deal.”
“I’m in. Let’s see what they got in rooms.” Curtis hopped out, whooping a little. “Cold!”
“Listen to you! Ain’t you from Texas? I hear Texans spend all their time in Colorado.” He was putting on a face, though, because it was bitter.
“Yeah. I stay in Glenwood Springs when I’m there. Forty-five hundred feet, tops.” Curtis trotted to the door, opened it for him.
“Thank you, sir.” He tipped his hat, feeling daring as all get-out.
“You’re most welcome.” It was Curtis who got him back fast, pinching his butt when he passed.
His steps hiccupped a bit, but that was it. He was smooth. Suave. Debonair.
“Evening, gents.” The lady who ducked out into the lobby smiled for them, looking a bit harried. “What can I do you for?”
“I don’t suppose you have any rooms?”
She shook her head. “I just got the one, and it’s a king. I’m sorry, fellas.”
Curtis’s cheeks went pink, but he cleared his throat. “Is it gonna get us kicked out if I say that’s what we would have asked for?”
One eyebrow lifted, and Stetson considered getting his back up, but the smile she gave them was warm. “None of mine, boys. If the ghosts protest, I’m not to blame.”
“No, ma’am. We’ll take our chances.” Curtis gave her that gold-buckle-winner smile.
“Good deal. Restaurant’s open for supper. Y’all are welcome.”
Curtis handed her a credit card, signed the papers, and they were heading upstairs, the steps creaking under their boots.
“You feel like we ought to whisper?” Curtis asked.
“I know, right? It’s like… I don’t know. Like folks are hearing you.”
“Or maybe you’re waiting to hear them.” Curtis unlocked their room, and darn, it was pretty.
“Is it wrong of us? To come and stay after just an hour’s drive?”
“Nope. This is a getaway. Just a night or so. Nothing wrong with it at all.” As soon as the door closed, Curtis reeled Stetson in for a kiss.
It was so easy to let himself pretend that they were in the Wild West, together in this room that smelled of wood and old dust. No bags or TV or clock radios. Just them in their hats and boots.