by BA Tortuga
He put it on the table, staring at it. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Grinning, he tugged out his phone, took a picture, then sent it to Curtis.
It only took seconds for him to get a Beautiful. Now come eat back.
Curtis was kinda obsessed with learning to actually cook. Stetson had seen him looking online at cooking classes in Santa Fe.
Weirdo.
He cleaned up his shit and put his tools away, then locked up. The snow was falling again, looking like fairies where the flakes caught the lights from the house.
Turning up his collar, he headed out, two of the dogs joining him, dancing around his legs and begging to play.
“Hey, y’all.” He bent down, scooped up a handful of snow as he walked, then threw it, the silly beasts tearing after it.
They barked and leaped and rolled each other in the white stuff all the way back to the porch, where Curtis met him. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. How goes it?” He made another snowball, threw it hard.
“Good. I like your rose.”
“It’s okay. I need practice.”
“Good thing you have a heated workshop.” Curtis winked. “I have to practice. I have to get out in the cold.”
Stetson snorted softly. “You’re working on getting those barns gone up so good that you’ll be in shirtsleeves in there.”
“Is it ridiculous to want an indoor practice arena?”
“I don’t see why?” He stomped his boots off. “We’ll save up and build one between the two big barns.”
“Sounds grand.” Curtis grabbed him once they were inside and two-stepped him through the mudroom.
Stetson laughed, blowing an icy cold kiss on Curtis’s throat.
“Oh! Damn, that’s freezing! I hate to think what your hands feel like.”
He feigned a grab at Curtis’s fly. “You want to know?”
“No!” Curtis danced away. “I made lasagna.”
“For real? That sounds good, man.” He loved anything that involved noodles and cheese.
“Yep. I had a wild hair. Real, not Stouffer’s.”
Hmm. Okay, what did Curtis want? Stetson grinned, ready to stretch it out a little, make Curtis sweat.
“You and your wild hairs.” First a practice arena, now lasagna—had the man bought a load of horses?
“I do get them.” Curtis wouldn’t quite look at him, and that sent a little ball of dread to his belly. “So, I got a call from a sponsor.”
“Yeah?” Was that bad? Back in the day, that was good.
“Well, you know how I said I would skip stock show season, maybe just do some events around Cowboy Christmas?” Curtis warmed to his topic, meeting Stetson’s gaze with his. “There’s an event in Dallas over Valentine’s weekend. Last man standing kinda thing. All bulls. The purse is a million for first, and Cinch wants me to headline.”
He’d known that this was coming. This was the nature of the breed, and there was no way Curtis was going to spend the rest of his time on the ranch. Stetson would take what all he could get. “Good deal.”
“Even if I just place, it’s good money. Fifty K for fourth. That’s our initial investment for the horse operation, and I could just let the rest of the year go.”
“Damn. That’s a good purse.” He wouldn’t make that all year, unless he lucked out and got a huge job on a house or a church.
“Yeah. We can do Dallas together, huh?” Curtis grabbed his hand, clearly excited now. “I need to work out some, but I got a few weeks.”
“Yeah? You want company?” That sounded even better. He hadn’t been anywhere in an eon.
“Of course I do.” Curtis squeezed his hand. “I told you, this is the long haul. No more running off without you.”
“Well, I like that.” He liked it a lot, to be honest.
“Cool. I’ll get Barb to arrange the tickets and hotel, then. They’re thinking it will be a big crowd.”
“Dallas folks do like their bulls.” And they’d be on fire, as short a distance as those bastards would have to travel. Curtis would have to be careful, because really the NFR bulls had nothing on some of the bulls who went to the pure bull riding events. Lord, his neck hurt.
He rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen the kink.
“You okay?” Curtis frowned slightly before turning him around to rub him good right where it hurt.
“Not used to carving so long any—there! Oh damn. Right there.” He wasn’t sure if it hurt like all get-out or felt so good. Goose bumps popped up on his arms, and he went up on tiptoes. “Damn.”
“You’ll get it back.” Curtis kissed his neck. “Get the garlic bread out of the oven?”
“Surely can.” He toddled over to the oven and pulled it out. “Let me go take my boots off and change my socks and I’ll be out.”
“You got it.” Curtis hummed, setting the table, sounding happy as a clam.
He liked that. He liked that Curtis wanted company. That he wanted to go. It felt damn good, and even better to say yes. Years ago he would have turned it down.
Years ago Curtis wouldn’t have asked.
He guessed they had both grown up a little.
He could live with that. Now, the cold feet in his boots? Not so much.
He stripped out of his cold, damp clothes, threw on his comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt and heavy socks. Better.
Now, about that lasagna. The whole house smelled like garlic and red sauce, and he was suddenly starving.
“God, I’m hungry.” He walked into the kitchen with the heavy table where it always had been, the casserole dish the one Momma used to make tamale pie in, and it made him grin.
“I figured you had to be working your ass off.”
“It wasn’t bad.” None of this was.
“Good. I like a happy Stetson.” Curtis smiled for him, those blue eyes on him, admiring him.
“You look pretty damn pleased with life yourself.”
“I am. I made lasagna, and it looks like Mom’s. I got you to agree to go on a job with me.”
“I like that you asked.” He liked it a lot.
“I’m so glad you said yes.” Curtis had dished up lasagna and salad, bread. It looked amazing.
“Thank you.”
“For what, Roper?”
“Supper. Having someone to come home to. Asking me to go.”
“I made the mistake once of letting us live separate lives.” Curtis flushed, ducking his head. “Not gonna do it again.”
“No. No, and I’ll never just let you fade away.” Never.
“Well, see? We’re figuring this shit out.”
They were. Day by day.
One supper after another.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CURTIS GRINNED when the dogs set up a ruckus, barking their fool heads off.
He wasn’t expecting Miles until after supper, but the man drove like a fiend, and he was showing off for his new traveling partner, Curtis would bet. Some kid from Texas, still wet behind the ears, if Curtis remembered right.
“You three hush,” he said, stepping out on the porch.
Miles honked and waved, grinning at him like a monkey. “Look at all this white shit, buddy!”
“Right? I mean, it snows where I’m from, but not like this.”
“You know it. I think Braden here is gonna freeze solid.”
“Hey, Braden! Y’all come in. I have a fire laid.”
The kid who appeared was what? Twelve? Christ. Curtis figured he was getting older every day, but at least he shaved. Braden was….
Since Braden was walking like the snow was cracking ice, he got to tease Miles. “You cradle robbing now?”
“Fuck you. I wasn’t robbing anything when he snuck into my bedroll.” Miles sighed. “He listens to Dustin Lynch.”
“Bless your horrorbilly heart.”
“I know. Save me, man. Hold me!” Miles threw himself on Curtis.
“What the—” He laughed out loud, bear-dancing Miles around.
>
“Hey now. Don’t you be dancing with my man.” Stetson’s voice was sure, steady, surprisingly loud.
“Stetson! How’s it going, bud!” Miles let him go so fast he staggered and moved to the door to pump Stetson’s hand.
“Curtis Traynor,” Curtis said when Braden mounted the stairs.
“Braden Matthews.” The kid looked like an unbroke horse.
“You okay?” Curtis asked softly. “Would you rather stay in a hotel, kid?” If Braden wasn’t cool with him and Stetson being together, he wasn’t about to let it happen.
“No. No, I just…. You know. You have to be so careful all the time. Miles told me y’all are family.”
“Not here you don’t.” He clapped Braden on the back. “Stetson and me, we’re together. We’re not fixin’ to start judging anyone.”
“Cool. Y’all been together a while? He’s a pretty man.”
Pretty? His Stetson?
He thought Stetson was stunning, but pretty he wasn’t. He looked like one of his carvings, hewn by the New Mexico landscape.
“A while, yeah.” He tried to see his lover through this kid’s eyes, but he didn’t get pretty. Breathtaking, sure. Fuckable, hell yes.
“Nice. Thanks, uh, for letting me come stay a few days. You don’t know me from Adam.”
Curtis snorted. “Get your ass inside before you freeze to death, kid.”
“Yeah. Christ, it’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
“I’ve acclimatized some.” Curtis did close the door behind them as quick as he could, though. His balls were trying to crawl up into his body.
Stetson was hanging coats, offering coffee, easy and dear, like it hadn’t been damn near a decade since he’d seen Miles.
Same with Miles. He was beaming, just talking a mile a minute. “We hit a heck of a storm up around Denver. Hoo, I thought we were gonna slide all the way down.”
“It’s supposed to dump on us for a couple of days, you know.” Stetson sounded wickedly amused.
“We’ll all have to huddle together for warmth,” Miles murmured.
Braden gaped.
Curtis cracked up.
“Uh-huh. You just want to feel up my cowboy. You’re not allowed.” Stetson put on a stern face.
“Y’all’re fixin’ to give Braden a stroke,” Curtis said. “You want coffee? Hot chocolate? Y’all got here in great time, so we can get anything you want for supper. Within reason. This is Taos.”
“Coffee, please. And don’t make my old ass get back in the truck.”
“You got it. I can make us quesadillas. I got all the stuff.” Curtis warmed right up to that idea.
“He’s becoming an amazing cook. Seriously.” Stetson was proud of him, he could tell.
“Curtis Traynor. Eating food. The king of the protein shake.” Miles winked, and Curtis rolled his eyes.
“Fuck off. I’ve lost weight.”
“You look healthy, man. Seriously. You look… solid.”
“Thanks.” Curtis had to grin at that. He felt amazing. Work, real hard work, was better than crunches any day. And he was having a ball. Working with the livestock, working on the barns and the house. Hell, being able to go in and see Stetson in his workshop, handsome face a study in concentration, was magic.
“Lovin’ life,” Curtis admitted. “Sit, huh? Tell me everything.”
“Well, ain’t much to say. You left and everyone else left. I went to Hawaii for that little Aloha event and Christmassed there, met Braden, and we came back to my place for New Year’s.”
“Well, welcome, Braden.” Curtis chuckled. “Miles doesn’t take everyone home.”
“No?” Oh, there was interest there. He wondered if they needed two beds or just the one….
“Nope. I’m picky,” Miles drawled.
Stetson snorted, but moved around to make coffee and cocoa.
Braden’s cheeks were bright pink, but Miles didn’t look the least bit worried. No, he looked pleased as punch. Good for him.
Curtis began pulling stuff out of the fridge. Grilled chicken he’d made yesterday. Flour tortillas. Cheese.
Stetson handed him the butter. Right. Always lube the pan. “Thanks, baby.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Stetson moved around him in a happy orbit, pulling out a can of refried beans and some boxed rice mix.
He grabbed one wrist, then reeled Stetson in for a kiss, refusing to let their company stop them.
Stetson made a happy sound, hugging on him for a moment. When they moved back to cooking, Miles was grinning at them like a fool, and Braden looked like he might explode.
“We’d better be nice, hmm?” Stetson whispered.
“I guess.” He bumped hips with his lover. “Although this is kinda fun, huh?”
“So mean.” Stetson’s laugh suited him to the bone.
“Okay, you two. Tell me your plans for the ranch,” Miles said, breaking in.
“Apparently Curtis is going to start running bucking horses.”
“No shit?”
“Not even a bit,” Curtis said. “Now, I’ll need a contractor to transport.”
Miles’s face broke into a slow, deep grin. “We talked on this some, you know?”
“We did. Stetson is more than willing to work with the mares and foals, but he’s only willing to travel so much.” Curtis smiled at his lover. “He has a woodworking business.”
“That’s so cool.” Braden perked up at that. “What do you make?”
“Vigas, framework, banisters—pretty much anything.”
“That’s really awesome. My brother is a finish carpenter, but he’s not much of a carver.”
“I mostly carve things. I like to keep it rustic.”
“Can I see your shop while I’m here?” God, had he ever been that young?
“Sure, man.” Stetson sounded easy in his skin, totally at home. God, it felt good. It felt damn good.
Curtis pulled out the iron skillet to heat, then started buttering tortillas.
“You two look domesticated as hell. It’s adorable. Who wears the apron?” Miles looked over at him with a shit-eating grin.
“He has a leather one for woodworking.” Let Miles ponder that for a moment.
“Ooh. Leather. Sex-ay.”
“Scared or desperate?” Stetson whispered.
“Scared.” Curtis nodded sagely. “I think him and the kid have hooked up. That’s, like, a commitment.”
“Yeah. I hear that. I’ll be nice.”
“Yep.”
“Will y’all stop talking about me like I’m not here? Where’s your bathroom, man?” Miles stood, hitching up his belt.
Stetson pointed down the hall to the rose bathroom. Oh, Miles was gonna love that.
“Sorry if we’re out of line,” Curtis told Braden. “We tease to live.”
“I’ve learned a lot of that from Miles.” Braden smiled a little. “Just not used to being obvious.”
“You’re not, man. We’re just open.”
Curtis nodded. “I’ve done the closet thing.”
“Right,” Braden said, “but what if you’d been out at Finals? Would you still have won?”
“I don’t know.” He was honest enough to admit that his scores might have suffered. “I did my time, though. I made a lot of mistakes. At some point, you have to know what’s more important. You’re young enough it might be the ride. You’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I guess.” Poor kid. Curtis remembered that. Hell, it wasn’t all that far away in memory.
“Anyway, what’s your event?” He was making small talk. Go him.
“I’m a bull rider. I don’t ride the broncs.”
“No? They’re more dangerous a lot of times. The bulls just require balance and strength.” Braden had the look of a bull rider. Relatively short, wide through the shoulders, narrow in the hips.
Him, he was damn near too tall to ride bulls, but he was born to buck a bronc. He’d taken to it like a duck to water.
“Your pan is ho
t,” Stetson said, the soft smile on his face telling Curtis that Stetson knew he was thinking about the game.
Stetson just didn’t know it was all nostalgia.
He’d loved the game, sure, but this? This being home? He couldn’t beat the feeling it gave him. It surprised him daily, but Curtis figured he would get used to it.
“Thanks, babe.” He got the quesadillas going. “You riding in Dallas?”
“No, sir. I’m just coming with Miles. He’s riding.”
“Yeah. He’s good at what he does.”
“Better than you.”
“Fuck off, man. I’m taking that purse. I need it.” Curtis pursed his lips at the pan. The cheese needed something. Did they have any pepper jack?
Stetson was digging in the fridge, a Ziploc baggie of pepper jack handed over. Brilliant man.
He sprinkled, and Stetson pulled out sour cream and salsa while Miles chattered at them and Braden maybe dozed a little. He grinned. That must have been a tense ride with all the ice.
Before long he had a nice pile of food, and they got all the pieces and parts to the table. Damn, those looked good.
“Man, those look amazing.”
“The rice smells damn good too.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “I think Braden might be a rice fiend. I tease that he must be from South Carolina.”
“Just East Texas,” Braden murmured.
“That’s damn near Louisiana.” Stetson handed Braden the rice bowl.
“We grow it there. I like rice.”
“Miles is just being a dick,” Curtis said. “Nothing new.”
Miles shrugged. “I’m just playing with the kid. That’s all.”
Curtis shot him a wink. “I know, buddy. Don’t forget we’re all new to him.” He handed Miles the green salsa, knowing he loved the stuff.
“Oh. I’ve missed New Mexico….” Miles poured the salsa liberally, eyes crossing.
“Lord, he’ll have dragon breath. Pass it on.” Braden held out a hand, and Miles slid it to him.
Okay, that was adorable. Truly. He shot Stetson a glance. Were they like that?
Stetson’s smile said it all. Yeah, they were just like that. Goofy and in love.