Stable Hill

by Jodi Payne

  Wow. Russ seemed anxious. All right. It was disappointing—and frustrating as hell—but he understood. He’d play it cool. He dropped his bag on the couch and pulled out his camera, then handed Russ a notepad and a pen. “I’m going to move some things around and take a bunch of shots. Would you take some notes for me? This will go faster that way.”

  “Okay.” Russ’s tone was uncertain, but he took the paper.

  The house could use a fresh coat of paint, but it was immaculate. Everything had a place and was in it. Room after room, the house hardly looked like anyone lived there. He moved a few things around, taking personal items and family photos out of the shots, adding throw pillows or blankets from other rooms sometimes, but mostly it looked like he wanted it to. It was a family farmhouse.

  “Where do you stay, Russ?” Jesus. He couldn’t call the man he’d just been hoping to fuck Mr. White. “Do you not live in the house?”

  Russ looked at him. “I do. I have a room upstairs.”

  “Well, you’d never know it, looking at the rooms downstairs.”

  “It’s not my house.”

  He looked over at Russ. “Seriously?”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. That was a nice TV in the living room. He’d sure use it if he were living here. He followed Russ up the stairs and into the first bedroom. It was delicate and sweet, with lace curtains and a pretty quilt on the bed. “Wow.”

  “This was Oscar’s mom’s room.”

  “She had her own room?”

  “Oscar said she used it like a dressing room, and then she’d nap in here sometimes.”

  “How sweet.” He took a few pictures, but this room wasn’t going to sell the house. He knew it wasn’t a palace, but he was hoping the master was a little bigger. There were a handful of bedrooms up here, and he shot those too. Oscar must have a big family.

  “Over here is the room I use,” Russ said finally. “It was Oscar’s.”

  Russ didn’t go in. He leaned against the wall in the hallway and waited, letting Jeffrey check it out alone.

  He kept his comments to himself, but he couldn’t believe how Russ was living. Along one wall, there was a twin bed with a dark comforter and a couple of pillows. A tall dresser with almost nothing on it sat in one corner. A guitar leaned against the wall in one corner next to a black boom box with big speakers and a tall rack full of CDs. The guy lived like a kid who should have left home five years ago. A grown man in a boy’s bedroom.

  “You play guitar?” he asked, taking pictures.

  Russ shrugged. “A little.”

  The guitar looked like it belonged to someone who played it more than a little, but he didn’t push. “That’s cool.” He finished up in Russ’s room and stepped back into the hall. “The master?”

  “Yeah, next door.” Russ led him into a large, almost entirely empty room. There was a dresser at one end, an old rug, and a pair of nightstands that had been pushed together against one wall.

  “There’s no bed.”

  Russ nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Toward the end, when Jonas was too weak to get out of bed, Oscar tried to keep him here with a full-time nurse. He rented a hospital bed and had it moved in here, and had me get rid of his parents’ double bed.”

  “Jonas was Oscar’s father?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “And staying here didn’t work out, huh?”

  Russ shook his head no. “Not for long. Oscar got great help and really tried, he did. But eventually Jonas got… hard to handle. Combative and… it just wasn’t possible. Oscar had to move him to rehab.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “We lost him about six months ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Russ nodded. “Thanks.”

  “So, I guess you were close?” The question was out of his mouth before he realized that it was kind of personal and probably none of his business.

  “Yeah, actually.” Russ squinted out the window. “Seems weird, I guess. I just worked here and all. But he was a friend. He was good to me.”

  Jeffrey had to wonder if Russ had said any of that out loud before. It didn’t seem like it, the way his voice sounded rough and his breathing measured.

  To be honest, he was having a hard time recognizing the man he’d hooked up with a handful of times for a blow job or a quick fuck in the back of a pickup truck. That guy in the bar didn’t have much to say about anything, and when he did speak, it was either to ask the bartender for another beer or to comment about whatever game was on TV.

  But this guy… this guy obviously cared about things—horses, the farm, music, Oscar’s father.

  He put his camera down on the dresser and moved close to Russ’s back, breathing in stable and sunshine. “Hey.”

  Russ shook that mess of blond hair. “Don’t.”

  He had to. He reached out and rested a hand on Russ’s shoulder. “Russ.”

  “Don’t, please.” Russ stiffened and turned to look at him. “Do you have all the shots you need?”

  He held Russ’s eyes for a long moment, hoping to find the right move. Finally, he just nodded. “Yeah.” He turned around and picked up his camera. “Yeah, I need to talk with Oscar about some staging. We need to get a bed in here, maybe a new rug.”

  Russ walked past him, and he followed the man down the stairs.

  “Did you need pictures of the barn too?”

  “I will, but not today. We’ll probably need a couple of your people for that one, so we can move equipment and horses around. I’d like to do that late this week or early next. Maybe you could let me—or uh, let Oscar know what works for you, and we’ll set something up?”

  “I’ll do that.” Russ waited without another word while Jeffrey packed up his camera bag, but he had plenty to say after he saw Jeffrey through the front door. “Listen. I didn’t tell Oscar we knew each other, and I’d prefer you didn’t either. I’d rather not have to explain, you know?”

  That he got. “Sure, Russ.”

  “And I’d like it if you kept what I said about Jonas to yourself too, as I shoulda done.”

  He sighed. “Okay, Russ. I can do that.” Jeffrey hardly ever noticed Russ’s Southern accent, it had obviously faded with years of living farther north, but his background sometimes slipped through in his turn of phrase, especially when Russ was drinking. Apparently, it also made an appearance when the man was emotional. “I can’t imagine it would be a big deal, Russ. Oscar would probably appreciate—”

  “You don’t know what he’d appreciate.”

  Russ shut him down hard, so Jeffrey bit his tongue. There was something more going on, and he had to wonder what he’d stumbled into. “Right. Sorry.”

  “Thanks. Have a nice afternoon.”

  “You too, Russ. You too.” He got into his car and pressed the button to start it up. He wasn’t sure how he felt about any of this. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to miss Russ’s company at the bar this weekend.

  Chapter Six

  RUSS MADE sure they got everyone tucked into their stalls and fed and loved on a little early today. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was looking forward to spending some time with Oscar tonight. Yes, it was part business meeting, part hanging out. Yes, he knew Oscar wasn’t into him. Didn’t matter. He liked what he liked, and hell if he didn’t like looking at Oscar.

  He’d gotten a head start on the beer while he started up the grill. Just one to make him a little less self-conscious and loosen up his tongue. He wasn’t the best with small talk, and he knew silence made Oscar uncomfortable for some reason. He wanted to put his best foot forward.

  The rest of the world had switched to gas grills, but he liked good old-fashioned charcoal. Jonas had a big grill, so big he was only cooking in half of it, but it had plenty of room for the coals, and also some mesquite chips he’d put in a foil packet to smoke up some flavor on the steaks.

  He was just thinking about another beer when there was a knocking on
the kitchen window. He turned, and Oscar gave him a wave, so he headed inside.

  “Hey, Boss.”

  “Don’t start that, Russell.” Oscar glared at him but grinned at the same time.

  “Only my mother ever called me Russell. Does that mean you’re schooling me?”

  “You bet your ass.”

  He laughed. “Okay, I hear you. Hello, Oscar.”

  “Russ.” Oscar smiled. “You started without me.”

  Russ looked at the empty bottle in his hand and set it on the counter. “Oh. Yeah. Long day.”

  “Not judging. Just means I can have one too. Check out the steaks. They’ve been marinating for a couple of hours. Rose put them in for me while I was at work.”

  “No kidding? That was nice of her.” Oh, they looked amazing. Thick and lean. He’d have to wait a bit on the fire. These babies needed a good sear and then slow heat. “How do you take your steak?”

  “Rare.” Oscar popped the tops off of two beers and handed him one. “Like really rare. You?”

  “Trot the cow past the coals, I’m good.”

  “Nice.” Oscar held up his bottle. “To… uh. To a beautiful night.”

  “To a beautiful night,” he agreed. They knocked the bottoms of their bottles together before drinking deep. God, he really appreciated a good beer.

  “I’m going to start the sides. I’ve got some sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts to throw in.” He set his beer down and picked up the pan of veggies to roast.

  “Wow. Sounds great.”

  He shrugged. “Easy stuff, just took a little prep.”

  “I’m spoiled. Rose does all the cooking at my house, and Emmett did it before she did. I never learned.”

  “You don’t cook at all?” That seemed absurd.

  “I make a mean peanut butter and banana sandwich. And I’m told my toast is perfectly browned.”

  He laughed. “And here I thought you had it together.”

  “No. Oh, no. Together is not a word that most people use to describe me.” Russ watched the way Oscar’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed his beer.

  Damn.

  “Were you going to put that in the oven?”

  He looked down at the pan of vegetables in his hands. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” Jesus. The man had only been here five minutes and he was already getting distracted. What was the matter with him? “You wanna check out my fire?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He set a timer on his phone for the veggies and led Oscar out the back door. He trotted down the back steps, but Oscar froze on the porch.

  “Oh, man.”

  “What’s up?”

  “That sunset. I’d forgotten how gorgeous it is from here.”

  It was the perfect spot to watch. He looked up at the deep oranges and pinks in the sky. “Jonas once told me he built the house—”

  “So Mom could watch the sunrise from the front porch and the sunset from the back.”

  He nodded and opened up the grill. Everything was ashy and perfect. He started shifting most of the coals to one side of the grill and popped the foil packet of mesquite bricks in, tucking some of the coals around it to make things smoke up.

  “Looking good.” Oscar joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder and smelling so good. “Mesquite?”

  “Thanks. Yeah. Really wakes things up.”

  “Cool.”

  “You know, this is actually ready. You want to grab the steaks?”

  “On it.” Oscar disappeared back into the house, and he breathed a sigh of relief, reminding himself to cool it.

  Twenty minutes later they each had fresh, ice-cold beers, and big plates of steak and veggies. They took their supper out to a picnic table on the side of the house where he’d hung some lights under the umbrella that stuck up through the middle of the table. Oscar pulled out his phone and put on some alternative station on Pandora.

  “This looks so good,” Oscar said, cutting into his steak. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had dinner out without the kids that wasn’t work-related. Like just an adult thing? Honestly, I can’t.”

  “For real? That’s too long, man.”

  “It is. Thanks for suggesting this.” Oscar put a bite in his mouth and smiled. “Oh, so good.”

  “Cool.” He cut himself some and took a bite too, and he had to agree it was fantastic. “That marinade is perfect.”

  “I’ll tell Rose you said so. And seriously. Thanks for the invitation.”

  He looked up at Oscar and smiled. “Sure. It’s just… been a while since we hung out.”

  “Since Dad died.” Oscar nodded. “That’s way too long, and I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to dump this place on you. I—”

  “I know.” He looked into Oscar’s eyes and realized with a strangely calm acceptance that if Oscar wanted it, he’d let those brilliant blues cut right into his soul. “It’s all good. No worries, okay?”

  Oscar watched him for a long moment. “Yeah. Thanks, Russ. I appreciate that.”

  “You bet.” Oscar’s smile made him blush, and he looked back down at his supper, cutting himself another piece of his steak. “So, tell me how the girls are doing.”

  “Oh, wow.” That smile was different now, affectionate. Oscar did have a soft spot for those girls. “The twins are adorable right now. They’re not babies anymore, you know? And the older they get, the more different they become. Riley’s girly and Zoe is a tomboy. They get along great, but they look at everything differently. It’s going to be quite a ride, I think.”

  Russ laughed. “Kind of the point, right?”

  “Oh, absolutely the point. Yes. I’m grateful for every minute of it.”

  “I believe that.” He did. One thing he knew about Oscar, the man didn’t take family time for granted. “And Sophie?”

  “She’s… good, I think. She’s a solid student. She seems to have a couple of nice friends, but she’s so quiet. I’m honestly hoping I’m not missing something. I don’t think I am, but she’s a tough one to read.”

  “Maybe you should get her over here to ride.” God, who was he to give parenting advice? But Sophie needed to ride; he just knew it. “She’s got a way with the horses.”

  “She does?”

  “Honest. I saw it in her the day we buried Jonas. She was great energy in the barn, so calm. Might be good for her.”

  “We could try it, I guess. We’ll have the farm for a little while yet. Though I’d hate to get her hooked and then—well.”

  A little while. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d better start putting out some feelers for a new job. “And Emily?”

  Oscar sighed and took a long pull on his beer before answering. “Emily is good, but she’s got this one last year in high school, and then she’s going to college. She wants to go Ivy League.”

  “She’s a smart kid, isn’t she?”

  “She is. Driven.”

  “I bet she gets in, then. College will be good for her.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I mean, she’s been working her butt off for the grades. I want her to go. She needs to go. I just… this farm better sell well. I don’t know how else I’ll pay for it.”

  “I guess loans and all suck, huh?”

  Oscar shrugged. “I don’t want to go that route. She’s got three sisters, and Sophie is only a couple of years behind her.”

  “Emily could work to help pay, maybe?” He was on his own and working at sixteen after all.

  “She’ll probably have to, yeah. But I want to do as much as I can. I’d hate to see her in debt when she graduates.”

  He smiled at Oscar. “You’re a good dad.” He wasn’t feeling like such a good person right now, himself. He wanted the farm to sell well on the one hand so Oscar and the girls could have what they needed, but on the other hand he didn’t want it to sell at all.

  Oscar laughed. “I do my best.”

  “You want another beer?”

  Oscar nodded. “Just one, I’m driving.”

  When he got up,
hands full of beer bottles, Oscar got up with him and cleared their plates. In the kitchen, they spent a few minutes cleaning up without really talking much. He kept glancing at Oscar, but the man seemed relaxed, busy hands loading the dishwasher.

  “You do that a lot, huh?”

  “Dishes? Every night. Rose does all the cooking, I don’t make her clean too.”

  There was nothing not to like about this man. Nothing, dammit. Not a thing he could twist into a good reason to let go of his feelings. He turned and opened the fridge, then pulled out Oscar’s beer.

  “I’ve got the—” Oscar was right there when he turned around, church key in one hand. Right there, in Russ’s space, not hardly a step away. “Bottle. Opener.”

  They both froze. He swore it wasn’t just him. Oscar was staring at him, blue eyes shining, and he couldn’t breathe. “Oscar.”

  “I—sorry.” Oscar started to step away, but Russ reached for him, caught him by the back of his neck, and pulled their lips together.

  Oscar fought him for a few seconds but then relaxed into the kiss like a dream, which was what it was. A dream coming true. He rested a hand on Oscar’s hip and leaned, and Oscar answered with a soft sound and tangled their fingers together.

  Fuck, Oscar smelled so good. Musky and warm, a little hint of beer. Oscar’s kiss was gentle and a little tentative, but he could feel a hunger brewing under it, lighting his skin on fire. He moaned softly, and Oscar cut the kiss short with a gasp, pulling just an inch away. Those beautiful eyes were cast down where Russ couldn’t see them, but he could see the knot in Oscar’s brow well enough.

  He didn’t move right away, he didn’t dare. But he could only stand like this—this close—for so long. Russ grew impatient and kissed Oscar again, and Oscar leaned in, this time cupping his jaw with warm, trembling fingers.

  This was the real deal. This was happening. That’s it, babe, he thought. Just relax. Breathe, and let me do this for you. He covered Oscar’s hand with his own, but Oscar whimpered at the touch and froze suddenly, breaking their kiss again.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “No.” Oscar dropped his hand and took a step back, and Russ felt the panic rise in his throat.