by Jodi Payne
“So, honestly, Jeffrey and I had a great evening. He’s….”
“Aggressive.”
Oscar nodded and grinned at him. “Hot. Toppy.”
“Confident.”
“All of those things. We had a good conversation too.”
He laughed. “He talks about something other than football?”
“Remarkably, yes.” Oscar chuckled. “He’s something. So different than you are.”
Was that a good thing? He hoped it was a good thing. “Yeah. I don’t have—I’m more—”
“That’s not what I need from you.”
He blinked at Oscar. “Oh.” Oh, wow. It was a good thing. Cool.
“And you have different expectations of me too, I think.”
Russ’s skin started to tingle, and he swallowed. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” Oscar wasn’t really asking, was he? His lover knew exactly what Russ was talking about; it was in those blue eyes.
“That seduction thing with just your voice.” It was hot as anything.
“I don’t know. I don’t really know what you mean, but Emmett used to say things like that. He liked it too.”
“Were you like this with him?”
“You want to know about Emmett?”
“Yes. If you want to tell me.”
Oscar leaned back in his chair. “I don’t mind. I’ve never really had anyone ask, you know? Nearly everyone I know knew him.”
“Jonas told me some. He said Emmett was a good man, that he loved you, that he was a good dad.”
“He said all that?” Oscar looked a little faraway for a second. “Huh.”
“Sure. He liked Emmett.”
“Well, I knew that. I just didn’t know how much.”
He smiled. “Parents are funny that way.”
“Emmett was all of those things. He was….” Oscar got quiet and thoughtful, like he was remembering, choosing the right words maybe. “He came from nothing. He put himself through college and started a geeky accounting career. He got married, had four beautiful girls, lost his wife in an accident, found me, and fought like hell to keep it all. And then he graciously trusted me with his family when he… when it was time to go. He traveled a short but eventful, vibrant, busy road and spent the last few years trying to outrun a coming storm.”
He just stared at Oscar. “Wow.”
Oscar sighed. “I loved him. We were good together.” Oscar look at his hands as he spoke, his voice deep and steady. “I was unhappy when we met and he was… persistent. Kind. Occasionally a real pain in the ass.” Oscar laughed. “The best thing I’d ever had. He loved hard, and he was a fierce champion for his family. He was stubborn as hell, passionate about everything, so we argued a lot. I mean, everything mattered to him. Dinner mattered. Emily’s grades mattered. Mowing the lawn mattered. I mattered.”
“You matter, Oscar.” He wasn’t sure where that came from, even though he knew it was true. “You matter to those girls.”
Oscar nodded. “I do, I know.”
“You matter to me.”
“I know that too.” But Oscar didn’t look up. “I saw it the other night in your eyes. I don’t understand it, but I believe you.”
He reached over the little table and covered Oscar’s fingers with his own. “Thanks for sharing him with me.”
“It’s nice to talk about him with someone I’m not related to.” Oscar looked up and gave him a soft smile. He’d expected to see tears in Oscar’s eyes, but he didn’t. “It feels good to tell someone about him.”
“Anytime.”
“It’s not weird for you?”
“No. Why? Should I be jealous?” He gave Oscar a goofy grin. Oscar laughed. “Right. So anytime.”
“Thanks.”
Oscar pulled his phone out of his pocket and put on some music, which blared a little heavy on the treble from the tiny speakers, and stood up. “Come here.”
Russ grinned and looked around. “Me? Whoa!” Oscar hauled him right off his chair and he fell into his lover’s arms easily.
“Come here often?” Oscar had a strong lead, and Russ wasn’t used to dancing backward.
“Uh, yeah. All the time.”
“Right, I thought I’d seen you before. You’re the guy who has the thousand-pound girlfriend with the black mane.”
He laughed. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”
“I can do better by you than she can.”
“Well, she’s faster, but you make a better sandwich for sure.”
Oscar laughed, holding him close, leading him slow and steady around the barn. “This is fun.”
“I’ve never done this.” It was strange and wonderful.
“Danced?”
“Not like this.”
“Really? I love to dance. Love it.” Oscar spun him suddenly, laughing as he grabbed on with both hands.
“Whoa!”
Time disappeared for a bit while they danced, Oscar’s strong lead making it easy for him to follow and just enjoy himself. Oscar was a total surprise. He knew the man as stoic, responsible, quiet—all those things that Oscar had been while Jonas was alive. Then the thing with Jeff…. That had been eye-opening too. Oscar obviously made time for the gym and wasn’t shy. But more than any of that, he loved this. Fun, romantic, and Russ felt… taken care of. That was a first. An honest-to-God first. He’d had a couple of lovers, but he’d never had this before.
Oscar hooked a finger under his chin, and he lifted it, accepting the kiss that was waiting for him. It was gentle and warm and without the hesitation. Oscar was confident and strong, the shaking fingers and the pained expression from that night in the kitchen long gone.
“Oscar,” he whispered against his lover’s lips.
“Tell me, Russ. Tell me that you can—”
“I can. I can make this feel right again. You’ve lost a lot, Oscar.”
“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”
“No, of course you’re not. You have those beautiful girls. You have Rose. They are your family. You’re lucky to have so many people that love you. I want to show you this can be good too. I want to be here when you need me. Let me do that for you?”
Oscar nodded slowly. “This is what I meant, Russ. This is something I can’t get from Jeffrey. Not like this. He’s got something I need, and so do you. I don’t want to have to decide between you, but I can’t live with myself if I don’t know that it’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me.” He went up on his toes and kissed Oscar. “It’s okay. I have a little thing for Jeff too.”
“Yeah? A little thing?”
“Pretty sure it’s mutual. The way he looks at me, it’s… he wants me. I love that.”
Oscar nodded. “So we’re going to try this?”
“Yeah. He wants to. I want to.”
“Russ.” Oscar pulled him close again. “I’ve been so…. I’m not alone, but I’m lonely. My heart needs this.”
“Your heart is safe with me, Oscar.”
The barn, the horses, the music on the radio, the chilly night air—everything disappeared as Oscar kissed him again.
Chapter Fifteen
“THEY LIKED the property, Jeff, but they’re concerned about the location.”
Jeff shook his head. “It’s a very quiet, private road—”
Amy interrupted him. “It’s a little out of the way for them. And honestly, the house isn’t modern enough.”
“It’s classic. It was built for a farming family. It’s only had one owner.”
“Look, I’ll ask my clients again in a few days, but I don’t think they’re interested. The property is beautiful, though, for the right buyer.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Maybe see if the seller would be interested in renovating the house?”
“I’ll talk to him. Thanks, Amy.”
“Good luck.”
Jeffrey hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. That was the fourth family to tour the propert
y and turn it down because the house either wasn’t modern enough or big enough. He got it, and he didn’t get it. It was a classic farmhouse, the kind you see on Christmas cards and in the movies, painted white with black shutters and surrounded by a wide porch, sitting up on a snowy hill, with red barns in the background. It was lovely.
Granted, inside it had some older-home issues. The floors could use refinishing, the kitchen was on the small side, some of the bedrooms had tiny closets, and there were only two full bathrooms upstairs for five bedrooms. The house was what the real estate industry called “charming” or “quaint.” It fit in beautifully on the property. He so appreciated all the insight that Oscar had had about it—the stories about how it was built, the east-west facing porches, the odd, snaking driveway. Those were the kinds of details that sold houses like this.
But he was learning that these days horse farms weren’t all what they once were. Not in this market anyway. In some circles in the horse world, farms were status symbols like McMansions were in suburbia. Newer owners wanted the fancy white fencing, the big modern home, lots of meticulously groomed green fields. Stable Hill wasn’t that kind of farm. It was a working family property, where the small staff was kept very busy and where the animals were always the top priority.
That meant sometimes a coat of paint waited a season, and the fencing was much more functional than fashionable. It meant the condition of the turnout paddocks was more important than killing every weed in the front lawn. It meant the stalls were maintained meticulously but the driveway had potholes.
Apparently when you were a buyer with money and could afford to hire all kinds of people to run the place for you, you weren’t satisfied with just how healthy and happy the animals were. You wanted pretty. And you wanted a bigger, more modern luxury home.
He and Oscar had talked budget. Remodeling the house wasn’t remotely possible, and even if it were, he didn’t think Oscar would go for it. Jonas had built that house fifty years ago for Oscar’s mother, Sarah. There was no scenario he could imagine in which Oscar would say, sure, tear it apart.
The knock at his door startled him.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Steph. Come on in.”
“I have someone who wants to see your farm.”
Oh, thank God. “Yeah?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
Or… “Why not?” He felt an eyebrow climb toward his hairline. He had the worst poker face.
Stephanie laughed and sat in one of the guest chairs in front of his desk. She reached over and put a folder down on the blotter. “FHI.”
“FHI?” FHI…? Wait, that sounds familiar.
“First Home Incorporated?”
Right. Yes. “The real estate company. They um… they build developments, right?”
“Fifty-five-plus active adult residential communities.”
“Retirement homes. Of course.”
“Well, they’re my clients, and they’re interested. They contacted me today, looking to make an appointment.”
“They want to buy a horse farm, huh?”
“Jeffrey.” Stephanie’s tone was scolding, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“I already told you my client wants to find a farming buyer.”
“Oh, that’s right. We had this conversation, didn’t we? Silly me. And how is that going for you?”
He looked at her. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”
“Four.”
“Okay, a few.”
“A few is three. It’s been several. Enough to judge interest.”
He sighed. “I suppose you think you’re helping by sitting here arguing semantics with me?”
“I am being helpful. It’s more than semantics. These guys want to see it. They like the location, and I’m positive they’ll make an offer.”
He eyed Stephanie and reached for the folder, then read over the email she’d printed for him. FHI’s proposal, of course, was to purchase the property with the intention of building one of their residential communities. They had no need for the horses or the equipment, which would mean that Oscar could sell those off separately on his own and bring in an extra profit. And if they did make an offer, it would likely be more than Oscar could get from a private buyer. He closed the file.
“My client wants to sell it to someone who wants an operational horse farm,” he said steadily.
“Mhm. You said. My client wants to see the property. I’ll just leave that email with you. Does next week work? Tuesday?” Stephanie stood up.
“There’s more in it for him than the bottom line, Steph.”
“For him, maybe. For you? No. Tell him about it and see what he says. Dollar signs are persuasive. Text me a good time for Tuesday.” And with that, she left the room.
She was right; he needed to pay his rent. But his client was also his lover now, and he knew this would not go over well.
He wasn’t going to give up. There were places he’d managed to sell that had a lot less to offer than Stable Hill. But this could wait until tomorrow because right now it was time to get home and shower for a hot date with his men.
Chapter Sixteen
RUSS WONDERED at first how long Oscar was going to let him hang out in the doorway before acknowledging him. After a minute or two, he realized Oscar genuinely didn’t know he was there. He broke the silence. “Taking a break?”
Oscar looked up at Russ from the edge of the bed and smiled. “Something like that.”
“This is hard for you, huh?” Oscar’s mom passed away years before Jonas did. Her name was Sarah, and several items in this room were inscribed with her name or her initials, SRK, Sarah Reardon Kennedy. Jonas told him once that he’d given a lot of them to Sarah because she loved personalized things—stationery, jewelry, pens, a tissue holder, several picture frames.
Oscar held one of those frames with gentle hands right now. “I don’t know. It’s not as hard so much as it is a ‘walk down memory lane’ thing, you know? All this stuff that was Mom’s. Everything has a story.”
He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room, then went to Oscar and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You want to tell me one?”
Oscar shrugged. It was hard to tell if he felt like talking or not, so Russ didn’t push.
“You haven’t hung the new curtains yet. How about I do that while you pack that box?”
“Yeah? That would be great, thanks. I could use the company.”
He smiled and gave Oscar a kiss on the cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”
“I’m not very good at that.”
He knew how that felt. “I get it. Neither am I.” He took one of the curtain rods down and slid the delicate lace valence off the rod and onto the bed. “Jeffrey asked me about the separate rooms. Your mom used this as a dressing room, right?”
“Yes. They built the house with all these bedrooms because they wanted more kids. They wanted a huge family. When that didn’t work out for them, Mom took this room as a dressing room. She did come in here sometimes if Dad was snoring or if she was angry with him. He didn’t like that at all.”
He chuckled. “So it was effective?”
“Very.” Oscar laughed. “There was this one time I remember, when Mom was upset with Dad about something and she didn’t speak to him for days. Literally days. I have no idea what it was originally about, but he was desperate to fix it. He did dishes and laundry, the lawn was mowed, he fixed little things round the house. Finally after he spent like four days not being spoken to, he stood in the kitchen and shouted at her, ‘All right, I’m sorry!’”
“Uh-oh. Did she accept?”
“Yep. She said, ‘Thank you, dear. Was that so difficult?’ and asked him what he wanted for dinner. You had to see his face.”
“All of that just for an apology.” He snorted.
“Yep. Please, thank you, I’m sorry… Mom was a stickler for saying the right thing.”
“I love you?” He was teasing, mostly.
&n
bsp; Oscar grinned at him. “You know, it’s funny. Neither of them said it much that I heard. It was understood, though. It was obvious to look at them.”
“My folks were like that.”
“Yeah? Tell me about them.”
“Not much to tell. They’re farmers. Mother raised a handful of us, and my dad was a cowboy. That’s about all there is to it.” He didn’t have much else to say. There were some good years when he was younger, lots of siblings to chase after him, horses to ride, friends. But he figured out early who he was. Not long after that, he figured out he wouldn’t be wanted if anyone found out. He couldn’t do it, hiding felt like torture most of the time, and very soon after that someone outed him.
Oscar nodded. “Yeah. My parents were great, but it still took them a little time to warm up to me.”
“My dad never did. Mom is… better about it. I left home at sixteen.” He threaded the new, boring, solid-color valance onto the curtain rod and set it down while Oscar wrapped the picture frame in newspaper and put it in the box.
“Well, I’m glad you made it up this way.”
He grinned. “Seems like a good call so far.”
“Thanks for the help up here.”
Oscar stepped up behind him and kissed his neck, giving him shivers. This casual touching was strange and new but definitely something he could get used to. He sighed and leaned into Oscar.
“Small wonder no work is getting done in here.”
Russ looked over at Jeff, turning in Oscar’s arms. “Oscar was thinking too hard.”
“I needed some direction.” Oscar shrugged against him.
Jeff sauntered over and put an arm around each of them. “Looks to me like you found it.” Jeff kissed him a sweet hello first and then Oscar, who gave Jeff the most amazing smile. “Might be the wrong direction, though. This needs to get done today.”
Oscar groaned and pulled away, heading back to the dresser. “Taskmaster.”
“I beg your pardon. I believe I have been more than patient.”
“You have. I’m sorry I haven’t done this sooner. It’s just—”
“It’s difficult.” Russ looked between them. “Don’t be an ass, Jeff. Leave him alone.”
