Only for the Weekend

by Jen FitzGerald

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Contributors

  Dedications

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  End Notes

  About Jen

  Books By Jen

  Only For the Weekend

  A Ten Rigs Texas Tale

  Jen FitzGerald

  Knotted Hearts Publishing

  Knotted Hearts Publishing

  Fort Worth Texas

  www.knottedheartspublishing.com

  Published in the Unites States of America

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2018 Jen FitzGerald

  All rights reserved.

  First edition.

  ISBN: 978-1-948236-05-8

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Contributors

  Content/copy editing provided by

  Alicia Street

  iProofreadandMore.com.

  Cover art created by

  Yocla Designs.

  Dedications

  To my three precious children.

  ~ To my Brown-Eyed Girl, who's been to hell and back. We may not have much in common besides our blood, but you are the first. I’m awed by how much you love me and your support of my writing means the world to me.

  ~ To my Darling Daughter, and the one most like me. You were the good child when your siblings were a challenge and for that I will be eternally grateful. I'm sorry you ever felt neglected or less important and if I could go back and change that, I would.

  ~ To my Sonshine, who left a hole the size of Texas in me when he left home. What can I say that you don't already know? You were my baby and my favorite. Thankfully, your sisters never held that against you.

  I wish each of you every success and happiness in life.

  Chapter One

  Cole Reid follows Pammy and the shelter dog that she’d brought in for Susan to look at through the vet clinic. He thought he’d recognized Pammy’s voice and had come to investigate why his cousin was in the clinic. Shaggy’s nails click on the concrete floor as they pass the large birdcage with the resident large breed cockatoo. The bird squawks at them and puffs up her pale pink feathers. Cole taps a fingernail on the cage. “Easy, girl.”

  “You coming to the reunion?” Pammy asks, stopping at the glass front doors of the clinic. Blue-tinted hair is piled on her head. A small stud sits in the flesh of her left eyebrow. The Houston Astros tee is faded and bleach-splotched; multiple holes and rips mar her jeans. The red Chucks have seen better days. Of course, she works at the kennel, so he gets why she appears so scraggly at the moment.

  “I am.” Cole nods. “I’m back in Ten Rigs. No excuse not to.” He offers her a lopsided smile that feels more like a grimace on the inside. It’s his first family reunion since his freshman year at A&M what seems like a lifetime ago. In reality, it’s been six years, and so much has happened.

  Pammy throws her arms around him. “Well, cuz, I, for one, am glad you’re back. I want you to meet Rafe.”

  “Rafe, huh?” Cole’s eyebrow arches. This time his smile is genuine.

  She nods. “Rafael Sanchez, my boyfriend. We’re not at that point yet, but I think he’s the one. So, yeah. What about you? Family rumor mill is churning overtime that all work and no boyfriend is making Cole a very dull and crabby boy.”

  And that’s not a surprise. Maybe he is dull and crabby, but he’s earned the right.

  “Well, you know, I’ve been a little busy becoming a veterinarian for six out of the last ten years.” Not to mention the death of his fiancé that he had to deal with on top of some epic coursework. He hasn’t had the time, energy, or even the inclination to be in another relationship.

  “I know, man, but seriously. You’ve been home, what? A year? Maybe it’s time to find happiness again.” After a wink and a snap of her chewing gum, she adds, “Or at least a little fun.”

  Cole huffs a laugh. There’s a decent club in Big Spring that he visits every once in a while to do just that. Casual, no-pressure hookups to take care of his physical needs when his own hand just doesn’t do the trick. “I have fun.”

  A surprised expression rounds her big gray eyes, and a smirk twists her lips. “Do you now? Gilmore Girls marathons and Chunky Monkey ice cream binges?”

  “Hey, watch it, squirt. It’s How I Met Your Mother and Blue Bell’s Pecan Praline’s ‘n Cream. I’m a proper Texas boy.”

  Pammy laughs, head thrown back. “Fair enough. Okay.” She presses a kiss to his cheek. “See you at the lake then. Bye, Kara!” The German shepherd limps out the door ahead of Pammy, his back left paw wrapped in gauze.

  “See you,” says Cole.

  “Bye,” says Kara.

  Cole turns to Kara, sitting quietly behind the receptionist’s desk, typing away. Crinkles frame her eyes and the corners of her mouth are turned up.

  “Does everyone seriously think I’m that pathetic? That I don’t have a life?” He looks up into the rafters of the open-ceiling gridwork and sighs.

  “They’re just worried about you,” Kara says, drawing his gaze. “You’ve worked so hard for the last several years. The ranchers and their livestock love you, for sure, but that won’t keep you warm at night. Pammy’s right; you deserve some happiness.”

  Everyone’s forgetting that happiness was snatched away from him, not once, not twice, but three times. The fates don’t seem to think he deserves it.

  “Maybe you should sign up for one of those meet-people activity groups,” says Kara.

  “A dating site?” he scoffs. Call him old-fashioned, but that kind of thing isn’t for him.

  “Not a dating site.” She shakes her head, still typing away. Her copper-colored curls bounce with the motion. Dark brown eyes glance at him. “Just group activities—trips to amusement parks or museums, hiking or camping trips. Wine tasting, cooking classes, all kinds of things. My aunt got divorced a couple of years ago after being married for fifteen years, and she had few friends outside her and her ex’s shared friends. She joined one of those organizations and says it was one of the best decisions she made. Now she goes and does all the time.”

  “Huh.” He is starting to settle back into the ebb and flow of Ten Rigs life. The workload has evened out. Truth be told, he could use a few more friends outside of his family. He could use some friends, period. Hiking, wine tasting, amusement parks all sound like fun. Relationships, though…he’s done with those. They never seem to work out. “Maybe,” he says. “In the meantime, I’m going to have to endure a long weekend of pitying looks and nosy questions, aren’t I?”

  Kara throws him a wink. “Well, you could just stay home and plow through Orange is the New Black and a couple of gallons of Blue Bunny’s Bunny Tracks.”

  * * *

  Tucker Naughton wiggles his toes inside the foot soaker. The lavender scent of the Epsom salts floats up on the steam of the hot-as-he-can-stand water. His aching tootsies are
screaming their thanks. The library hadn’t been any busier than usual today, but perhaps wandering around the apartment in his bare feet yesterday hadn’t been such a good idea. The rug in the living room of his and Kara’s tiny little two-bedroom is worn thin and the wood flooring is uneven, but it had been so hot, he couldn’t stand having anything on his feet.

  “So, now, poor Cole’s freaking out because he thinks everyone in his family pities him.” Kara takes a bite of her Bunny Tracks ice cream. She’s lying stretched out on their old nubby sofa, ankles resting on the arm with foam spreaders between her brightly painted toes.

  Tucker sighs. If only he could pull off that shade of purple. “He should take a date to that family thing. Show ‘em all he’s out and proud.” He slides a spoon in and out of his mouth and “mmms” around a bite of rocky road. The cold chocolate melts in his mouth, and God, does he love chocolate.

  “That’s the problem. He doesn’t know many people in Ten Rigs or anywhere else that I can gather.”

  “Hmm…” says Tucker, taking another delicious bite. They eat in companionable silence for a few moments.

  Tucker knows Cole a little bit. He is Kara’s boss, after all. They’ve met several times.

  Cole’s around his height, but he’s bulkier—in that way that looks effortless but comes from hard physical labor and a little help from regular workouts. With dark hair, eyes that could be light brown or hazel—Tucker’s never been close enough to tell—and a Roman nose, Cole is classically handsome, and Tucker wouldn’t mind getting all up in Cole’s business, that’s for damn sure.

  “I’ll be his date.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. Or think the whole thing through. Tucker’s not a subtle gay and Cole seems as straitlaced as a gay man can be. The likelihood of Cole agreeing to such a thing is pretty slim, so Tucker releases the breath he’d taken in surprise at his own crazy idea.

  “Wait. What?” Kara sits up and looks at him, her brown eyes wide. “Really? You’d do that?”

  Well, shit. Would he? He gazes into his mostly empty pint of ice cream. He swallows the marshmallows and nuts in his mouth and seriously considers it. “Well, let’s see…long weekend at the lake. That’s fun. Free food? I’m so there. Three days with hunky Dr. Cole Reid? How could anyone consider that a hardship, right? I mean, have you seen the guy?”

  Okay, so maybe Tucker lusts after Cole a little more than he wants to admit to Kara. Also, Cole may not, probably won’t, want to share anything more physical than a buss on the cheek or loose hand holding to complete the charade. That’s if he agrees to the idea at all. “Sure. If he agrees, I’m in.”

  Which he won’t. Because he’s mature and grown up and why would he?

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, Kara.” Tucker pulls his feet from the footbath and sets them on the towel on the floor. “Seriously.” Why the hell not? The chances of Cole agreeing are slim. “Remember when he treated Benji last winter? I kind of owe him.”

  She nods and makes a sad face. Ultimately, Benji had had to be put to sleep, but Cole had treated Benji free of charge. “I miss that cat.” Then she squeals like a teenager and snatches her phone off the table. It takes a few moments, but then she’s jabbering at the person on the other end. Tucker’s going to assume it’s Cole, although he wholeheartedly believes in what they say about assuming. He’s been an ass more than once in his life. Hell, more than once this year. You’d think he’d learn. But all things considered, it’s a pretty safe bet she’s talking to Cole.

  Kara stares at her phone and then looks at Tucker with surprised glee etched on her face. “Oh my God—he said yes.”

  Tucker’s heart stops and then stutters back into a rhythm.

  Well.

  That’s…surprising. But okay. Tucker agreed. Cole agreed. So they’ve got a weekend-long date. Tucker’s not sure how to feel about the whole thing now that it’s suddenly become a reality. Cole’s way out of his league, but what the hell? It’s a weekend. Afterward, they go their separate ways. No harm, no foul.

  “Show up at his place the Friday night before and go over the details of your relationship.” She makes air quotes when she says “relationship.” “Texting you his address now...”

  Chapter Two

  Cole’s whole body vibrates as he chops veggies for a salad to go with the lasagna. In hindsight, parading a fake boyfriend around in front of his family is a spectacularly bad idea. Kicking off the charade under his twin’s nose is bad times ten. He’d have called the whole thing off, only he hasn’t got Tucker’s cell number. Kara, the traitor, isn’t answering hers.

  The doorbell rings and Cole drops the knife to the granite countertop with a clatter. Dammit. He’s got to get a hold of himself or the jig will be up.

  Connie’s eyebrows arch. She leaves off petting the white Italian leather of his sofa and heads toward the door. “You expecting someone?”

  Shit. Showtime.

  “Um, yes…” Cole grabs a dishtowel to dry his hands and follows her.

  “There’s a very good-looking guy out there.” Her eye is to the peephole, and her close proximity to the hard wood muffles her words a bit.

  “Yeah, that’s my—” Boyfriend. The word dies in his throat.

  The deadbolt schlicks unlocked and Connie pulls the oak door open. “Hello?”

  Cole’s breath hitches. He’d forgotten how modelesque Tucker actually is with his chiseled jaw, cleft chin, and high cheekbones. Not to mention his incredibly svelte body.

  There’s a beat of surprised silence, and then Tucker says, “Well, hi, there. I’m Tucker. And you must be…” Over bright blue eyes, his plush dark eyebrows arch in question, and he holds out a hand.

  Connie slides her hand into Tucker’s. “Connie.”

  Cole shakes himself out of his shocked silence and says, “Tucker, this is my twin sister, Connie.” Cole swipes sweaty hands down his thighs. “Connie, this is Tucker…my boyfriend.” The word feels strange in his mouth. Not bad strange, just unusual; he hasn’t used the term in years.

  Connie turns wide brown eyes that match his own toward him, hand still clasped in Tucker’s. “Your what? Matthew Cole Reid, since when do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Uh…” Cole’s mouth goes dry. That was one of the things he and Tucker were going to discuss this evening before presenting themselves at the family reunion tomorrow. Connie’s unexpected arrival on his doorstep had thrown him for a loop. Tucker’s arrival has thrown him for another. They’ve met a handful of times. How had Cole forgotten how damned gorgeous Tucker is?

  “Connie, how ‘bout we tell you all about it over dinner?” Tucker slides in the door and presses a kiss to the side of Cole’s mouth. “Hello, sugar,” he says in a tone clearly meant only for Cole and that sends a chill down Cole’s spine.

  The pressure of Tucker’s mouth lingers, and Cole’s not quite sure what to do with that. Some physical contact is to be expected, he knows this, but they haven’t talked about it. He hadn’t even thought about it until just now and the prospect makes his hands and feet sweat. God, they need to have that conversation.

  Tucker holds up a bottle of nice-looking wine. “I hope this goes with dinner, which, whatever it is, smells Italian and also divine.”

  Connie takes the bottle, scans the label, and appears impressed. “Lasagna. I think it’ll go just fine.”

  “Super.” Tucker smiles and winks.

  A pair of this-side-of-skin-tight denim shorts in a salmon color and a white torso-hugging wife beater with a loose unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt in a soft moss green show off Tucker’s stellar physique. His muscles don’t bulge per se, but they’re rounded and defined in a way that makes Cole’s mouth water. Christ on a cracker. That touching thing. Yeah. Terrifying. This was a mistake. A big mistake. Maybe he can pick a big fight and send Tucker packing. Problem solved.

  “Cole, sugar, you didn’t tell me your sister was coming.”

  Cole blinks and looks from Tucker to Connie. “Um, no, I
…sort of forgot. That she was coming.”

  Connie’s eyebrows go up again. A smirk twists her merlot-colored lips.

  “Not that she was coming.” Cole wrings the towel in his hands. “I forgot she was staying here. With me. She usually stays with Mom and Thom, but—”

  “Okay, sugar. It’s fine. Really. I’m nothing if not flexible.” He waggles his brows and swings his hips forward.

  A laugh tickles Cole’s throat, but he’s no good at winging things and he’s too nervous and dumbstruck for it to come to fruition. And Tucker is…well, it’s been a while since they’ve met, and Cole’s forgotten how unsubtly gay Tucker can be. Speech, demeanor, and dress. Tucker has every right to be himself, but Cole feels like the rug is being tugged around beneath his feet.

  Connie laughs though, and it’s enough for Cole to gather his wits.

  “Let’s get your things upstairs.” Cole grabs the handle of the small purple striped suitcase in one hand and Tucker’s hand with the other and drags Tucker toward the stairs. They need to talk. At least for a few minutes. “Connie, will you open the wine?”

  * * *

  “We don’t have much time,” says Cole, setting Tucker’s suitcase next to the white bi-fold closet door.

  Tucker smirks. “Why not? Wouldn’t want Connie to think we’re up here greeting each other properly now, would we? Because God forbid boyfriends show their affection for one another.”

  Cole’s eyes get big and maybe Tucker crossed a line, but the hell with it. He is who he is. He raises his hands to stay Cole’s thoughts or response. “Look, Cole, we’re supposed to be pretending. I know that I came up with this teen-aged farce, but you agreed to it. We can have a fight right now if you don’t want to go through with this, and I can march my happy ass home, but I’m still game if you are.”

  Cole just stares at him for a long moment, a number of expressions flashing across his face, and finally his shoulders sag. “Yeah. I’m game. I… What did Kara tell you?”

  “Honestly?”

  Cole blanches, but nods. “This is only going to work if we’re open, right?”

  “Right. Basically, she said that you thought your family felt sorry for you because you don’t have a love life.”