Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  “Oh, this is lovely,” she said, gazing up through the canopy of pine boughs above them to glimpse patches of powder-blue sky. “It’s like a grotto, designed by Mother Nature.”

  Kennedy nodded. “When it’s warm in the afternoon, I like to brace my back against this log and crack the books. It’s a great place to study. At the bunkhouse, I get interrupted a lot.”

  Erin took a breath of the air. Deep in a wooded area, the moldy scent of a forest floor lent the light breeze a scent of timelessness. “It centers you, I bet. I think it would me.”

  “Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He tugged at the limp collar of his plaid work shirt. “When I’m stressed-out about something, this place reminds me that the day-to-day shit in our lives doesn’t really matter in the end.”

  Erin couldn’t help but smile. “As you just heard in the kitchen, guys don’t have a corner on angst. Now that I know about this place, I might come here to unwind myself.”

  Kennedy pushed a hand through his straight, blond hair. Unlike Wyatt, he wore his short, but he was no less handsome. At thirty-two, Erin felt no physical attraction to him, but she imagined females a decade her junior probably had heart palpitations when he grinned at them. “I, um—” He broke off and tugged at his collar again. “Speaking of what I overhead at the house, there’s something I feel obligated to tell you, and there’s no way to say it except straight out.”

  Curiosity welled within her. “I’m listening.”

  Kennedy straightened his legs and studied the toes of his upturned riding boots. “I know you’ve got the hots for my brother.”

  Erin’s first reaction was to cringe with humiliation. Had she been that obvious? The thought that everyone on the ranch might have noted her interest in Wyatt was embarrassing. For an instant, she considered denying the charge, but that was silly. Kennedy’s brother was a very good-looking man, and there was no question in her mind that a lot of local women had the hots for him.

  “I realize now that the feeling isn’t mutual,” she settled for saying. “If you brought me down here to ask me to back off, it’s unnecessary.”

  A flush crept up his neck. “No! No. Nothing like that. I just—well, I can’t stand aside and keep quiet when I know you’re about to make a huge career change partly because you think your job turns men off. I’ve seen how Wyatt responds to you, and I can’t let you go on thinking it has anything to do with you personally. He’s that way with all women. He’s never been interested, if you know what I mean.”

  The nape of Erin’s neck tingled. “What are you saying, Kennedy?”

  He took a deep breath and expelled it with a puff of his lean cheeks. “This can’t ever be repeated. You need to promise me that.”

  “I promise.”

  He raked the heel of one boot over a gold carpet of last year’s pine needles. “I, um—please, understand that I’m only guessing. Okay? Wyatt’s never said one way or the other, but I have every reason to think he’s gay.”

  Erin gaped at him. “Wyatt? What on earth makes you think that?”

  “Apart from the fact that he’s thirty-three years old and has never dated, you mean?” Kennedy held her gaze. “Never, Erin. Not once in high school, and as far as I know, never as an adult, either.”

  Erin averted her gaze to stare off at nothing. Kennedy’s revelation was startling. “Being deaf from birth isn’t easy. I’m sure you’re more aware than I am of all the social difficulties your brother has faced. Imagine struggling to find the words to ask a girl out, only to have her laugh or turn you down cold. Maybe striking out with girls was so unpleasant that he just stopped trying.”

  Kennedy fixed his gaze on the creek. The blush on his cheeks faded. “I thought of all that, and for a long time, I believed Wyatt never approached women because they wanted no part of him. He used to talk weird. He didn’t have a bunch of guy friends like I did, either. He hated school and couldn’t wait to get home every day. Then he spent every afternoon and evening with the horses.” He turned an imploring gaze to Erin. “I understood that, even as young as I was. He was different than me. He felt more comfortable with animals than he did with people. But you can hardly tell he’s deaf when he talks now. Very few people figure out that he can’t hear unless he tells them. I’ve seen a lot of women flirt with him.” He gestured limply with one hand. “He could have his pick. But he walks away and never looks back. He has zero interest.”

  Erin throat constricted, making her voice sound thin as she asked, “Are you homophobic, Kennedy?”

  He looked startled by the question. “No. Heck, no. Why do you ask?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “I just wonder why you’ve never come right out and asked Wyatt. If you’re correct about Wyatt’s sexual orientation, and I think you probably are, it isn’t a bad thing unless you or others in your family could never accept it.”

  Kennedy leaned his head back and closed his eyes. As his lashes fluttered back up, he said, “I can’t speak for my parents or my grandpa. But if Wyatt’s gay, I’ll be fine with it.”

  “Do you think your parents and grandfather may come unglued?”

  He straightened and crossed his legs. “I honestly don’t know. As for never getting in Wyatt’s face about it—well, it’s not an easy subject to broach. You know? I’ve almost asked him a few times, but I lost my nerve.”

  Erin remembered thinking her friend Julie was out of her mind for suggesting that Wyatt wasn’t attracted to women. It wasn’t as easy to discount the possibility with Kennedy. He was Wyatt’s brother and knew him better than anyone else. “I really appreciate your telling me this. Whether you’re right or wrong, it helps to know that Wyatt avoids all women, not only me.”

  Kennedy’s shoulders relaxed. “I wanted you to know so you won’t let his lack of interest push you into changing your profession.”

  Erin couldn’t help but chuckle, albeit without much humor. “So where does that leave me? I’ve been here over a year now, and not one guy has asked me out.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yes, a big ouch.”

  Kennedy pushed to his feet. “Thanks for lending me an ear, and please keep what I’ve told you to yourself. I feel like I’ve betrayed my brother by talking to you.”

  Erin rose from the log and wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’re a good guy, Kennedy. The way Wyatt treated me yesterday did do a number on my self-confidence. And it hurt my feelings. Now I feel better about all that.” She wrinkled her nose. “Wow. I never would have hit on him if I had known.”

  “Well,” he warned, “we don’t really know anything for sure.”

  “True, but just being aware that it’s a probability is a Band-Aid for my wounded ego. Thank you for the heads-up.”

  Kennedy gestured upstream. “I’m taking the long way back. I’d rather Wyatt doesn’t see us walking out of the woods together. He’ll wonder what we were doing down here.”

  “Good thinking.” She lifted a hand. “Bye for now, and thanks again.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Normally Erin enjoyed the drive from the ranch back into town. She watched for deer that might bound out onto the road. She tried to remember the common names of the flora that encroached on the drainage ditches. If it was fair weather and there wasn’t much traffic dust, she liked to roll down the windows and breathe in all the wonderful smells. But this afternoon she had other things to think about. In so many ways, Kennedy’s theory about Wyatt made sense. Except for the day they first met, when he’d felt obligated to nurse her injuries and transport her back to the trailhead, he’d tried to keep his distance from her. It was almost as if something about her set off all his internal alarms. She’d tried to camouflage her attraction to him with mere friendliness, but if Kennedy had noticed, it stood to reason that Wyatt had as well. Little wonder that he avoided her. He was probably afraid she would abandon
subtlety and actually hit on him. That would have been embarrassing for both of them.

  She just wished that he’d come right out with it. Something along the lines of, I’m flattered, but I date men. At least then she would have understood his coolness toward her and wouldn’t have taken it personally. Most people were pretty open about their lifestyle choices unless, like Julie’s ex-husband, Derek, they had reasons for secrecy. Maybe Wyatt’s parents or grandfather would flip out if he told them the truth. Erin had never been judgmental and found it difficult to understand others who were, but she was also realistic enough to know that not everyone saw the world through the same lens she did. Her heart would hurt for Wyatt if he believed his parents would refuse to accept him for who he was. She knew firsthand how horrible that felt. Her father had withheld his approval of her since the day of her birth simply because she’d been born a girl and he would have preferred a boy.

  Once at the cottage, Erin heated soup for dinner, ate while checking the latest news updates on her phone, and then adjourned to her bedroom to get her uniform laid out for work the next day. She drew comfort from rituals, a trait her mother had drilled into her since childhood, and she always slept better when she knew she’d have no surprises in the morning to make her late. Boots, polished and by the dresser. Check. Shirt and trousers, both freshly laundered, starched, and pressed. Check. Clean underwear. Check. When she finished, she wandered back to the kitchen, located the bottle of wine that she and Julie hadn’t finished last night, and filled a clean goblet. Then she drew a hot bath.

  As she undressed, she studied her body in a full-length mirror on the interior side of the bathroom door. She doubted that any woman loved everything about her body. It was normal to wish for perkier breasts, a flatter stomach, and narrower hips. But Erin wanted none of those things. Instead she wished for softer lines. Given that she exercised daily to maintain her well-defined musculature, her dissatisfaction with the results made no sense at all. But there it was in a nutshell. She hated how she’d made herself look, but she couldn’t stop pushing herself to maintain every ounce of strength she possessed. It was a compulsion, one that she hadn’t yet brought up during her counseling sessions with Jonas Sterling, not because she didn’t think it was a problem, but because it would sound so weird to say it aloud. I bust my ass every day to have a body like a man’s. What woman in her right mind did that? But Erin couldn’t deny the evidence of her own eyes. Her trapezius, deltoid, and triceps muscles were overdeveloped. And she’d worked so hard on her pectoralis majors that her breasts capped the mounds like an extension of the muscles, no longer pointy and softly shaped, but far firmer than was considered feminine. She knew there were women who liked the look, but Erin no longer did and she had no idea what to do about it except to stop working out and lifting weights.

  Tears gathered in her eyes. Refusing to let them spill down her cheeks, she struggled not to blink as she climbed into the tub. She would enjoy a glass of wine and focus on positive things, first and foremost that Wyatt had indeed been shunning her, that it wasn’t all in her head, and that she should be relieved to know his distaste for her had nothing to do with her looks or how she came off to men. She could be the most beautiful and feminine woman in the world, and Wyatt would still have no interest.

  * * *

  * * *

  Wyatt struggled to fall asleep, hoping that his tossing and turning wasn’t keeping the other men in the bunkhouse awake. He couldn’t tell if his cot squeaked or if bunching up his pillow made an annoying sound. In addition to Kennedy and Tex, two newly hired guys now slept in the room. If he kept all of them from getting their rest, they would be as cranky as old ladies tomorrow. Not that he hadn’t been short-tempered himself today. Busting his ass from dawn until almost dark and then not being able to sleep at night had him running on pure adrenaline and foul moods.

  He carefully released a pent-up breath, wondering if expelling air from the lungs made a sound that bothered others. What he needed to do was get out of this stuffy building and away from everyone else. Where he would go, he had no clue. He only knew he needed some alone time. Even sleeping in the hay-storage building would be better than this. At least there he wouldn’t have to worry about making noise and disturbing his men.

  Clad in only boxers, he sat up on the edge of his cot, jerked on his jeans, and then stood to button and zip them. Not bothering with socks, he shoved his bare feet into his boots and grabbed only his discarded T-shirt, which he carried balled up in his fist until he escaped outdoors. The chilly night air licked at his chest and made his skin pebble, but he wasn’t worried about getting cold. He kept a jacket in his truck, and he could collect it if necessary. For now he just needed to work up a good sweat, and the best way he knew to do that was at the business end of a shovel. He struck off for the horse barn. On a ranch this size, there was never a shortage of work to be done, so he’d just muck out stalls until physical exertion drove the tension from his body. If shoveling didn’t do the trick, maybe a dip in the creek would give him some relief.

  Tugging on his shirt as he strode to the barn, Wyatt silently lectured himself for suddenly feeling dissatisfied with his life. Well, he guessed it wasn’t sudden, not really. It had started last fall after he met Erin De Laney and had grown progressively worse over the last several months. Now he was so strung out with sexual frustration that he couldn’t sleep for fear that he’d dream of her again and ejaculate in his sleep.

  He wasn’t what he considered to be a horny guy, constantly thinking about sex and panting after women. Hell, no. He’d tapped into that side of his nature for a few months while he worked in Medford, Oregon. It had ended in disaster, and he’d sworn never to have sex again. And he’d been just fine for six years, never feeling frustrated or overcome with yearnings when he was around a woman. He’d been content with his work, happy to spend most of his time tending to animals. Slade Wilder was a great employer, fair, levelheaded, and always willing to do anything he asked his men to do. The bunkhouse wasn’t exactly the Taj Mahal, but it wasn’t a bad place to live. The kitchen was fairly large and well equipped with appliances. They had only one full bath, but there was a second sink and toilet for urgent use. In the living area, they had a state-of-the-art flat-screen television with surround sound, Dish Network, and a Netflix account that Slade provided free of charge. Wyatt couldn’t enjoy the sound system, but he greatly appreciated the closed captions at the bottom of the screen when he watched the news or a film. Life was good. It was great. So what was he bellyaching about?

  When he reached the barn, he didn’t go inside, choosing instead to walk around the building and adjoining paddock to head for the creek. He knew the water would be cold, but right at the moment, freezing his nuts off sounded like a stellar plan.

  When he reached the creek bank where he knew the water was deep, he took off his boots and clothes. Then he dived in. The shock that came with plunging into the icy water was worse than he expected. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, and his heart felt as if it might stop. Not a risk taker by nature, he almost scrambled back out, but his common sense forestalled him. The cold wouldn’t kill him, and maybe if he stayed in long enough, it would shrink his aching balls. He’d read about men doing this to control their sexual urges. If it had worked for them, maybe it would work for him.

  Before he got out of the water, he paddled to keep his head above the surface until his body began to feel numb. Then he stood on the rocky bank shivering and feeling like an idiot because he hadn’t thought to bring a towel. A night breeze blew along the creek corridor. He hadn’t noticed it when he was dry, but now it felt like an arctic blast. He tried squeegeeing water from his skin with his hands, but that didn’t work. He finally opted to use his T-shirt to rub himself halfway dry and then just pulled on his shorts and jeans. After donning his boots, he headed back to the ranch proper to get his coat.

  He still wasn’t warm when he entered the hay barn, and he hadn
’t stopped to consider that the huge, round bales wouldn’t provide him with a flat surface to lie on. He found a couple of horse blankets to pad the crevice between two bales and settled in for the night. The moment he started to feel halfway warm again, he heaved a sigh of relief. With any luck, maybe now he could sleep.

  Only he wasn’t lucky. When his body temp got back to normal, the throbbing ache in his groin resumed. He lay on his back in the dark, staring stupidly upward into what seemed like absolute blackness. He’d been unable to hear all his life, but the addition of sudden blindness made him feel claustrophobic. He scrambled to escape, got his boot stuck between the massive bales, and panicked until all his tugging finally jerked his foot from the shoe. Shit. Now what was he going to do? He had spare boots in the bunkhouse, but he wasn’t about to go in there to get them. He’d wake everyone and have to explain what he was doing up in the middle of the night.

  Heart still pounding from the panic attack, Wyatt talked himself down. This was a gigantic building, nothing confining about it, and he’d just let his imagination get the better of him. The darkness couldn’t hurt him, even though it blinded him. He flopped back down and stared into the blackness again. Errant thoughts of Erin De Laney slipped into his mind. How her pretty blue eyes went dark when her feelings got hurt, more precisely when he hurt her feelings. How she would catch herself in a masculine stance, quickly correct her posture, and then flush with embarrassment. How, when she donned civilian clothes, she always wore a top that covered her shoulders and arms because she felt compelled to hide her torso. When in her presence, he found himself wanting to tell her how beautiful he thought she was and that she needed to stop trying so hard to be feminine. Hello. God had taken care of that for her. She could stand with her feet spread and her arms akimbo until hell froze over, and she’d never look manly.

  Only he could tell her none of those things, because she’d know he was attracted to her the second he opened his mouth. That could not happen. He just needed to get his head on straight and stop thinking about her. So instead he fell back on a game that he’d played with himself since childhood. He asked himself, What does the chirp of a bird sound like? When cattle bawl, what does the lowing sound like? What does the wind in the trees sound like? What does a rifle shot sound like? What does a belch or fart sound like? It was a stupid game. How could he liken any sound to another one when he’d never heard anything at all?