by A. E. Wasp
“Fuck if I know,” Dakota said. “Me and Lori looked through every inch of the fucking house, and it’s nowhere.” He looked right into Bryce’s eyes, pleading. “Please. It’s my home. Let me have it. Let me buy it from you. I can get a mortgage. I can.”
“I can’t. I can’t give it up.” Bryce’s stomach cramped. Despite his earlier fantasy of running away from the whole situation, he couldn’t tell his whole family that there had been a mistake. They would be so let down. He owed this to them.
Coffee burned a hole in his stomach, and he felt light-headed. The future he’d clung to when he thought about pushing through three more grueling years of travel and injuries, was disappearing in front of his eyes.
Not to mention the monkey wrench his personal revelation was throwing into the whole situation.
Last night he’d admitted to himself that his sexuality had been a major factor in his divorce. Nikki had hurled the accusation at him during the one really bad fight they’d had. Of course, he had vehemently denied it. He was apparently an expert at denial.
He’d hurt Nikki by trying to be someone he suspected he could never be. He wouldn’t do that to another woman. There had been tears in the lonely hotel room as he realized he would never have the wife and kids he’d always wanted.
Could he live in the closet for another three years, now that he knew? If he went back to the Thunder, could he do it and be who he needed to be? He had a desperate urge to call Robbie. He would understand.
Now the home he had pictured himself and his family in might get taken away from him. Bryce dropped his head into his hands.
“Bryce?” Dakota rubbed his back. “Are you okay? You just went so pale.”
Chapter Fourteen
DAKOTA
Concerned, Dakota kept rubbing Bryce’s back, as Peterson poured him a glass of water.
Bryce pinched the bridge of his nose, and breathed heavily. “I got this,” he whispered to himself. The fake smile plastered on his face when he looked back up didn’t reassure Dakota. He took the offered water with a thank you.
Dakota was struck by how much younger Bryce looked without the beard. When he’d walked into the room, Dakota’s first thought had been fuck no. His second though had been fuck me. Please.
Between the perfectly fitted suit, the way he’d pulled his hair back, and the clean shave, Bryce looked like he’d stepped out of a men’s magazine. It was hard to reconcile this Bryce with the blushing, flustered man he’d been in bed with yesterday.
Knowing that Bryce carried the mark of Dakota’s mouth underneath that silk tie and white dress shirt wasn’t helping him focus either.
And now everything was complicated and messed up.
Bryce wasn’t a villain. He wasn’t deliberately trying to ruin Dakota’s life; he was trying to make one of his own.
There was real pain in Bryce’s eyes when he looked at Dakota. “My mother sold her house. She’s packing up to move here next week,” Bryce said softly.
Dakota’s hand tightened on Bryce’s shoulder. “Well, shit.” He couldn’t sit still any more. He stood up and paced the length of the room, rubbing his hand nervously across his mouth.
How was he supposed to feel now? When it had been some stranger taking what was rightfully his and kicking him out of his house, his anger had felt justified. Now he had nowhere to direct it anymore.
It wasn’t Bryce’s fault there was no will. And really, Dakota’s plan to buy the orchard had been a wild dream at best. No one was going to give a twenty-four-year old a business loan.
Bryce obviously had a ton of money. Depending on what his plans were, he could actually be the answer to Dakota’s prayers.
Best of all, he already knew about the money. Dakota had been terrified that the new owner would discover the embezzlement and Dakota’s pathetic attempts to cover it up and make it right. He didn’t understand how it hadn’t already come up.
He stopped and stared at Bryce, shaking his head slightly. “Tommy’s family disowned him for being gay, did you know that?”
“Of course I didn’t. How could I?”
Bryce walked over to Dakota, leaving mere inches between them when he stopped.
Dakota held his ground. Waves of sadness and frustration rolled off Bryce, mirroring the way Dakota felt. He also smelled amazing. Five inches taller than Dakota, with broad, strong shoulders, Bryce felt like a protective wall between him and the world.
How could the person causing all his problems be the same person Dakota wanted to turn to for help? It was fine. He’d gotten this far without help. He would figure it out.
He wished they were alone, back in the dark again where they could talk.
Bryce leaned down to speak into Dakota’s ear. “Your Tommy was my deadbeat - and presumably dead - dad’s uncle. I was his nearest next of kin. That’s how they found me. You know that.”
“Fucking sucks,” Dakota muttered.
To his surprise, Bryce reached out and pulled Dakota into his chest. Dakota’s head fit perfectly into the curve of his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Okay? We’ll figure it out. You’re not going to be homeless.”
Dakota pulled away. Leaning on Bryce was too comfortable. Sure, Bryce was all confident that everything would work out now, but Dakota had a feeling Bryce didn’t have a good grasp on the scope of his inheritance.
When Bryce’s mother got there and they got good look at they were getting into, there was a more than decent possibility that they would simply sell the land off. Enough people, not just Kyle, had said that to Tommy and Dakota over the years.
If they had half a brain, they would sell off all but a few acres around the house, bank the money, and live happily ever after. It’s what any sane person would do.
Besides, Bryce was only here for a few months. No way could Dakota let himself depend on him.
“And the other thing?” Dakota asked, looking at Bryce meaningfully.
“I’m not like I have all the details, but I’m sure we can figure it out. I prom –”
Dakota cut him off with a look. “Don’t say it.”
“You never told me any of this,” Bryce said to Dakota. “Not once in any of the emails did you say you were worried about losing your home. Which isn’t going to happen, by the way.”
When he’d first written to Bryce, Dakota had been acting in a panic. He had figured offering to buy the property outright was a better tactic than begging not to be kicked off.
Plus, the thought of having to put up with strangers living in the big house, of having to work and live with people he didn’t know, made Dakota sick to his stomach.
“I thought you knew all about me,” he said. “Then, when you were being such a dick about selling, and sounding more and more annoyed, I was afraid you were going to kick me off before you even got here if I pushed it.”
“I wouldn’t kick you off. Never.”
Dakota wanted to believe that. He really did. Oh, he believed that right now Bryce had no intentions of kicking him out. But life had a way of not giving a shit about people’s intentions.
Incredibly, Bryce laughed.
“What?” Dakota asked. What could possibly be so funny?
“I feel like Mr. Collins.”
Dakota stared at him. What the hell was he talking about?
“From Pride and Prejudice?” Bryce continued. “The guy is going to inherit Longbourn, so one of the daughters has to marry him so they don’t get kicked out when their father dies.”
Wasn’t that an unexpected bit of knowledge? “Yeah. I’ve read the book. A few times. I’m just surprised you have. And enough to reference it.”
Bryce blushed. Now that he was clean-shaven, Dakota could see that his blush went from the top of his cheekbones to his jawline. It was even more adorable.
“I didn’t read it,” Bryce admitted. “I watched the TV series with my sisters and my mom.”
“The BBC show with Colin Firth?”
“Yes. He was so good. What a
great character. He’s such a good actor. I think I’ve seen all his movies.”
“Uh huh. Great actor. That’s why you liked him.” Dakota raised one eyebrow. “Did you – did your sisters like that scene where he comes out of the lake?”
Dakota watched Bryce, seeing exactly when he remembered the scene. His eyes widened in a way that would have been comical any other time. Maybe they could laugh about it one day.
“Look,” Dakota said. “I believe you that you don’t want to kick me off now. But, admit it, you might have. Before.”
Bryce shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t. I’m not a monster,” he said adamantly.
Peterson interrupted them with a pointed look. “Dakota, as I’ve told you more than once, even in this very old will, which is all I have to go on, Tommy made arrangements for your family to be able to live on and work on the land as long as they wanted.”
“But is that really enforceable?” Dakota asked. “Let’s be real. What’s to stop Bryce and his mother from changing his mind and deciding he needs the extra land? Or deciding he hates the place, hates Colorado, and selling all the land to developers right from under me?”
“I won’t,” Bryce said.
“You don’t know that. You haven’t even seen the damn place yet. You’ve been in Colorado what, two days? I know you want the house, the dog, the 3.2 kids, but I don’t know if you’re going to want it here, and you can’t know that either. You can’t promise me that you won’t leave!” Dakota’s voice had risen with every word, and his unexpected rant ended in a shout.
Bryce stared at him like he’d lost his mind. Dakota kind of felt as if he had. He’d been feeling lost, battered, and alone since Tommy had died two months ago.
“You’re right,” Bryce said. “I can’t promise that. No one can predict the future. But I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“You going to run an apple orchard somehow? You can’t even -” Dakota stopped himself, shaking his head.
“Can’t even change a tire?” Bryce finished for him.
Dakota spread his hands in a well? gesture.
“You’re right. I can’t. But my sister is the finance person in the family. Between talking with Mr. Peterson and doing some research, it seems like I can find an orchard manager to run the orchard for me while I learn the business.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into, city boy,” Dakota repeated.
“No. I don’t. But I’m not an idiot, despite your first impression of me. I want this, I want to do this for myself and for my family. I take care of them. It’s my job. I’m not going to stop now.”
The look he gave Dakota seemed to say I can take care of you.
“Can’t you find another place?”
The lawyer frowned and tapped his pen against the desk. “Dakota, I’m saying this as your friend now, not your lawyer. Even if you could somehow get a mortgage on the house and a business loan, which given your complete lack of collateral and your lack income that isn’t dependent on land you don’t own is a longshot at best, you don’t have the cash to run the orchard.”
Peterson turned to Bryce. “You’ve seen the books, right? The orchard has been running at a loss for the last few years. Not a huge one, and there is potential for it to turn around. But there will have to be substantial investments in capital upgrades and employees.”
“I know,” Bryce said. “I have money. I want to try and make it work.”
“Must be nice to be able to throw money at problems and make them go away,” Dakota muttered.
“You said that before. And you’re right. It doesn’t suck. Why are you fighting me on this?”
Dakota wanted to believe him. He wanted to let the burden pass from him to Bryce. Bryce could handle it, mentally and financially. Dakota could just keep doing what he was doing. He was so tired of trying to do it all on his own.
The first year after his parents died, Dakota had barely done anything but lie in bed and wish he had died with them. If it hadn’t been for his parents’ friends taking turns helping him out, the farm would have failed completely. He owed them a debt he could never repay. That was part of the reason he avoided them.
“I can’t take advantage of you like that. I’ll pay rent until we figure out if you’re going to keep the place.” Dakota wouldn’t meet Bryce’s eyes.
Bryce sighed. “What do you want from me? I barely know what’s going on. You think you could give me a couple of weeks to get my head around some shit before you start hating me?”
He sounded so tired, and Dakota hated everything about the situation. But all Dakota’s railing at an unfeeling universe had never yielded results or satisfaction, and some small, angry part inside of him wanted Bryce to feel as badly as he did. That was the part that said “Oh, I hated you long before yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Bryce said with an eye roll. “I could sense the hate yesterday.” He left when you blew me unsaid but Dakota heard it anyway.
“I didn’t know who you were yesterday!” Dakota blushed and looked away. Then his eyes darted back and dropped to Bryce’s lips.
Bryce turned to Mr. Washburn. “What can I do to make sure Dakota doesn’t get kicked off the land? Can I sell it to him for a dollar or something?”
Dakota looked startled. “What?”
“This arrangement worked out between your family and Tommy for how long?”
“Twenty years.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“So you have more claim to that land than I do. Missing will or not. Let’s just settle it legally. I’ll sell you the farm, for the cheapest we can get away with. And then we can make some sort of long-term plan and you help me fix the orchard. How does that sound?”
How did it sound? It sounded like a fucking miracle. Like the answer to all his prayer. It sounded like something he couldn’t have. Not trusting himself to speak, he shook his head and paced around the room. He felt Bryce’s eyes on his the whole time.
Finally, he stopped pacing. “You haven’t even seen the place yet.”
Bryce smiled as if he’d won the argument. He stood up. “Well, let’s go fix that then.”
Chapter Fifteen
BRYCE
Bryce followed Dakota’s pickup truck up the bumpy dirt driveway. Two brown dogs ran next to the truck, barking wildly the entire way. Were they his dogs now? No. That was ridiculous. Even if they had belonged to his unknown great-uncle, they obviously would be Dakota’s dogs. He wondered if his mom would want a dog.
The Chicago condo she lived in didn’t allow dogs. She’d moved back to the city after the twins graduated high school. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d bought the big house in Evanston for her after he’d signed his first multimillion dollar paycheck.
He’d been eighteen years old, and he thought he would burst with joy at finally being able to start paying his mom and siblings back for all the sacrifices they’d made for his dreams.
The cozy, ramshackle house they passed must belong to Dakota. Fallow fields stretched out behind it, and a few brown leaves clung to the gnarled and twisted branches of the tall trees in the yard.
Bryce drove up a small rise and around a curve, past a thicket of some kind of bushes. As he cleared the top of the rise, and the big house he had only seen in pictures came into view. His breath caught in his throat. It was perfect.
Rows of apple trees stretched out behind the large white farmhouse. A wide screened-in porch fronted two sides of the house and dark green shutters flanked the wide windows. There was even a rooster-topped weather vane on the top of the roof.
Bryce could already see imaginary Christmas lights twinkling from the trim and his future children playing football on the lawn. This wasn’t just a house, it was a home.
And it was all his if he wanted it. He could retire, move here, and figure out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.
There was so much space in the house and the orchard. He didn’t need to own Dakota’s house a
nd land on top of it. He wouldn’t even miss it. Why wouldn’t Bryce sell him his land for as low as he legally could? Heck, he’d let Dakota stay rent-free as long as he wanted.
Dakota stopped his truck at the side of the house, and Bryce pulled up next to him. The brindle dogs ran in circles around both vehicles. One jumped up at Bryce’s door, and he flinched at the sound of nails scraping on the paint of his loaner car. Hopefully, that wouldn’t cost him.
Bryce whistled under his breath as he stepped out of the Camry. Groaning, he stretched his back out. Most cars were a tight fit for him. It would be nice to get his truck back. Could he call it a truck? It wasn’t a car. Technically, it was an SUV, but that didn’t sound as cool as truck.
If he lived in the country, he could get a real truck. Deep in his heart, he’d always loved the way they looked, but he could never justify buying one.
The other dog jumped into the Dakota’s truck’s bed and started nosing around.
Now Dakota drove a real truck, a dirty light-blue Ford pickup. Bryce knew it was a Ford because it said FORD in giant letters across the tailgate. The bed held hay and tools and tarps in the back. It was a working man’s truck, and Bryce found it almost as sexy as the motorcycle.
“Hey, buddy,” Bryce laughed as the dog darted over for a quick pet then bounded over to Dakota. Bryce followed it over to the truck, waiting almost as impatiently as the dogs for Dakota to get out.
Bryce pounced on him when he finally did. “I can’t believe I dropped you off here last night,” Bryce said incredulously. “We drove right by it.” He’d been so close, and he hadn’t even known it.
“Technically, I drove,” Dakota said, voice flat. “But, yeah.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground.
The silence between them was awkward for the first time.
“I like your dogs,” Bryce said, searching for something to say. “What kind of dogs are they?”
Dakota reached down and scratched one of them behind the ears. The other leaned against Bryce looking for some attention. “Devil dogs. As you can see, they’re terrible guard dogs. This one is Beezy, short for Beelzebub. The one lovin’ all over you is Lu, short for Lucifer. Their job is to keep the deer out of the orchard and they suck at it. What they are good at is barking, chasing raccoons, and sleeping on the furniture.”
