by Jamie Lake
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A grizzly looking man answered. Covered in dust and wood chips, his sandy-blonde hair fell across his shoulders, dusting the ground with shavings. The stench of him burned Casey’s nose, but behind all the hair were the most beautiful, piercing blue eyes Casey had ever seen.
“Who are you?” the man demanded to know, his country drawl booming from behind his thick beard. The voice fit the build too. The man was huge, towering over Casey’s lean five foot, seven inch frame by over half a foot. His shoulders were broad, straining the seams of the flannel shirt he wore.
Casey cleared his throat, taken aback by the beastly man. “I’m Casey. I called about the room for rent and the extra help you advertised. I tried to leave a message on your answering machine but...”
“I cancelled that ad,” the man said, starting to pull the door closed.
“Why?”
“‘Cause ain’t nothing but whack jobs and freeloaders showin’ up.”
Casey shifted back and forth nervously twiddling his thumbs behind his back. “Look, Sir...”
“Hunter, call me Hunter,” the man interrupted impatiently.
“All right, Hunter. I’m a hard worker and as sane as they come,” he answered with a smile.
Hunter looked Casey up and down, then turned around and walked into the house, leaving the door open. Something about what Casey said, as he stood there shivering in the cold like a wet and lost puppy, tugged at Hunter’s heart.
Casey’s feet were firmly planted into the cement steps as he tried to figure out what was happening. Why had Hunter left the door open after basically telling him to get lost? Had he changed his mind?
“You coming or what?” Hunter barked.
Casey followed and wiped his muddy feet on the half-rotted doormat, but soon found it was unnecessary in the murky, dusty, old place.
“Room’s upstairs, kitchen’s over there,” Hunter led him through the dark living room where orange walls and press-on wooden cabinets decorated the space. Mile-high dishes lay piled in the sink. The crusted food still on the plates was only illuminated by the hanging fluorescent lights that showed every pore and dip on Casey’s face. He patted his cheeks, feeling a little flushed.
“Family room there,” Hunter pointed to a small room filled with boxes. “Barn’s in the back.”
Casey swallowed hard. “Like I said, I’m not afraid of a little elbow grease. I’ll help in any way I can.”
Hunter’s eyes ran across Casey’s body. He brushed past Casey, leaving his scent of musk and man between them, as he entered the living room and headed towards the stairs. “Rent’s due first of the month.”
“Um ... so about that,” Casey followed him. “Your ad said the room was about four hundred dollars.”
“Four fifty, plus first and last month’s deposit,” Hunter said.
“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I’m in a little bit of a situation.”
Hunter stopped, mid-step, and faced Casey. Casey noticed every muscle and ripple beneath Hunter’s shirt. If Hunter wanted it to, this could end very badly for Casey. He remembered all too well what the boys built like that had done to him in high school. His hand automatically reached for his left arm, as if he could still feel the pain from when Kyle Nissan had broken it by knocking him off the back of the bleachers. He took a step back.
“Situation?” Hunter repeated.
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but I was hoping we could do more of a trade. I mean, I help you more out with the house than you mentioned in the ad and ... and you let me...”
“Are you on drugs?” Hunter asked.
Casey wasn’t sure if the question was a serious one or not, but he answered as if it was. “Of course not.”
“The ad said four hundred and fifty bucks,” Hunter repeated. “Four fifty is four fifty. Period.”
“Please,” Casey sighed, his sad eyes pleading as he grabbed Hunter by the arm: a dangerous move, he knew, but he was desperate. “Got kicked out last night. I spent the last of what I had on gas to get out here.”
Hunter bit his bottom lip and met Casey’s eyes. The air was silent, except for Casey’s pounding heart.
Hunter rubbed his beard. There was something about Casey’s eyes that softened Hunter. “Must be something we can figure out.”
The pause lasted just long enough to make Casey wonder exactly what that could be.
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 6
The night was short and quiet as Casey settled into his new life in the bare bedroom with the dinky twin bed in the old farmhouse. Cracks and spider webs covered the walls and corners, but in some way, Casey found it comforting. He could clean it up tomorrow.
“Just for a month; just ‘til you get on your feet,” Hunter added, before closing the door and heading back downstairs.
He spent the hours wondering how long before Hunter would call him into the bedroom for a sexual exchange. Although Hunter didn’t strike him in the least bit as gay, Casey had known plenty of men who’d said they were straight but hadn’t passed up a blow job from him. He’d been told more than once that, in the dark, all mouths were the same. Usually, Casey despised men like that, but with Hunter, he didn’t think he would’ve minded. A far cry from McDermott, Hunter was primitive and manly in a way that Casey would have loved to fall into love with him. There was just something about that scruffy beard and muscular bulk that made Casey think of power and strength, the kind that could overwhelm if allowed. Hunter exuded masculinity, and Casey just wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket. He let those thoughts carry him into sleep.
Casey began the next morning on all fours, scrubbing under the kitchen cabinet. His back arched, the sweat meandering its way from his sweat-soaked t-shirt to the crack of his bubble butt as he slipped in and out of the cabinet. Under all of the grime, he actually found beautifully crafted walnut cabinets and a stainless steel oven. It was the kind of kitchen in which he’d always dreamed of cooking: meals, snacks, muffins. Mmm…blueberry muffins. His stomach growled as his mind drifted to thoughts of coffee and muffins, but working off the rent came first, and he was more than grateful and willing to do whatever was necessary to keep Hunter happy and keep a roof over his head.
Hunter cleared his throat as he approached. “Uh, mornin’.”
“Oh,” Casey said, sticking his head out from under the cabinet, “Good morning.”
“What’s this?” Hunter asked, crossing his thick arms across his chest.
Casey got off his dirt-covered knees and smiled nervously. There was something commanding about Hunter that intimidated him. He dusted his shirt and pants off and stood before him, his bare toes wiggling on the cool tile floor. His shoes were still wet from two days’ worth of rain.
“This? It’s called a clean house.” Casey joked. He thought he saw a glimmer of a smile in Hunter’s striking blue eyes. “Might take a while, but it’s coming along.”
Hunter grunted, grabbed his cowboy hat and a paper bag from the fridge, and he headed towards the back door, mumbling, “Need you in the barn.” He glanced down at Casey’s feet. “Get some shoes on.”
The barn? Casey wondered. Whatever needed done, it couldn’t possibly be as filthy as what Casey had already cleaned inside the house. The upstairs bathroom had nearly made Casey gag, so there was no way what was in the barn could be worse.
Or could it?
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 7
“You want me to do what?” Casey asked, looking at the massive beast in front of him.
“Mount,” Hunter said, draping the tan saddle over a horse that must have been at least five hundred pounds of muscle and its teeth big enough to bite through human flesh.
“O ... K...,” Casey said, clueless as to how to do it. He’d never even been in a barn before, and now he was supposed to climb on this mountain of horse flesh? A breeze blew through the building, carrying the scent of the hay and animals, different than anything he’
d smelled before. Not really bad, but different. There was no tang of exhaust or the almost sickly-sweet smell of dozens of restaurants all cooking their own unique meals. He took a tentative step towards the horse and it snorted, making him jump back.
Hunter brushed the locks from his eyes and cracked a smile. “Dollie ain’t gonna bite.”
Casey wasn’t too sure of that. Dollie looked as if she’d like nothing more than to tear off a hunk of flesh.
Hunter pulled another horse out from the stall and climbed on like it was nothing. “Come on.”
His horse was jet black and massive, making Casey’s horse look like a miniature version. It was clear Hunter took great care of them. Their coats were silky, their manes brushed out, their gums pink and healthy. Dollie was a pale gray, a beautiful color, really. You know, if she hadn’t been a death-trap.
Casey swallowed. He’d read somewhere that horses could kick a person so hard in the stomach that they could kill. That, plus the wind having picked up, the whole situation was making both he and his horse nervous. He didn’t know anything about horses, but even he could see that Dollie was picking up on his tension. He just didn’t think there was anything he could do about it. There was no way he’d be able to get anywhere close to relaxed.
“You want a pony?” Hunter smirked, dismounting and grabbing hold of the foot strap. “Come on. I’ll help ya.”
Casey obeyed.
Hunter crouched down to rub the horse’s legs and looked up at Casey from his tilted cowboy hat, nothing but his blue eyes showing. His heart skipped a beat, or twelve.
“Do it,” he instructed, “Spread your legs.”
He wished Hunter was talking about something else by how hot he looked, but did what he was told anyway.
“Mount from the left, get off from the right,” he said.
His strong hand spanked Casey’s thigh, then traced from the horse’s neck to her mouth. “Good boy.”
Electricity shot up Casey’s body. The feel of a man slapping his side turned him on more than he thought it would, but he ignored it. It’d been months since he and McDermott had had sex, and even with the heartache, there was a part of him that just wanted to get fucked; to lose himself in passionate, mind-numbing, sweat-dripping sex under the control of a powerful and brooding man like Hunter.
“But I don’t know how,” Casey managed to say. His body and mind were both a tangle of emotion and varying degrees of frustration. He was wound so tightly he was afraid he’d explode before the day was done.
Then Hunter mounted his horse and flashed him a smile with a wink. “Just do what you’re told. And you’ll be fine.”
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 8
It wasn’t just the wind that carried him, but the bumps along the trail. Casey wiped sweat from his brow and looked over the expanse. It was gorgeous. The never ending hills of grass led to a rustling creek below. The waves splashed against the rocks, making the surroundings even more serene. While the air was still chilly, the sun was warm, shining down brightly from a clear blue sky. It was like nothing Casey had seen in the city.
Hunter was right. The horse knew what it was doing as she followed Hunter’s lead.
“She dumped ya, didn’t she?” Hunter asked.
“Huh?” Casey asked.
Casey didn’t know how to explain. And he wasn’t about to out himself. He couldn’t afford to get kicked out of another house for being gay. Yet he was tired of lying to the world about who he was and fed up with feeling ashamed.
“Oh, that,” Casey said, not looking at him.
“Me too,” Hunter said, biting his inner cheek so hard it nearly bled. He could almost taste it. He regretted saying it almost as soon as the words left his mouth. He never talked about her.
“Yeah?” Casey asked, surprised by Hunter’s blunt confession.
“Yep.” He smacked his lips together to signal the horse to move. “Hurts like a bitch.”
Before Casey could ask more, Hunter dug his boot onto the horse’s side to push them onward. He led them down a steep trail, covered in rocky tundra and terrain. The wind howled.
“Shit,” Casey said, pulling back on the reins.
“Just stay on the horse,” Hunter teased.
“I’m trying.”
Hunter chuckled as he and his horse led them into a more level area.
“See that creek over there?” Hunter asked.
Casey squinted through the chilly air. “There?”
“Yeah, race you to it.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Maybe just a little,” Hunter smirked. He tossed his hair back and guided his horse toward the water. “Just hold on.”
Before Casey could protest, Hunter slapped Dollie so hard on the rump that the horse took off. He held on tight, white-knuckled and short of breath with his eyes pinned shut. “Jesus, Mary, Mother of God, please don’t let me fall off!”
As he slowly cracked open his eyes, the wind rushing against his cheeks began to relax him. He let himself feel the air and the warmth of the sun, focused on that rather than the fear that wanted to creep in, and the enjoyment began to seep through his veins. He’d never known how many thigh muscles it took to stay on a horse. It burned a slow and fiery sensation all the way down his legs, but at the same time, he liked it. Just when he was really starting to enjoy himself, the horses slowed at the base of the creek.
It was breathtaking, like something out of a movie: one of those old ones that Casey loved. He preferred the ones with the classy guys like Cary Grant and down-to-earth guys like Jimmy Stewart, but he’d seen his fair share of old Westerns too. There was something to be said for cowboys. And this scene looked like something out of one of those Westerns, so much so that Casey half expected to see John Wayne ride around the bend. The creek was gurgling, just like it was supposed to, and the sound mixed with the other nature sounds: frogs and birds and insects.
This was everything Casey had always dreamed that a life in the country would be like.
Hunter turned his horse around and laughed at Casey.
“Nearly broke my neck,” Casey said.
“But you didn’t. You have fun?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
Hunter jerked his chin towards the view. “Looks like somethin’ outta an old Western, don’t it?”
Casey stared. “I-I was just thinking that.”
Hunter grinned, his eyes sparkling. “A fan of the Duke’s. We’re gonna get along just fine.” He patted his horse’s neck. “Let’s get off.”
Casey swallowed. Hard. Surely he hadn’t heard Hunter correctly.
Or had he?
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 9
It took a moment before Casey realized what Hunter had actually meant was to get off—the horse. Even though it was a waste of time crushing on a straight guy, and he didn’t need the drama, Casey was still a little disappointed.
Hunter tied his horse to a nearby tree and leaned over the creek for a drink. The waters splashed all over his face. Casey caught a glimpse of Hunter’s tight ass and bulging thighs fitted in those skin-tight denims, and nearly fell over from the sight of it. Why’d he have to be so hot?
“‘s hot, ain’t it?”
“What?” Casey jumped, suddenly certain that Hunter had read his mind.
“The sun.” Hunter gestured. “Air’s a bit chilly, but the sun’s hot.”
Before Casey could respond, Hunter did the last thing Casey had expected. He pulled off his shirt and stuck it in the creek. Casey let out a squeak that he hoped Hunter couldn’t hear. For as hairy as Hunter’s face was, his chest was smooth enough for his tattoos to stand out. All of them. Casey had noticed the one on the inside of Hunter’s arm, but now he saw that there were two Chinese characters on Hunter’s chest, just over his heart, and a design of some kind directly under Hunter’s belly button. If he’d studied it, Casey was sure he could’ve figured out what it was, but that would’v
e meant staring just above Hunter’s belt buckle, and he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what lay south of it.
“Thirsty?” Hunter asked, filling his canteen.
“Is it safe?” Casey blurted out the question before he’d really thought about it.
Hunter chuckled. “Sure, except for the nuclear spill up the hill.”
Casey wasn’t sure if Hunter was joking or not. He was so hard to read.
“You’re so serious.” Hunter said.
Casey sighed. He knew Hunter was right. He needed to lighten up. “Sorry,” he apologized.
“You are who you are. No need to apologize,” Hunter said. “Hungry? Packed us lunch.” He sat on a large boulder, leaving room for Casey to join.
“Sure, so long as it’s not nuclear,” Casey teased.
Hunter flashed a smile and tossed him a sandwich, which he almost dropped. He never was all that great at sports. His face grew hot and flushed.
“So, what do those mean?” Casey gestured at the Chinese characters.
Hunter’s face froze, something dark passing over his eyes. Casey instantly knew that he’d crossed a line.
He backpedaled. “So sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s alright.” Hunter’s tone didn’t sound like it was alright, but he sat down next to Casey, so it couldn’t have been too bad. “Just personal ‘s all.”
“Of course,” Casey agreed. An uncomfortable silence fell for several minutes. “Beautiful day,” Casey said, to distract from his embarrassment.
“Yep,” Hunter answered.
Well that wasn’t going to work. He had to think of something else. Casey bit into his sandwich and tried not to grimace. Bologna with cheap mustard. He’d seen the travesty that Hunter called a pantry. Not that it was empty. It was just full of the kind of food Casey wouldn’t have touched under any other circumstances. He needed to see if Hunter would let him cook. In the back of his mind, he heard McDermott telling him that his food wasn’t really that good. He pushed the thought back. Anything was better than this. Still, he kept eating. He was surprisingly hungry and that made the sandwich palatable. He swallowed, dabbed at his mouth and asked, “So, how long have you had this place?”
