by J. D. Light
"Me too," Cutter said, and I looked across the table to see the same look on his face.
The café door opened, but I was too busy frowning at my friend to look, but Jefferson stiffening beside me had my head swiveling in his direction before darting to the door, he was staring, his eyes wide.
Ray Wilkins. Of fucking course.
I tried not to sneer when he started in our direction, especially when I saw Jefferson look down out of the corner of my eye. His cowboy hat was sitting on the table, and I would have bet anything if he could get his hands on it without drawing attention to himself, he would have snagged it and put it on his head, so he could hide.
"What do you know, Byrum?" Ray said as he walked up, his normal greeting. "I was wondering if I was going to get to buy you a beer while I was in town."
"Ray," I said in greeting, and there was flicker of confusion on his face as he took in my rather cold tone. "How are you?"
Jefferson turned his head slightly to look up at me, and I brought my arm down from behind him and reached over under the table and patted his thigh, giving it a little squeeze.
"I'm great," Ray said, a little more hesitantly than he'd originally greeted. "I don't know if you ever met my son Martin, but he's back home. He's around here somewhere. Both my boys are, actually."
I could practically feel Jefferson pulling further into himself, the longer Ray stood there, and I desperately wanted to get the old guy out of there, so I could comfort Jefferson. "I don't know that I've met your boys, but I've heard about them."
My tone was less cold, but still dry. I was too busy paying attention to the way Jefferson's thigh seemed to be getting more and more tense.
"Oh, yeah?" Ray asked, turning to give first Cutter and then Sam nods, before turning his attention back across the table. "Good, goo… Jefferson?"
Jefferson sighed, but he lifted his head, putting that nose in the air and making me fucking proud as he looked at his old boss. His voice steady as when he spoke. "Hi, Ray."
"What the hell are you doing here?" The man demanded, clearly angry, but Jefferson didn't even flinch.
"He works here," I told Ray, leaning into his line of sight. "For me."
"Do you know what the hell he did?" Ray pointed at the sweet man next to me, leaning forward on the table, his hand getting a little too close. "He's a fucking predator."
I smacked his hand away, already starting to stand when Jefferson grabbed the back of my pants and pulled me back down into the seat. "No, Byrum. It's fine."
I settled back in my seat, but Ray had already taken several steps back, clearly realizing how close he'd come to seeing me lose it. It didn’t happen very often, but unfortunately, when it did, it really did.
"Ray, I know exactly what happened when he was at your ranch, and how bad you treated him after he worked for you for three years," I growled, unconsciously reaching over and grabbing Jefferson's hand and pulling it into my lap.
"Then you know what he did to my son," Ray said indignantly, looking around the table for support. "He shouldn't be working for you. He should be sitting in jail somewhere."
"Jefferson?" Someone said, softly and when I looked on the other side of Ray, two men had walked up beside him, one looking surprised and maybe a bit nervous, and the other throwing a hand over his heart in relief.
"Thank God," the second one said, stepping around Ray. "I was so worried about you. I tried calling you, but your phone was shut off."
"It was the ranch's phone," Jefferson said, with a nod. "I didn't take it with me. I'm sure it was cut off before I even made it out of the state."
"As it should have been. I never should have let you leave," Ray growled, glaring down at the man next to me. "I should have taken you to town and let them beat the pervert out of you."
I started to rise again, and Cutter and Sam didn't look far behind me, but Jefferson leaned forward, pressing his hand to my chest and throwing one up at the other side of the booth before turning and giving Ray a condescending look. "Yes, Ray, because I was the one that pursued him. Did he happen to tell you why he was back?"
"Shut up, Jefferson," the nervous one said, and I was willing to bet that was the asshole, Martin.
"I'm sorry, do you actually think you have a right to talk to him like that?" I asked the man menacingly. "After all, you are the one who assaulted him. If anyone should be in jail right now, it's you. But from what I understand about your little loan situation, you're probably going to end up dead and buried in a desert or something before that happens."
Martin's head snapped around to his brother, and he glowered. "You fucking told him, didn't you? Some little brother you are."
The little brother rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I told him, because I was hoping he'd stay away from you. If things wouldn't have gone down the way they did, he'd end up like the rest of us once the people who you owe money to come knocking."
Ray gasped, turning to look at Martin in surprise.
"That's not going to happen," the man said, raising his hands and shaking his head. "I have everything under control."
Ray blinked for several long moments before he shook his head, closing his eyes. "What are you talking about? Who do you owe money to, Martin?"
"It's nothing, Dad. Don't worry about it." His voice was calm as he spoke to his father, but his expression was pure rage when he turned to look at Branson, pointing a finger in his direction. "You though, you should definitely worry about it."
"What are you going to do?" Branson asked, rolling his eyes. "Beat me up? You're not so much my big brother anymore, are you?"
And he definitely wasn't. Little brother had outgrown big brother by about six inches and at least sixty pounds of muscle. In fact, Branson was just plain huge.
"I don't give a fuck how big you are now," Martin said, glaring at his brother. "You told Jefferson my fucking business. You chose him over me."
"Yeah, because Jefferson is a good guy and he didn't deserve to be dragged into a relationship with a shithead like you. Do you realize how fucking dangerous it is for your family and anyone you get involved with after what you've done? You're bringing all that shit on all of us. Jefferson didn't need to be caught up in that."
"That's enough," Luther growled as he approached the table. "What the hell is going on here?" he looked at Ray and the brothers, glaring. "Are you guys planning on sitting down and eating, or do I need to show you outside? This is a busy place with kids running around. I don't need you throwing that kind of language around or taking up floor space. Find a seat and order food or get out."
Luther wasn't as tall as Branson, or as wide either… probably, but something about his presence seemed almost dangerous.
"Whew!" Justice said, fanning himself, and stepping closer to Luther. "I think I just had an orgasm."
The café's owner rolled his eyes, gripping Justice by his hips and spinning him around toward the back, giving him a little shove. "There's an order up. I've been hollering for three minutes. Get your ass back to work."
Justice pouted over his shoulder, waiting for Luther to turn around before winking at us and sauntering off to the counter.
"Let's go, Dad," Martin said, apparently smart enough to at least heed Luther's warning. "Branson, I don't really give a fuck about you. You aren't my brother anymore, so you can just forget you know me."
Branson shrugged, meeting his brother's eyes with cold emotionless ones of his own. "Good, maybe you disowning me will actually keep me alive when they come for their money. He turned to his father, "Dad?" I found it incredibly sad that he had to even question whether or not his dad would agree with his brother.
Ray had a serious case of blinders on for his oldest son.
"I don't know what's going on," he said quietly, frowning as he looked back and forth between the two boys, the lines on his face standing out. "Clearly, we all need to have a little chat."
They all turned to leave, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for Branson. I got the i
mpression the guy had spent his whole life unable to live up to a brother that was only ever out to take care of himself.
"Branson," Jefferson called out, just before he reached the door. He turned, raising his eyebrows in question, a small, sad smile on his face. "Thank you for worrying about me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in the beginning."
He nodded, and then shrugged. "I'm used to it. I don't know what it is about him, but people tend to trust him when he's probably one of the least trustworthy people I know. I'll see you around, Jefferson, and congratulations on your man there. He seems like a good one."
My heart sank a little when he walked through that door. He really was a good person, but as long as he stayed around his family, he'd always feel… inferior.
"Well," Jefferson said softly, running his hand over the still-tense muscles in my back. "That could have gone worse. At least he didn't out me to the entire town… though by the way the whole room sounds like a giant whisper, I'm sure it will be around by nighttime."
I cringed, nodding. "Unfortunately, that is the one thing we never managed to outgrow in this town. Gossip is very prevalent." I looked around, noticing how many of the patrons were still watching our table, noting that though most of the faces were curious, they weren't unfriendly. "Are you going to be okay with everyone knowing?"
Luther leaned around me gripping Jefferson's shoulder and giving him a small smile before wandering off into the back.
"Well," Jefferson said with a small laugh, before swallowing hard and waving at a little old lady when she stopped by our table, sending him a wink. "I was planning to come out in a little better way than all that, but I'd pretty much made up my mind that I was going to stop hiding."
He'd come so fucking far, it was hard not to admire him and be proud. I leaned in, not close enough to cause a scandal, but I definitely needed to be able to look into his pretty eyes and enjoy the spark of excitement flaring to life there.
"What were you planning?" I asked, clutching my hand at my side so I didn't reach up and run my finger over the side of his face.
He smiled, blushing. "I was going to make sure it was okay with a certain someone if I held his hand while we were walking around town."
I smiled, my face nearly feeling like it was splitting in half as I watched him. I opened my mouth to tell him I'd do anything he wanted, any time, Cutter cleared his throat, getting our attention.
"Sure, Jefferson. I'll hold your hand," Cutter said, ducking behind Sam a little when I scooped up a butter and threw it at him.
"Hmm," I said when I turned back to Jefferson before sliding out of the booth and holding out my hand. "Let's see what we can do."
"But we haven't eaten yet," Jefferson said, looking around nervously, even as he put his hand in mine and let me pull him up.
"We'll be back, but if the gossip mill is going to be spinning, we might as well get out ahead of it as much as we can."
He took a deep breath, nodding, and I flipped my hand over, letting him slide his fingers between mine.
I took and deep breath too. I'd never really thought it was necessary for me to come out. I had always been too busy to worry about dating. There weren't many people who understood how much time a person put into ranching, so it was hard to date if that was the profession you chose.
I had always been fairly content with the way my life was going, so I'd never really wanted to add the stress of dating to the mix. I'd watched far too many of my friends succumb, and I'd also watched almost all of those friends leave the ranching business. It was just easier to stay single.
But with Jefferson, I never had to worry about him not understanding why I chose the life I did, because he chose it too. We didn't get weekends off, and when calving season came along, there was always endless drama with first-time moms, and checking on new babies who never failed to come into the world when it was the coldest day of the fucking year. There was weighing and tagging and all that had to be done when they were still fairly new so they couldn't outrun you. But he understood all of it and would be right there with me.
Of course, that also meant that I had to come out as well. I knew it wasn't going to be as big a deal for me, because I hadn't been living in the same type of environment he had been, and I had faith in the people of my town, but it still wasn't easy. It was inviting people into a piece of my life I'd only invited a few into in the past.
We were both a bit nervy as we stepped outside of the diner, his fingers laced in mine. My thumb ran against his knuckles nervously, and it almost seemed too fucking bright outside for October.
"Wow, the town's really busy today," Jefferson said, sounding like he was ready to bolt.
I pulled him to a stop, forcing him to face me. I was proud of him. He'd come so fucking far, but I didn't want him to do this if he wasn't ready. People and their gossip could be ignored if necessary. "You sure you want to do this?"
Squeezing my fingers in his, he pulled my hand up to kiss my knuckles softly. "I think I am, yes."
Several people stared as we passed, walking down one side of Main Street, and then crossing and walking down the other, but after the moment of shock wore off, most either gave us a small smile or a friendly nod, and life in Haven Hills resumed business as usual.
"Wow," Jefferson said, turning to look at me when we'd almost made it back to the café with moisture in his eyes. "This is both terrifying and really, really nice."
It was. I could see myself walking through town when we had our big Christmas lights parade, holding his hand and enjoying a hot chocolate, or sitting on the bench just in front of the city hall, with my arm around his shoulders as he leaned into my side.
Instead of leading him directly to the café door, I tugged him along to the giant fountain that sat in the middle of the tiny square shared by the café, a barber, a little insurance agency and tanning salon and then I climbed up on the little concrete wall that surrounded it, beckoning him to join me with a few gentle pulls.
"If this isn't okay with you, stop me, okay?" I said as I turned to face him. He blinked in confusion until I stepped into his space, and then he gasped, but he didn't pull away. Giving him plenty of time, I moved my mouth closer to his very, very slowly. I smiled against his lips when they met, and we shared a sweet peck, that we both lingered on a bit longer than was normal as we enjoyed our newfound freedom.
"Byrum Rodgers." Nancy's stern voice had us pulling apart, and I groaned wondering if Nancy just made it her damn business to run around ruining moments for me.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I grumbled quietly, turning to give the woman a smile I didn't mean at the moment. "Hi, Nancy."
"There are kids watching you," she said, putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows like she was disappointed in me. "You're supposed to be an example to them."
I blinked in surprise, having thought she would be one of my supporters for sure. Jefferson's arms tightened around me, reminding me that I couldn't allow her to make him feel bad. She could say what she wanted to me, but I wouldn't let her hurt Jefferson. "I… I'm not doing anything wrong." I thrust my chin in the air.
"Don't you put your nose in the air at me," she said sternly, pointing a finger at me. "You two get off of that fountain like that. You're going to fall in and break your damn necks, and all these dumb kids are going to follow suit. Use a bench to make out like you have some sense." She spun, marching off, grumbling under her breath. "Standing on an eight-inch ledge, making out. No sense in those pretty heads, I tell you what."
We heard snickering and turned to find the old barber sitting on a bench surrounding the fountain with his lunch. He winked after a moment and went back to eating, and I smiled, leaning my forehead against Jefferson's
"Nobody cares," he said softly. "They don't hate us. They don't hate me."
"I told you they wouldn't. Most of this town was very supportive of Wellston when he came out."
"Of course, they were." He pulled back, rolling his eyes b
efore he turned and hopped down, turning to look at me over his shoulder. "They all knew him all his life. I was just expecting for them to look at me as some kind of outsider, or something."
I jumped down to join him, once again lacing our fingers together. "Now you know better."
***
Thanksgiving
Jefferson changed his shirt for the fifth time, but before he even had the thing buttoned, he let out a frustrated yell-growl and started unbuttoning it again.
I smacked his hands away and did them up again. "What are you so nervous about?"
"Uh, how about the fact that we're going to tell your son and your best friend that we're a couple," he said, trying to reach up and undo the buttons I'd just done, but I smacked his hands again. "What if they think I'm some kind of gold digger or something?" He asked, sounding hysterical.
I smirked, reaching down to undo the buttons of one of his cuffs. "You mean because the only reason you'd date me is because of my money… that I don't actually have that much of."
I rolled one sleeve up and turned to start working on the other.
"Well, I don't know if they know how big your dick is, so I wouldn't worry about it," he snarked, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows when I glanced up at his face.
"Let's not bring that up. I'm pretty sure Wellston would never come home again if we told him that."
I finished rolling his cuffs, and before I could step back, he reached out grabbing my arms. "Seriously though, Byrum. What if they don't like me? Or think I'm not right for you?"
"Listen, I love Wilder, and I love my son––" I started, only to be interrupted.
"I know you do. You always act so exasperated when you talk about them, but your eyes get all soft." His eyes were soft when he said that, and I sighed stupidly.
"Damn, you're sweet." I leaned forward and pressed a lingering peck against his lips. "I wish I had time to take you to our room, but they'll be showing up any minute now, bitching at each other because Wellston has rushed Wilder, and Wilder doesn't understand why it matters if they get here at eleven or eleven fifteen."
