Hard Ride (Clean Slate Ranch)

by A. M. Arthur

  Besides, Derrick rented one of four apartments converted from an old, two-story house that had a single interior foyer which was treated like a common room, so Slater wouldn’t be alone all day, every day, unless he chose to be. Derrick wasn’t looking forward to the lying aspect of this plan, but it would be nice to have someone else around to have dinner with and shit. Cohabiting wasn’t dating, wasn’t trusting with his heart, and wouldn’t shatter his trust by repeatedly cheating on him.

  Even if Slater hooked up while he was living with Derrick, it wasn’t cheating at all, because they weren’t a couple.

  “Let’s say I’m crazy enough to agree to this insane plan of yours,” Slater finally said. “Are you really going to lie to your brother and parents about us being fake boyfriends?”

  “I don’t know. Me and Conrad are pretty close, and we have a hard time lying to each other. If he’s around us for any period of time, he’ll probably figure it out.” Unless his brother saw their underlying chemistry and assumed it was real. Slater was very tight-lipped about himself but he’d also let a few things slip around Derrick. Derrick didn’t want a relationship right now but he also wasn’t opposed to exploring that chemistry down the road—as long as Slater was up for it, too.

  “And your parents?” Slater’s questions seemed more curious than accusatory, as if testing for all potential future issues.

  “My mother will love you for simply having broken through my inability to trust.”

  Now why had he gone and admitted to that?

  Slater squinted at him. “You have trust issues?”

  Derrick didn’t like talking about his two worst mistakes, but he could give Slater a little bit. “I’ve been cheated on in the past by people I thought I loved and who I thought loved me. They weren’t honest with me about who they were and what they wanted from me. It’s why I figured single is better and stick to hookups. You?”

  “Similar story, I guess. So I get it. The hard-to-trust part. Makes it hard to believe all you want is a fake boyfriend for five weddings, nothing else on the line.”

  “I mean, there might be a family dinner now and again...”

  Slater rolled his eyes. “What the hell do we tell people about how we met?”

  Derrick didn’t dare hope he’d won Slater over to this plan but so far, so good. “The truth. We hooked up the night of the double wedding, realized we had chemistry, and we’ve been texting-slash-calling ever since. No one’s gonna demand to see phone records proving it.”

  “If we’re dating, how come it took you...a lot of days to come see me?”

  He didn’t miss the slight slip in Slater’s recollection. “My work schedule, and us being a secret, meant I didn’t want to be a bother, but then I couldn’t stand it another day without making sure you were okay with my own eyes.” Which was true enough that it wasn’t a lie. He had been concerned about Slater. A lot. “I mean, if you really want to sell it, I can kiss you the next time someone walks into the room.”

  Some of the curious amusement in Slater’s eyes dimmed. “I don’t kiss.”

  “At all? Or just the mouth?”

  “Mouth.” Humor bled back into Slater’s expression. “I guess cheek pecks are okay. From my boyfriend.”

  “Yeah?”

  Slater let out a long, slow breath. “Maybe yes but I have questions.”

  “Okay.” Derrick would answer anything if it meant having a permanent date to get him through wedding season. And someone to talk to over a takeout dinner wouldn’t hurt, either.

  “Do you have in-home laundry?”

  Of all the questions Derrick had expected that wasn’t it. “Yup. It’s a small, stacked set, but it’s in the apartment. What else?”

  “Who’s sleeping on the futon?”

  “The bed is plenty big enough for two.” Derrick wasn’t sure how to interpret Slater’s expression, so he treaded with caution. “But seeing as you’re the guy with the busted ankle, I guess I can suffer the futon for a few months.”

  “I don’t cook.”

  “Neither do I. I subsist on takeout, delivery and frozen food. I’m not much of a housekeeper, but the place isn’t a mess.” A white-and-black terror zipped through his mind. “I should warn you about Lucky, though.”

  “Who’s Lucky? A neighbor?”

  “Sort of. Lucky is a stray cat who kind of...bums her way from apartment to apartment. She’ll scooch in your door when you don’t realize it, meow in your face at three in the morning and sometimes chew on your sneakers. She is, strangely, toilet trained, so you never have to worry about cat shit in your shoes as long as the lid is always up.”

  Slater stared at him, slack-jawed.

  “What?” Derrick asked. “Are you allergic to cats?”

  “No, that’s just...really weird. And unexpected.”

  “You just agreed to move in with me, Fake Boyfriend. Start expecting the unexpected. But only in the best ways possible.”

  “I think I regret this already.”

  “Regret what?” a new voice chimed in. Derrick twisted around, not too surprised to see Reyes and Hugo in the doorway. Hugo had spoken, and his curious bravado died quickly, shifting right into nervous hesitation. Derrick didn’t know the kid well—okay, at all—but he seemed nice enough, if a little skittish.

  “Letting him visit for so long,” Slater replied, tilting his head at Derrick. “He’s exhausting.”

  “That’s not what you said three weeks ago,” Derrick deadpanned. Slater choked.

  Reyes quirked an eyebrow at them. “Derrick. Good to see you.”

  “Same, and I should probably go.” To Slater, he said, “I’m glad I was finally able to see you. Should I check in after your surgery?”

  This close, Derrick could see the subtle flicker of “I’ll get you for this” in Slater’s expressive eyes. “Sure,” Slater replied. “Not sure how doped I’ll be, so I’ll call you.”

  “Sounds good.” He made a show of gently squeezing Slater’s scraped-raw hand before resting it back on the bed. He nearly bent down and kissed Slater’s forehead but he didn’t want to earn the guy’s ire right off the bat. Slater did have to work with these guys again in a few months. “Chin up, you’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Guys,” Derrick said as he passed Reyes and Hugo, heading for the door. He couldn’t hide a smirk as he strode down the busy corridor to the elevators. This visit had ended on a vastly different note than he’d expected when he knocked on Slater’s door. They hadn’t discussed the particulars of Slater moving in with him, but now that Derrick was committed to the plan, he had arrangements to make.

  * * *

  “Didn’t realize you and Derrick Massey were friends,” Reyes said.

  Slater shrugged one shoulder, unsure exactly how to explain Derrick. And a little annoyed Derrick had bailed without confirming they could start telling people.

  What the hell? He’s the one who brought it up.

  “We hooked up after the double wedding,” Slater admitted, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible. “And we’ve kept in contact. Texting and stuff.”

  “Oh? Something there?”

  “Maybe. We get along great.” True enough. Slater had genuinely enjoyed Derrick’s visit, and he had very fond memories of fucking the younger guy. He could see himself being friends with Derrick, as long as Derrick didn’t try digging too deep into Slater’s past. “He actually stopped by to make an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “What kind of offer?” Hugo asked. The kid popped into one of the visitor chairs. He was so earnest during his visits, as if taking his roommate’s health and wellness personally, when they were only casual friends. It was...kind.

  “Well, getting around the ranch on crutches, or God forbid a wheelchair, while my ankle heals won’t be easy, and I don’t like the idea of you guys waiting on me, or d
oing shit for me.”

  “I won’t mind helping out.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. But Derrick made a good point about being closer to the city and better physical therapists.”

  Reyes’s eyebrows arched up. “Are you moving in with Derrick Massey?”

  “I mean... I guess? Neither of us said it in so many words, but it makes sense.”

  “You’re moving in with a total stranger?” Hugo asked, an amusing sort of shock and horror on his face.

  “Dude, you moved in with a stranger when Judson hired you.”

  “True. So are you guys, like, boyfriends?”

  “Dunno. I’ve never been a huge fan of labels, so I guess right now we’re just roommates. Can’t really offer him any benefits at the moment.”

  Reyes scowled. “You sure you’re okay with this arrangement? Because we’ll work something out if you want to stay at the ranch while you recover.”

  “Yes, I’m perfectly okay with this arrangement.” And the more he thought about it, the more it was true.

  The whole “fake boyfriend” thing was kind of brilliant and worked out perfectly for them both. Derrick kept his family off his back about dating during these five upcoming weddings. Slater got a place in the city to recover and get his mobility back.

  Win-win.

  All they had to do was keep things platonic, stay friends, and things would go back to normal in a few months. They’d go their separate ways.

  He just had to get through this damned surgery first.

  Chapter Five

  The house Derrick shared only had two spots in the driveway and both were empty when he arrived home. They were first come, first served, but there was almost always street parking available in this neighborhood. Derrick had a thirty-minute commute to his job, but it was worth it for the rent and quiet. A lot of the older homes had been converted into affordable apartments for younger, child-free renters who needed a place to crash in between working multiple jobs.

  He made a mental note to call his landlord about extra keys for Slater. Each tenant had one to the front door, and each interior apartment had its own unique key for that door. Derrick had liked this place immediately, because the front door opened into what had once been a formal foyer with a wood staircase winding up and then splitting left and right at a landing. A different apartment was at the top of each staircase, while Derrick’s was to the right, opposite his neighbors. The foyer had been decorated like a communal living space, with solid outdoor furniture, cushions and pillows, and a coffee table overrun with magazines and books to share.

  Derrick didn’t hang out here much, because work kept him busy, but it would be a good place for Slater to chill and talk to people. If he wanted to do that. Since Derrick had never really interacted with Slater while the cowboy was around guests, he wasn’t sure if Slater was the chatty type like Colt, or the reserved type like Reyes.

  He glanced around for Lucky before unlocking his own apartment door. The little bastard zipped out into the foyer and leapt onto one of the armchairs. Turned and meowed innocently at Derrick. “You little shit. What did you destroy?”

  Lucky started licking his front paw.

  Derrick went inside and paused, taking in the place like a stranger might. The living space was one big room, all restored hardwood, and no clear definition of living room, dining area or kitchen (other than the obvious counters and other appliances off to the left and a small patch of linoleum flooring). His futon was dated and kind of college-dorm-like, but he had an actual entertainment console for his TV and game system. Real end tables bracketed the futon. The walls were blank and boring, though, and the tiny, four-chair dinette set was this fake-bamboo thing straight out of the eighties.

  Not much to speak of, but Derrick didn’t spend a lot of time here. It was a place to crash, or to occasionally bring a hookup to. Robin had never commented on the décor. But what would Slater think? Then again, the guy shared a small-ish cabin with another dude, so he probably wasn’t very picky about his living space.

  Using checking for cat damage as an excuse, Derrick moved around the apartment, tidying up areas. Making sure his game cases were lined up and not dusty. Straightening the pillows on the futon. The bathroom could use a fresh scrub, and he made a note to do that in the morning. He also found Lucky’s gift floating in the toilet and flushed.

  Weirdo cat.

  His bedroom was almost too small for the mattress, but he’d wanted a king, and he’d squeezed a small dresser in, too. The closet was big, though, and it held most of his stuff. More boring. But if Slater needed to use a wheelchair to keep pressure off his ankle, or whatever, Derrick could shove the bed against the wall and create maneuvering room. Although the futon was a lot lower and more accessible.

  He really needed to stop fussing over this. Once Slater was actually here and the moving in was a done deal, they could figure out the finer details. His stomach rumbled for lunch, and he cursed himself for not hitting a drive-thru on his way home from the hospital. He kept his freezer loaded with high-protein meals, though, so he went into the kitchen.

  The faintest scent of pepperoni enticed him toward his door, instead. He peeked out the hole. His two first-floor neighbors, Dez and Morgan, were settling in the foyer with a large pizza box and paper napkins. The couple was super chill and frequently shared their food with neighbors. He didn’t spot drinks, so he decided to barter himself a slice of pizza with the six-pack in his fridge.

  “Hey, all,” Derrick said as he eyeballed the foyer for the cat. “Thirsty?”

  “Definitely,” Dez replied. She patted the cushion on the love seat next to her. Morgan was sitting at an angle to her in one of the chairs, his bulky body almost too big for it. Dez flipped the box open, revealing some sort of supreme pizza. “Join us for lunch?”

  “For sure, thanks.” Derrick put the beer down next to the pizza, glad this brand was a twist-off, because he’d forgotten the bottle opener. Then again, Morgan could probably flick the caps off with his pinkie. Dude was some kind of bodybuilder and his muscles had muscles. Meanwhile, Dez was petite at five-two, her entire body the same size as Morgan’s thigh. But they were an adorable couple, and Derrick enjoyed spending time with them.

  They bullshitted while they ate, and that pizza hit the spot for Derrick. He loved that they ordered from a local place, rather than a chain, because it just plain tasted better. Lucky came snooping around and Morgan fed the cat bits of his crust.

  “So,” Derrick said after he’d washed his last bite down with a swig of beer. “I may have a friend staying with me for a while.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dez waggled her eyebrows. “A friend you fuck, or a friend-friend?”

  “Not entirely sure yet, because it’s really new. We’re only very casually dating.” True enough. “He busted up his ankle at work a few days ago, and he needs a place to stay where he can recover, and also have someone around if he needs help.”

  “So he lives alone?”

  “No.” Derrick explained a bit more about Clean Slate Ranch and how he met Slater—leaving out the sexy details—and today’s conversation about Slater needing a more accessible place to stay.

  “That’s really chill of you, Derrick,” Morgan said. “Helping out someone who’s practically a stranger. Trusting him in your place.”

  Derrick laughed. “He’s got a broken ankle. I doubt he’ll be robbing me and making a fast getaway. I trust him.” He really did trust Slater, which was odd, because he was very slow to trust nowadays. “Just figured I’d give you guys a heads-up that there will be a new guy in the building soon. But he’s open-minded. Nice guy or I wouldn’t have invited him to stay.”

  He added the last bit for Dez, who grinned at him. While Dez preferred she/her pronouns, she also identified as nonbinary and changed her wardrobe depending on her mood. Today she wore a long flowing skirt and peasant blou
se, and her short hair was carefully styled. And Derrick was very open about being bi. If nothing else, the first floor had each other’s backs.

  They polished off the pizza, and Derrick went home with two unopened bottles of beer. Home being literally ten feet away. He loved this setup because it reminded him more of a college dorm than separate apartments. Plus, with the four separate units on one property, the rent was reasonable for their proximity to the San Francisco Bay Area.

  He checked his phone. Still an hour or so before Slater’s surgery, and calling to check in before it happened felt a little clingy and weird. He would have sent a text if he’d thought to get Slater’s number; all he’d done was give Slater his. Putting the ball in Slater’s court to actually call tonight or not. If he didn’t, Derrick wouldn’t take it too personally. This was a casual arrangement after all, not a real relationship.

  Still...he hoped Slater called. He enjoyed talking to the guy. Slater had the tanned, slightly lined skin of someone used to working long hours in the sun, but he didn’t seem old. Maybe it was the slight air of world-weariness Slater carried with him everywhere Derrick had seen him.

  His cell buzzed. Conrad. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

  “Dude, I know it’s last minute, but are you up for babysitting for a few hours tonight?” Conrad asked, a little out of breath. “There’s plenty of pumped milk in the fridge in case Mia gets hungry, but man, I gotta get Sophie out of the house.”

  “Yeah, you know I’m all in with watching Mia. Sophie getting a little stir-crazy?”

  “You have no idea. She hasn’t really been out much since the baby was born, and I know her hormones are out of whack, but damn, man. I nearly got taken out by a can of soup for asking what was for dinner, and I wasn’t even implying she had to cook, just asking what she wanted.”

  “Yikes.” Derrick couldn’t imagine the stress an infant had on a still-new marriage. “Yeah, I can come over and watch Mia for a while. No problem.”

  “Thank. You. Whenever you can get here. Unless you’ve got plans with that Slater guy?”