Hard Ride (Clean Slate Ranch)

by A. M. Arthur

  This was the aggressive guy he’d wrestled with two months ago at the ranch, and holy damn, Derrick had missed this side of Slater. He’d never be able to pin Derrick with that cast on his foot, but the wrestling and pinching and rubbing was the best part. Giving and taking. Hands and lips and tongues and dicks. Derrick longed for a real kiss, to properly taste his boyfriend, but that was Slater’s limit, and Derrick wouldn’t break the trust between them by forcing one on Slater.

  Trust that had been cracked slightly today with the prison confession. It had stunned Derrick to his very core, especially when he heard the charge was assault with a deadly weapon. But when he looked at Slater, he didn’t see a criminal, or a guy who’d intentionally tried to kill another person. He saw a damaged soul working his ass off to do better and be better, every single day. He saw a kind man who loved his daughter and wanted the best for her.

  Hours later, after they’d both come hard and Derrick had gotten them cleaned up, he watched Slater sleep in his bed, a little sad they weren’t snuggled up together on one. But it also clearly spoke to their arrangement. At home, they only had one bed. Why share when they had two here? They weren’t a couple, no matter what they said or did in front of others. No matter the chemistry that sizzled between them. No matter that Derrick had real feelings for the guy. But how could Derrick be honest about his feelings when the façade they were presenting to the world was a lie?

  It was too intense a thought after such a lovely day.

  Still, he missed the closeness of sharing his bed with Slater. Knowing he could reach out and touch Slater if he wanted. Knowing Slater had trusted him enough, especially during that first week or so of recovery, to share his bed every night and know he was safe. His bed would be too big, too empty when Slater left.

  He’d leave a hole in Derrick’s life Derrick wasn’t sure he’d ever fill again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Are things between you and Derrick okay?”

  Slater looked up from the bag of tortilla chips he was pouring into a bowl at the kitchen counter. Mack, Wes, Conrad and Sophie had come over the Saturday evening post-graduation to play board games and chill. Mia was staying the night at her grandparents’ house to give her exhausted parents a break.

  Mack hovered by Slater’s elbow and he’d asked the question in a whisper.

  “We’re fine, why?” Slater replied, genuinely perplexed by the question. He also appreciated the fact that someone from his Clean Slate life came by every weekend to hang, and Slater was trying to be more interactive with his friends. To show his gratitude for the effort they made to include him in their lives.

  “Dunno, you just seem different. Can’t put my finger on it.”

  Slater had been walking on air since Rachel’s graduation party and the lovely breakfast the following morning. They didn’t call or text every day or anything, but it was a positive start. He’d finally made a real connection with his daughter. Maybe he could try to make a real connection with Mack.

  “I’m not sure if content is the right word,” Slater said softly. Everyone else was in the living room, parked around a paused game of Parcheesi while Slater had gone to fetch snacks and others took bathroom breaks. “But I had a real breakthrough in my personal life this week. Something really special, and I wanna say I’m grateful for your friendship, Mack. I mean it.”

  “Same, buddy, same.” Mack shook his hand firmly. “I know we aren’t the closest but you’re family.”

  “Thank you. I, uh, I have a daughter who just graduated high school, and we were never close before but I think we’re going to have a much better relationship going forward.”

  Mack’s bushy eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Wow. Congrats. I had no idea.”

  “No one does because I don’t talk about her. It’s complicated.”

  “I know complicated family, believe me. And I’m not one for spreading private information around.”

  “I know. I told you because I trust you.”

  “Trust him with what?” Wes asked as he bounced up behind Mack.

  “It’s private, boss,” Mack said to Wes.

  “Okay. Come on, we’re ready to keep playing.” He plucked a chip out of the bowl and walked away on a loud crunch.

  Slater grabbed the bowl of chips and crutched his way back to the game. Derrick had invested in a card table and a few folding chairs now that they had regular weekend guests, so people didn’t always have to sit on the floor. Plus, the elevation meant Slater didn’t have to unstrap the crutch every time he wanted to stand or sit. He just made sure he stayed angled so no one tripped over the protruding crutch.

  Wes was still nattering on about an upcoming gig down in Hollywood. Back during pilot season, he’d auditioned for a new medical drama and not gotten the part, but the producer had called him to audition for a two-episode guest spot that he’d nailed. He was packed up and ready to fly out tomorrow to start filming his scenes.

  “Are you working on anything new, Slater?” Sophie asked while Conrad took his turn. “I love the stuff you’ve added to the apartment. It was always so colorless before.”

  “Gee, thanks, Soph,” Derrick deadpanned.

  “I’m serious. The frog rug is adorable. I kind of want one for Mia’s room.”

  “I can make her a rug,” Slater said. “I, uh, kind of did already make her a present.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” His face heated now that he was the focus of every single person’s attention. Derrick helped him out by fetching the small box from their bedroom and handing it to Sophie. She opened it and then peered inside.

  “Oh, my gosh.” Sophie lifted the baby bib out of the tissue. “Uncle Derrick’s My Favorite.”

  Conrad snickered, while Wes harrumphed. Slater had found baby bibs online that could be embroidered and couldn’t resist. “There’s another one,” Slater said.

  Sophie moved a piece of tissue aside and started cackling with laughter. Conrad plucked the second bib out, then tossed it to Wes. Wes snatched it out of the air and huffed. “Uncle Wes Is My Second Favorite. Gee, thanks.”

  Slater shrugged. “Sorry, man, but Derrick’s kind of my favorite, too.” The ease with which that slipped out shocked Slater as much as it seemed to surprise Derrick. Derrick’s surprise quickly melted into a tender smile that Slater tried not to read too much into.

  “Have you ever thought of doing this as a business?” Sophie asked. “You’re really good at it, and there are tons of places online you could set up a storefront. Or you can do local craft fairs and stuff.”

  “Nah. Dez has posted some photos of my stuff on her blog, and I’ve gotten great responses to the really vulgar stuff, but I’m not sure the art world is for me. It’s a fun hobby and it keeps me busy, but I doubt I’ll have time to keep up with it when I’m back at work.”

  “You got an ETA on that?” Mack asked.

  Slater’s gut squirmed with unease. He didn’t like thinking about leaving this apartment, much less discussing it. Ignoring was easier, but he’d gone and brought it up, hadn’t he? “Not an exact one. I finally get this damned cast off next Friday, but the doc says I’ll still need to use a walking boot and maybe a cane for at least four more weeks while I do physical therapy. Plus, I have to work back up to actually using the foot, never mind trying to swing up into a saddle.”

  “I hear you, and there’s no rush. We miss your ugly mug at the ranch, but your job is still safe. Judson says so every time I talk to him.”

  “I appreciate it, Mack.” As much as Slater longed for the wide-open spaces of the ranch, he was...comfortable here. He had friends and things to do, but he couldn’t ask Judson to hold his job beyond what Slater reasonably needed for his recovery. And he had at least six to eight weeks left before he had to make that call.

  Later that night while they took turns getting ready for bed, Derrick
said, “Maybe you should look deeper into selling some of your stuff online. Or offering commissions or something. You really are good and didn’t you say someone asked on Dez’s blog about buying a piece she featured?”

  Slater took his time slipping a sleeveless tee on where he sat at the foot of the bed, grateful Derrick had waited to bring that up. “I guess I can. I mean, I love making stuff I can gift to people, but a little extra cash never hurt anyone.”

  “Dez turned her hobby into a thriving career. I’m sure she’d give you tips.”

  He looked up to where Derrick stood just inside the bedroom door, as if unsure about entering his own room. Derrick’s expression was mild, his tone conversational, but this was also the most direct Derrick had ever been in insinuating Slater should consider a career change. Slater loved his job at Clean Slate; he also loved crafting with Dez during the day and being with Derrick at night.

  No, there was no way he could establish a platform and enough business in less than eight weeks to make quitting Clean Slate financially reasonable. Except he did have a decent savings account, thanks to his lack of living expenses at the ranch. An account he’d dipped into a bit for his hobbies, but he’d be okay, even able to afford paying rent here if he chose to stay...

  No. Nope. Unless Derrick freely asked Slater to stay, he wasn’t going to start imagining a future beyond their agreed-upon time frame. Dreaming about that would just get his heart broken, and he’d had enough heartbreak for one lifetime.

  “I’ll talk to Dez on Monday,” Slater hedged. He’d obviously talk to her but hadn’t promised what he’d talk to her about.

  “Cool.” Derrick finally entered the bedroom and slid under the covers on his side. “Tonight was fun.”

  “Yeah. And we get to see Conrad and Sophie again on Tuesday night.” Wedding three was an oddly planned Tuesday night ceremony, but apparently that specific date was important to the couple. Derrick was taking off work an hour early so he had time to change and drive them to the venue.

  “Yeah, we do.” Derrick reached over and turned off his bedside lamp. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Slater stared at the dark ceiling for a while, his thoughts tumbling all over the place and unable to settle. Once Derrick began snoring softly, he eased out of bed and used his regular crutches to leave the bedroom. But the living room was too small, so he quietly exited the apartment and eased into one of the foyer’s sitting chairs. The main interior light was on a timer that dimmed halfway from midnight to six in the morning, and the murky space reminded him a bit of the woodier areas of the ranch lands, where he could wander under canopies of leaves and branches.

  He’d forgotten his phone, so Slater simply stared. Thumbed through some of the books and magazines folks left out but found nothing of interest. He still had the wrestling magazine Derrick had given him in the hospital, tucked away inside his suitcase. A memento of this strange plan they were both hell-bent on seeing through to the end.

  The front door opened, and Orry Thompson stepped inside. He jumped a mile when he spotted Slater sitting in the gloom. “Christ, dude, you scared the piss out of me,” Orry said.

  “Sorry,” Slater said, mostly to be polite. “I figured everyone would be asleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  “That’s not technically sleeping you know.”

  Orry stopped in his attempt to walk past him for the staircase. “Why are you out here? Did you and Derrick have a fight?”

  “No, I just can’t sleep. Before I busted my foot, I’d take long walks to wear myself out but I can’t exactly do that here.”

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend for a blow job?”

  Because Derrick turned the light off and fell asleep.

  They hadn’t had sex since the hotel and Slater wasn’t sure why. Derrick had been fairly hands-off the rest of this week, despite all the amazing sex they’d had on Tuesday. Then again, Slater hadn’t initiated anything, either, but he had also never been the touchy-feely type. He came, made sure his partner came, and then he left.

  “He’s asleep,” was the dumb response Slater came up with.

  Orry didn’t look impressed. He also didn’t brush Slater off and go to his own place to do whatever. The kid was young, probably in his midtwenties. Cute with shaggy blond hair and big round eyes that reminded Slater of Japanese anime characters. But he had a deep voice that offset the boyish exterior. Slater hadn’t yet met the elusive twin George, and he wondered if the pair was completely identical.

  “You’re the cowboy, right?” Orry asked.

  “Well, not born and raised like some of the guys I work with. I sort of landed in the job but I do love it. Working with horses and wide-open spaces.”

  “Does that mean you’re going back when your foot’s better?”

  “That’s always been the plan.”

  Orry cut his eyes at Derrick’s apartment door. “But plans change.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Well, whatever happens, I guess I hope it works out.”

  “Thanks. You know, if you or your brother ever need anything, you can always knock on our door.”

  Orry chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds before nodding. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

  “See you around.”

  The staircase creaked as Orry ascended them, and about twenty seconds later, a creaky door opened and shut on the second floor. He was intensely curious about the twins’ story but there was no law saying you had to befriend your neighbors. Slater had extended the proverbial olive branch tonight. Now it was up to Orry to ask if he needed help.

  Eventually, fatigue stole over him and Slater returned to bed. He studied Derrick’s sleeping face in the dim room and tried to imagine not having this anymore. Going to sleep in that small cabin with a guy he barely knew across the way. Working with the horses and tourists and not seeing Dez every day. Putting his beloved hobbies aside for a job that left him exhausted at the end of the workday.

  Maybe Clean Slate Ranch wasn’t Slater’s final destination. But if not there, then where?

  * * *

  For all Slater was excited to finally get his leg out of that damned cast—how had it already been eight weeks since his surgery?—and stop relying on crutches, walking in that boot was almost a bigger pain in the ass. The good news was his ankle was healing nicely and he could start light physical therapy next week. The bad news?

  The boot was heavy and awkward, and he walked like he had a constant wedgie he couldn’t dig out. When he limped into the house Friday afternoon, Dez was hand-stitching something in the foyer, and she immediately started laughing at him.

  “You’re walking like a guy doing a horrible John Wayne impression,” she said.

  “My thighs are killing me.” Slater eased down onto the love seat beside her. “But the cast is gone, so that’s progress.”

  She put her needle down and side-eyed him. “Does that mean your time here is drawing to a close?”

  “I don’t know.” In the almost-week since his conversation with Derrick about selling his art, Slater hadn’t actually brought it up directly with Dez. He’d asked vague questions about her blog, how she sold stuff, the fees and things, without insinuating he was curious for himself. But Dez was super smart and probably had a clue or five. “When Derrick first offered me a place to stay, I never imagined how much I’d enjoy living near the city again. I thought the ranch was it for me.”

  “You thought you’d tend horses until you’re old and gray?”

  “Arthur did.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the ranch owner, right? He made that place because he had a passion for what he does. Just like I have a passion for creating new things out of worn and broken things. Do you really think the ranch is your passion?”

  “I have no fucking idea. Seriously, none.”

  “Do you
love him?”

  Slater didn’t patronize her by asking “him who?” “I have strong feelings for him, for sure. I enjoy being around Derrick. He makes me feel good about myself, which I haven’t done in a long damned time.” And because he considered Dez his best personal friend right now, he decided to come clean. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, Dez, and you have to promise to keep it to yourself.”

  Dez mimicked turning a key in her lips.

  “Derrick and I aren’t really boyfriends,” Slater said, admitting it out loud for the first time.

  “Oh, I knew that.”

  Slater would have fallen over if he wasn’t already sitting. “You knew?”

  “Definitely.”

  “How?”

  Dez angled to face him more fully and ticked each point off on a finger. “First of all, you are nothing like the men and women Derrick usually brings home to fool around with. Second, we’d never met you until he moved you into his place. Third, he was always going on about privacy, being content as a single guy, and not wanting the complications of a relationship. Morgan and I both knew it was a ruse so we played along. But now your feelings for him are real?”

  “Yes. We told the truth about how we met at the ranch, but we didn’t actually see each other again until that Friday in the hospital. I could tell he was genuinely glad to see I was okay, and I didn’t understand why it mattered so much to him. Me living with him was kind of made up on the spot, because he needed a fake boyfriend for five weddings this summer to keep his relatives off his back.”

  “So you traded five dates for a place to stay.”

  “Yeah. I mean, we both knew we could live together, and we got along great. Get along great still. But the plan has always been for me to go back to Clean Slate when I can reasonably work again. I guess I could technically go back now but Judson won’t allow me to be around the horses until the boot’s off, and I’m closer to physical therapy here, anyway.”