by Jodi Payne
Tending Tyler
Jodi Payne
BA Tortuga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
Tending Tyler
Copyright © 2021 by Jodi Payne & BA Tortuga
Edited by LC Hinson
Cover illustration by AJ Corza
http://www.seeingstatic.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
ISBN: 978-1-951011-46-8
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. No eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Tygerseye Publishing, LLC, www.tygerseyepublishing.com
Electronic edition published by Tygerseye Publishing, LLC, May, 2021
Printed in the USA
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
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To our wives.
1
Four to closing was a long shift at the bar, especially on a weekend, but Tyler didn’t mind it. He was busy all night long, and he usually went home with good tip money in his pocket and just exhausted enough that he could actually sleep. Sometimes he slept so long he’d get up, shower, and go right back to the bar for his next shift.
Busy was good. The busier the better.
He was on with Peter tonight, and they had it handled. They’d been working together so long they didn’t have to think, so they moved around each other easily and got the job done.
“Need ice!” Peter called out before disappearing through the swinging door next to the bar.
He gave Peter a nod and kept making drinks like it was the only thing left in the world. Which it kind of was.
Margarita. Bloody Mary. Cosmo. Three daiquiris—peach, strawberry mango. Five beers.
He caught sight of a cowboy hat and pulled Dex a Coke. Dex was the boss’s best friend’s guy, and the man tipped like a dream. It served him well to keep the guy happy.
Tyler ran it over, shocked as hell to come face-to-face with a silver fox that was, unquestioningly Not Dex.
It threw him, and it took him a second to snap out of it. He set the Coke down on the bar, blinking at the stranger. “Hey.” Friend of Dex’s maybe? Not too many cowboy hats walked in here. “Sorry. What can I get you?”
“Coors and a shot of Cuervo, please, sir.” The voice was low, gravelly, and pure southern. God, that was strangely ominous.
“Gold or Silver?”
“Silver, please.” He got a smile, a nod, the man holding his gaze.
“You got it.” Ominous, but polite. Kind smile. Taller than Dex.
Tyler danced around Peter who was dumping ice from two big buckets into the freezer. Coors was on tap, and he got that started, then reached for the Cuervo. They were going through the tequila tonight for sure. Probably the warm weather.
Well, not this guy. This guy just looked like a tequila guy. He poured the shot generously.
“Coors and Cuervo.” He set them down on the bar. “Running a tab?”
“Yessir.” A card was handed over, easy as you please. “Y’all are busy as a one-legged man at a butt-kicking competition.”
That made him grin. “I like that. Yes, we are. Fridays are our busiest night usually.” He glanced at the card out of habit, clipped it to a bill and wrote ‘Coors/Cuervo (Sil)’ on it. “Where are you from?” Matthew. The card said the man’s name was Matthew. Could be Matt or Matty, maybe.
“Central Texas—between Austin and Houston. I got me a ranch there.” One huge, square hand was offered to him. “Matthew Whitehead. Pleased.”
“Tyler McKeehan. Also pleased.” He shook, the hand solid and strong in his. “Welcome to New York.”
“Can we get—” The guy sitting next to Matthew tapped his glass.
“Sure, no problem.” He poured a couple of refills. He was about to ask Matthew what brought him to the city, typical bartender small-talk type stuff, when one of them stopped him.
“Aren’t you Tyler?”
“I…yes?” He thought they looked familiar too, but he couldn’t remember where he’d met them.
“We thought so, we kept saying we thought you were… Uh. Yeah. Sorry about Will. We were so shocked.”
Will.
Tyler’s stomach twisted, and his heart started to pound. He tried to put their drinks down on the bar with shaking hands and missed, one of them dumping back toward him, but the other tipped toward Matthew.
Matthew caught it, but the glass stem shattered in the man’s big hand. He handed Tyler the top part of the glass with blood already starting to drip. “Point me toward the washroom, if you would.”
“Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.” He stared at the broken glass and then at the blood in Matthew’s hand. God. Not more blood.
“Whoa. Ty?” Peter stepped around him with a towel and handed it to Matthew. “You okay, sir? How bad is it?”
“It’s fine, y’all. No worries. I’ll wash it off, and we’ll be good as gold.” Dark gray eyes landed on him, so quiet, so calm. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah.” No. He looked away; those eyes were strangely comforting but they also wanted honesty. “All good. I’m so sorry.”
“Men’s room is around to the left.” Peter pointed in that direction and cleaned up the bar.
“Sorry. I’ll get you guys new drinks. I’m sorry.”
Peter stopped him. “It’s okay. I’ve got it, Ty.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay.” He stood there for a second, dumbly, not sure what to do with himself.
“Go make sure the cowboy is okay, man. Antibiotic cream, bandage.” Peter offered him a super quick hug. “Breathe. Go.”
“Right. I’m good. Got it.” Because that wasn’t embarrassing or anything. He stopped by the office First Aid kit and pulled out a couple of Band-Aids, some gauze, and a tube of Neosporin, then headed for the men’s room.
Matthew was in there, a chunk of glass on the counter, paper towels jammed in his palm. He looked up as Tyler walked in. “Hey, there. I don’t suppose y’all have a tube of superglue?”
“Superglue.” Tyler dropped everything he’d brought on the counter and blinked at Matthew again. Did he hear that right? “Superglue? I don’t know. I can check the office. Do you need stitches? I can call…”
“I don’t, no. I just need a little glue, honey, to push the edges toget
her, and I’ll be right as rain.”
“Okay… I’ll be right back.” Superglue. Seriously? Tyler jogged to the office and dug through the boss’s desk. Les’s drawers were neatly organized and he was making a mess—he’d apologize later—but he found a brand-new tube in a little cubby in the top drawer.
Wow. Right on. He rushed back to the men’s room with it. “Superglue. I can’t believe it.”
“Good deal. I got my smart hand, so I’ll need you to open the glue for me, okay?”
“Oh. Sorry. Sure.” Wake up, Ty, the man needs some help here. He used the little tricky cap to open the tube. “You got this?” His hands had stopped shaking, but he wasn’t sure anybody should be trusting him with anything right now.
“I got this, thank you, sir.” Matthew gave him a grin. “Don’t beat yourself up, huh? It was my bad.”
“No. No, that was definitely my fault.” He covered the bloody shard of glass with a paper towel and threw it out, willing his hands not to start shaking again, then cleaned up the counter. “Shaky hands. Totally on me.” He just hadn’t heard Will’s name in a while. Every time he thought he’d put that awful image out of his mind, someone would say something, remind him, and he was staring at a bloody bathtub again.
“Sounds like someone gave you a fright.” Matthew cleaned the blood off and dripped the glue into the meat of his hand then pushed the flap down. Sweat popped out on the man’s cheeks, and a low sound escaped.
“Sort of.” Matthew had obviously done this a few times, but that glue had to burn. “How about I get you another shot?”
“I think that would be a fine idea, yes. If you don’t mind.” He got another of those strange, wonderful smiles.
“I’m on it.” He dashed out of the bathroom, but stopped and ducked his head back in. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a great smile?”
It wasn’t until he’d left again that he realized Matthew might think he was flirting, and that just made this whole evening even more fucking awkward.
“Is he okay?” Peter asked as Tyler pulled the tequila off the shelf. “Are you?”
“He superglued his hand. Superglue. He glued the cut together.” Tyler shook his head. “Craziest thing ever.” He avoided the question about himself, he just didn’t know. He still felt anxious.
“Is that for him?”
“Yeah, on me.” The whole night would be on him.
“Good man. Here he comes. Breathe.”
Matthew seemed to take up the entire room, somehow, sucking the air out of it. Jeans, a white button-down, huge silver buckle. And that hat. It was like a costume, except you could tell it wasn’t.
How was he supposed to breathe?
“I made it a double.” He sat the glass down on the bar carefully, sliding it toward the cowboy.
“Thank you, sir.” Matthew lifted his shot in salute, then knocked it back, humming deep in his chest.
“Not one of my better nights. I’m sure that’s not the kind of souvenir you wanted to bring back from New York.”
The couple that had asked about Will was gone…could this night get any worse? Les would probably hear about that.
Matthew winked at him, and he got to see that smile again. “No worries, honey. Seriously. It’s a little cut. I don’t suppose I could get me a Coke? If I don’t slow down, y’all will have to roll me out of here at last call.”
Matthew kept calling him “honey”. And it didn’t feel weird. Which was…well, weird.
“You mean a Coke-Coke or like a Dr Pepper or something-Coke?” Thank you, Dex. That little bit of regional knowledge had upped his bartender game with some out-of-towners.
Jesus, that smile just got warmer. “Y’all have Dr Pepper? Because I’d love that.”
That felt good, it made up for ruining the guy’s night a little. “We do. Sit tight.” They kept it in cans because it wasn’t hugely popular, but Dex drank it like it was going out of style so there was always some cold in the fridge.
He grabbed a can, having a look around the bar to see if Peter needed help. It must be late because it had cleared out some and there were a number of empty seats at the bar. Peter was actually doing some restocking.
“One Dr Pepper.” He opened it for Matthew and poured it over a few ice cubes in a tall glass. He seemed to have relaxed enough not to spill this too.
“You rock. Thank you. I need to be able to find my hotel room again, so I have to pace myself some.”
“Oh, we’re experts around here at getting people rides back to their hotels. No worries.” He winked at Matthew. “So what brings you here? Not here, like the bar…men don’t usually wander into the bar for no reason…but here. To the city.”
Well, that was articulate. Jesus, maybe he needed a drink. He glanced at the clock. Nope, not close enough to closing yet.
“You got to promise not to laugh.”
Oh, that was intriguing.
“I’ll guess. You do a drag show in Daisy Dukes.” Tyler grinned and leaned on the bar. “No?”
“I am not the drag type, unfortunately. It stains the beard. I have been made up, but it’s not why I’m here.” Matthew chuckled softly, and he thought that was a blush. “I am a big reader, believe it or not, and I came to BookExpo America. It’s what I do for vacation every year. I get enough books for me, my girls, and the little library van that goes from ranch to ranch.”
Oh, wow. That was so…sweet. And kind. And it was so wholesome it hurt. “Books. I was definitely not expecting that.” He wasn’t expecting the blush either. He smiled back. “Not exactly the rough and tumble cowboy image.”
“No, I know, right? Still, it is what it is, and I shipped my first two boxes this afternoon.” Matthew sipped his drink, licked his mustache. “So, are you a reader?”
“Well, I read. I don’t know what makes a reader.”
“I guess if you like it? I mean, I know lots of folks that never read a book.” Matthew chuckled softly, the look suddenly wicked. “I’m not sure my brother knows how to read.”
Tyler laughed. “I like to read. I’m slow. I tend to read in chunks, but I read. I like those detective books about serial killers, and mysteries. And I like books about people and how they…get through things. Like rowers at the World War Two Olympics. Stuff like that.”
“I get that. I love thrillers, histories, spy novels, westerns—hell, I like a good racy romance, too. I live on three thousand acres, so I read at night a lot, while the TV is on.” He got a wink. “My daddy tried to convince me to whittle instead, but I never could make anything fancier than a square.”
“Three thousand acres? I don’t even have three thousand feet.” He laughed. “I’m not sure I have three hundred. Wow.”
“Yeah, I have a decent-sized ranch—I raise Beefmasters and Herefords, along with cutting horses. We got goats and chickens too, but they’re not money-makers.”
“We…?” Tyler was a bartender; he paid attention. Matthew wasn’t wearing a ring. “Oh, you said you had girls, right?”
“I do. I have two—eight and ten. My wife died six years ago.” Matthew didn’t look away from him, at all. “And yeah. I know this is a gay bar. I swing both ways.”
He nodded, returning the look. “I’m sorry about your wife. Technically I swing too, but my pendulum’s been stuck on one side for the last few years.” Six years ago. Damn. Those girls had been little.
“I understand that. I dated Deb in high school, a glorious young man in college, and then when I went home to work the ranch, Deb was there.” Matthew chuckled softly. “And before the end of the summer, she’d caught pregnant, so…”
“Women have a way of doing that if you’re not careful.” He nodded sagely. He wasn’t going to ask what happened to her, he’d learned the hard way how difficult that question could be to answer. “If you’re looking for company, most people have good luck on our dance floor.”
“I found someone friendly to chat with, honey. That’s way more important than a hookup.”
; “A friendly klutz.” He smiled though; something about Matthew soothed him deep down and let him hang out in the moment for the first time in a while. “That’s supposed to be working.” Though Peter wasn’t busy and hadn’t even given him a look yet.
“I can wait if you have to wander. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks. I’ll have to at some point, but it’s slow right now.” He did take the time to start cleaning up, staying where he could still talk. “Tell me about your girls. Who’s with them while you’re here?”
“They’re at my folks’. They have a place down the road and a new in-ground swimming pool. My girls were so ready for a week in the water. I’m going to have to consider getting one too, now that they’re old enough to not worry so much.”
“That’s a chunk of change from what I’ve heard.”
Matthew nodded. “I know a few guys who I can trade straws for it. My bulls go for fifteen a straw.”
A straw? Dex did this occasionally too, said something that only someone who had reason to know would know. “I have no idea what a straw is. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a glass straw of bull semen. That’s where my money is.”
He blinked at Matthew again, who at this point must think he didn’t have a brain cell in his head. But that was the second time tonight that Matthew had said something he was not expecting. “I…had no idea.” He chuckled, grinning, embarrassed.
“That you got bulls’ spunk in glass straws or that you could sell it?” There didn’t seem to be any evil in Matthew, just this easiness, this warmth.
