by Ariel Tachna
“Could you really sell it?” Sam asked. “If someone walked in here and offered to take it off your hands, could you really walk away?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Sam pressed. “Your childhood home? The plot where your parents and grandparents are buried? A hundred and fifty years of family legacy?”
Jeremy flinched at Sam’s words. He hated it when Sam played dirty. “What choice do I have? Even if the bank agreed to a plan of some kind, it will take us years to work our way out of this kind of a hole, and for what? We don’t have kids. There aren’t any Taylors left, other than some cousins who are all perfectly happy with their lives in the city. They aren’t going to want it, and their kids certainly aren’t. If it’s going to pass out of the family’s hands anyway, why should I kill myself trying to save it now? At least if I sell it, I walk away with something. If the bank forecloses, I lose everything.”
“All very valid points,” Sam agreed. “So answer me this: Who would you sell it to? It’s remote enough that I don’t see developers being interested. That means you’d have to find a grazier interested in expanding. You know anyone?”
“We could advertise,” Jeremy said. “There are trade journals, that kind of thing.”
“Before you do that, I have another idea,” Sam said. “If you want to hear it. But if you really want to just sell it and walk away, I won’t try to stop you.”
The last thing he wanted to do was walk away. He just didn’t see how he could stay. “I’m listening.”
“What we need is an investor,” Sam said. “Someone to give us an influx of capital in exchange for a percentage of future profits. If we scratch out the debt for a minute, if we look just at the figures for this year, both current and projected, we’re not in bad shape. We’d have to have a significant loss before we have to worry about not breaking even. The only reason we’re even having this conversation is because of the debt. And with everything we learnt watching Caine and Macklin run Lang Downs, next year has the potential to actually be profitable, debt aside. So if we have an investor who would pay off the debt, we could assure that person of a return fairly confidently. He wouldn’t make his money back in a season, but he would see a return on his investment.”
“So this person gives us money now in exchange for some percentage of the profit later,” Jeremy said. “What if we don’t turn a profit one season? It happens. It happened to Devlin three seasons in a row. It hasn’t happened on Lang Downs recently, but I know there have been bad years there too. Running a station isn’t rocket science, but it’s also not predictable. Mother Nature can be a bitch.”
“We’d need someone who understood that,” Sam agreed. “Someone who would be in it for the long haul.”
“Like who?” Jeremy asked. “It’s a grand idea and all, but where are we going to find such a person?”
“I had a couple of ideas about that too,” Sam said. “Walker’s made a couple of comments about investing his pension from the army, and he understands how stations work. He’s already here and working. It would give him an added incentive to stay and to make the station as successful as possible.”
“I don’t know what kind of pension you think the army pays, but I don’t see it being enough to cover the full debt,” Jeremy said.
“It probably wouldn’t be,” Sam agreed, “although it might be enough to buy us time with the bank even if we didn’t get the station completely out of debt, but I said I had a couple of ideas. Walker was just the first one.”
“And the other one?”
“We talk to Caine and Macklin,” Sam said. “I did the books there long enough to know they could afford it, especially if Walker was also in. I also did the books long enough to know Lang Downs can’t grow any more without more land. They talked about adding to the mob a couple of years ago and decided they couldn’t support it on the land they have without sacrificing the organic certification. It would take three or four years, since Taylor Peak isn’t organic certified, but if we got it there and could run the two stations as one, we could cut down on a lot of overlap in expenses, allow both stations to grow, and increase profitability all around.”
Jeremy considered the suggestion. It wasn’t ideal, but ideal had flown out the window when he inherited Devlin’s debts along with his property. It would allow him to mostly keep his family home and it would take away some degree of the burden of running the station. He might still be the one nominally in charge, but he’d have Caine and Macklin to help him with the big decisions. He’d have Walker to help him run the place, not just temporarily but for good. As they got closer to running the stations as one, he’d have the support of his friends—his family—on a more permanent, planned basis instead of when they had time to come help on their days off. As far as plans went, it was far better than he’d hoped for. Devlin was probably spinning in his grave, but he’d gone and got himself killed. He didn’t get a say in the matter anymore.
“What do we need to do?”
“Give me a couple of days and I’ll put together a proposal,” Sam said. “We can invite Caine and Macklin to dinner, get Walker to join us, and pitch the idea to them then.”
“And if they say no?” Jeremy asked.
“Then we’ll throw ourselves on the bank’s mercy and hope for the best,” Sam replied with a shrug. “But they won’t say no.”
BY THE time Jason had finished his second attempt at dinner, everyone else had wandered off to their own homes for the night, leaving Seth and Jason alone in the canteen. “I don’t want to go back to the bunkhouse,” Jason admitted as he dealt with his dirty plate.
“So don’t,” Seth said.
“I have to eventually,” Jason replied. “I have to work tomorrow, and that means I have to sleep.”
“I do too, but you don’t have to sleep in the bunkhouse. You could stay over with me. We’ve done it before,” Seth offered.
Jason looked at him intently.
“Just to sleep,” Seth said. “That way you wouldn’t have to go back to the bunkhouse.”
“I’d like that,” Jason said. “As long as it won’t make you feel pressured.”
Seth couldn’t promise it wouldn’t, but he owed it to them both to try. They walked to Chris and Jesse’s house in silence, shoulders close enough to brush but not otherwise touching. Seth led Jason into his bedroom, the same as he had done a thousand times before. Jason kicked off the sandals he’d put on after he got rid of his boots after work, the same as he’d done a thousand times, and settled on the bed next to Seth… the same as he’d done a thousand times. It felt so incredibly familiar to be here with Jason like this. How many nights had they lain side by side in one room or the other, talking about their days and their dreams? They’d spent the better part of three years sleeping over with each other, and at least half the nights they were home on breaks from uni or just because.
Then Jason tugged on his hand and pulled Seth into his arms.
That was new. Years overdue to hear some of the year-rounders tell it, but definitely new.
Seth wrapped his arms around Jason’s chest, tucked his head under Jason’s chin, and held on. Now that he had the right to touch this way, he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity.
“You know everyone who saw us walk this way together is going to think we’re having sex,” Jason observed softly.
Seth tipped his head back so he could look at Jason. “With my brother in the next room?” he said with a shudder. “I don’t think I could get it up, knowing he could hear every sound we made.”
“You mean you never snuck a girl into your room before you and Chris came to Lang Downs?” Jason teased.
Seth shook his head. “When we lived with Tony, I didn’t bring anyone home because I didn’t even want to go into that hellhole. Why would I have brought anyone else there? And after Tony kicked us out, I didn’t have a room of my own. We were lucky to have a bed in some of the places we stayed. I didn’t have my own room again until we moved here.”
Jason’s arms tightened around Seth. “You never talk about your life before you got here. I always forget growing up wasn’t the same for you as it was for me.”
Way to go, Simms, Seth thought. Totally fuck up the mood.
“Mostly I just want to forget about it too,” Seth said. “But no, no sneaking girls into my room. Boys either, for that matter. I slept over with friends a few times, but that never lasted long when I wouldn’t reciprocate.”
Jason kissed the top of his head. Seth alternated between feeling comforted and patronized. He pushed the second reaction aside. Jason wouldn’t patronize him. He needed to change the subject, though, because Jason would feel sorry for him, and Seth hated that. “We talked about Misfit, but I didn’t ask how Jeremy was doing.”
“Jeremy looked really run-down.”
“It’s got to be hard,” Seth said. “I can’t imagine what I would do if something happened to Chris. He was all I had for so long.”
Jason’s arms tightened around him. “Nothing’s going to happen to Chris, but even if it does, you won’t be alone. I promise.”
Seth would have given anything to believe that, but he knew the value of promises. His mother promised things would get better when she married Tony. She’d promised Tony would take care of him after she died. Hell, Tony even promised her he’d see to her boys. He’d seen to them all right. He’d seen them right out the door. Chris was the only person who had never broken a promise to him, who had never left him. Seth wanted to believe Jason, but he didn’t know how to trust anymore.
“I need to get over to Taylor Peak and take a look at Jeremy’s machinery,” Seth said instead of acknowledging Jason’s promise. “It’s not much, but if I can take that worry off his mind, he can focus on other things.”
“I know he’d appreciate it.” Jason scooted down on the bed so he was lying nearly flat and rearranged his arms so one lay across Seth’s chest and the other rested between them. He stroked the line of Seth’s sternum lazily, the contact more relaxing than arousing. That could change in a heartbeat, but for now, Seth purred under the touch like a lazy kitten. It had been a long time since he’d just basked in someone’s presence this way. Ilene hadn’t been the relaxing sort, and even then, she’d expected him to take care of her, not the other way around. Seth would happily take care of Jason anytime he needed it, but the casual affection implicit in Jason’s light caress soothed rough edges he didn’t even know he had.
God, he hoped this meant Jason loved him too. He’d told himself repeatedly that Jason’s reaction in the tractor shed was more than enough proof that Jason felt the same way, but a part of him really wanted to hear the words. Asking for them would be admitting how needy Jason made him feel, though, and he couldn’t make himself that vulnerable. Not even to Jason. Jason wouldn’t hurt him deliberately, but Seth had learned the hard way not to open himself up to being hurt. He could be patient. They had time. Jason would say the words when he was ready and everything would be fine.
If he said it enough times, he might even believe it eventually.
Jason rolled onto his side and kissed Seth hungrily. Seth responded instantly, his body reacting despite his earlier comment about Chris in the next room.
“Think we can come up with an excuse to get Chris and Jesse out of the house for a few hours?” Jason asked. “Because I really want to get naked with you.”
The words sent shivers through Seth. He wanted Jason so much it scared him. He leaned in for another kiss to cover his nerves. “They’ll see right through any excuse we come up with.”
“Does it matter?” Jason asked. “We’re both well over the age of consent. There’s no reason we shouldn’t have sex. I guarantee they do. And probably have since you’ve been home.”
That wasn’t an image Seth needed in his head. “Way to kill the mood,” he grumbled. “I don’t guess the bunkhouse is an option either.”
“Those walls are even thinner than the walls here. And… I’d feel like I was rubbing it in Cooper’s face, and that seems like a shitty way to thank him for pushing us into getting together, even if that wasn’t his intention.”
Seth was twisted enough to want to rub it in Cooper’s face a little, but Jason was right, and Seth had won the prize, so he could be magnanimous. “Drover’s hut?”
Jason laughed. “Why don’t we just suggest to Jesse that he should take Chris into town on their next day off? Yes, they’ll know, but it’ll be worth it to have you to myself.”
“You talk to him,” Seth said. “I’m not going anywhere near either of them with this. One sex talk with my brother was enough to last for a lifetime.”
“Don’t think I won’t,” Jason replied. “Just not right now.”
Seth snuggled deeper in Jason’s embrace. Jason could worry about that tomorrow. Seth had more important things on his mind. Like keeping Jason there until they fell asleep together. Just like old times, only better.
Thirteen
“ARE YOU sure you’re okay with this?” Sam asked as he and Jeremy got ready for dinner. It had been a week since Sam had brought up the idea of asking their friends to invest in the station. Caine and Macklin had agreed to come over, and Walker had shrugged and told them he didn’t care where he ate as long as he got food. “We can forget about it and just enjoy dinner with friends and our foreman. We can ask Caine and Macklin’s advice on all the things we still feel like we’re guessing about, and we can explain Walker’s presence because he’s the one who will help us carry out whatever plans we make.”
“No.” As much as Jeremy hated admitting he was in over his head, the other option was losing the station to the bank, and that would be even worse. “As hard as this will be, it’s still the best alternative we have. If they say no, we’ll consider other options, but we have to try.” Devlin wouldn’t agree, but it was Jeremy’s best choice for preserving some part of his family’s legacy. “We should go down. They’ll be here soon.”
“I’ll be down in just a minute,” Sam said. “I want to look through the numbers one more time, just to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”
Sam hadn’t missed anything. Jeremy knew that as surely as he knew his own name. That was nerves talking. Sam didn’t want to do this any more than Jeremy did, but they didn’t have a choice. Jeremy gave Sam a quick kiss and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Philippa, the station cook—nowhere near as creative as Kami but still a sight better than the station cook from before Jeremy had moved to Lang Downs—had left dinner warming in the oven so all Jeremy would have to do was serve. The food would be edible and filling, but he wondered what he’d have to bribe Caine with to get her lessons with Kami. Or maybe he could borrow Sarah for a week. She’d picked up all of Kami’s recipes by now. Most nights the Lang Downs jackaroos couldn’t guess who had actually made the meal anymore.
“Stop stalling,” he muttered to himself as he set the table. “Even if they say no, they’re still your friends and you can enjoy an evening together.”
He heard a car door close and booted feet on the veranda. “They’re here, Sam,” he called up the stairs as he went to open the door. “Hi, Caine, Macklin. Thanks for coming.”
“We’re glad to be here,” Caine said. “Is everything okay? You said you had something you wanted to talk about.”
“Dinner first, business later,” Sam said as he joined them in the foyer. “No need to spoil our appetites. We’re just waiting for Walker.”
“How’s he working out as foreman?” Macklin asked.
“Better than I could have hoped,” Jeremy replied. In the month Walker had been at Taylor Peak, Jeremy had already come to rely on him as much as he relied on Sam, albeit for different things. “He’s not always up to date on the latest trends, but he’s smart and willing to learn. Most importantly, though, he put the fear of God in the jackaroos. Some of them still look like they might argue with Sam or me, but they see him coming and get to work without him saying a word. It suddenly doesn’t matter that the
orders came from me when Walker is the one barking them at the men.”
“Nobody instills discipline like a Commando drill sergeant,” Walker said from behind them as he walked in the door. “I had good teachers.”
“Walker, good to see you again,” Macklin said, offering his hand for Walker to shake. “How are you settling in?”
“Like a duck to water,” Walker replied. “Some things you just don’t forget. It helps to have bosses who know what they’re doing. It’s easy to enforce a logical order. Not so much when the decisions don’t make sense.”
“Tell us if that ever happens,” Jeremy said immediately. “This isn’t a dictatorship.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it was,” Walker replied. “Some of the jackaroos haven’t figured that out yet, but they’ll come around.”
“My brother—”
“Is no longer running the station,” Walker interrupted. “I don’t speak ill of the dead. So, enough about that, you said you had something to talk to me about?”
Caine laughed. “We just asked and were told no business until after dinner.”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil anyone’s appetite,” Sam said. “Our cook may not be up to Kami’s standard, but who is?”
“Then let’s eat,” Walker said. “I’m starving, and Phil might not cook like Kami does, but she’s still in a whole different class than what I got in the army.”
“Phil?” Caine asked.
“Philippa, but the only thing she hates worse than being called that is being called Pippa.” Caine’s grin grew wider, and Jeremy could practically see him matchmaking in his head. “What?” Walker said. “It pays to be on the good side of the person making your meals. Just ask Lachlan if you don’t believe me.”
BY THE time they finished eating, Jeremy had relaxed. Whether that was because of the good company or the beer, he wasn’t sure, but he lifted his glass in a toast to the others at the table. “Cheers, mates. Sam and I are lucky to have such good friends.”
