Founder

by Jodi Payne

  Aubrey was not a blushing man, but right then he should have been. “Maybe I'm not clear about which position you're askin’ after."

  "Anything under you is fine with me.” Kelly's sharp, green eyes burned holes in Aubrey's skin.

  Aubrey had been racking the balls and he looked back down at the felt and shook his head, knowing that if he looked at Kelly, the kid would never believe what he was about to say. “If you're working for me you're gonna to have to cool off a bit, kid,” he suggested. “I'm serious about my work and I expect you to be."

  Kelly shifted. “Yes, Boss.” But he didn't seem the least bit apologetic.

  "I mean it,” Aubrey growled, hoping it came out stern and not sexy.

  "Sure thing, Boss."

  Aubrey sighed. Maybe it would be best if he didn't throw this game after all. He set the rack and stepped out of the way for Kelly to break, wondering if he could concentrate on the table enough to win. Kelly lined up his cue behind the head string and squinted. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then took his shot. It was powerful and loud and balls went fucking everywhere. The kid sunk two stripes and lined himself up for another one, possibly two more.

  "Jesus Christ.” Never mind throwing the game, after that break Aubrey was just hoping to get a shot at the damn table.

  Kelly called the stripes but otherwise said nothing. He took control of the table, sinking shot after shot until there was nothing left but Aubrey's solids and the eight ball and a small crowd of familiar faces had gathered around. Someone handed Aubrey a whiskey.

  But then Kelly circled the table shaking his head. “Fuck,” he whispered, circling again. He stopped at the head of the table, squinting at the set up, then came around past Aubrey again. Aubrey started to grin. The kid hadn't set himself up a shot. How could a kid that good at this game not set up a shot at the eight ball?

  "What the hell are you doing?” Aubrey asked, suspicious.

  The kid ignored him and bent over the table. “Eight ball, side pocket,” he called, and the crowd shifted. Even Aubrey wondered what the hell he was about. There was no side pocket shot that Aubrey could see. Unless the kid could manage a legal jump shot, and that, Aubrey came to realize, was exactly what the kid intended to try.

  "Are you kidding me?” Aubrey said, downing the whiskey that had been handed to him.

  Kelly brought the stick downward, bouncing the cue ball off the table and it hopped right over the four and landed next to the eight ball.

  It landed next to the eight ball, but with no momentum, and so it tapped the black ball and left it sitting pretty as you please on the verge of sinking, but not quite sunk. The kid looked stunned and just stared at it.

  "You're a damn good player, kid,” Aubrey said smiling slightly, getting up to take his turn.

  Kelly stepped back from the table. “I guess I better hope you choke."

  "You better.” Aubrey had a sweet set up and he circled the table checking out his options. He sunk two balls one after the other, two more at once a moment later, crossed the table to sink the seven and then stunned the three. That left the eight ball, and he had a straight-in shot, he was just a little bit closer than he wanted to be.

  "Sorry, kid,” Aubrey winked at him.

  Kelly spoke up. “Can I up the wager, Mr. Jacek?"

  The crowd liked that question, but Aubrey was puzzled. “Up the wager?"

  "You sink that eight-ball legally and I'll shut my mouth about it, but if you don't, you stop callin’ me ‘kid'."

  Aubrey laughed. “I'll take that wager, kid,” he said, putting special emphasis on the nickname this time. He eyeballed his shot and lined it up neatly, but the second his stick hit the cue ball he knew something had gone wrong. The eight ball sank easy, but the cue ball teetered on the edge of the cup and a moment later, it followed the black ball in.

  Aubrey stared. “Son of a—"

  "Whoohoo!” Kelly interrupted. He vaulted off his bar stool and stepped right over to Aubrey offering him his hand. “Hell of a match, cowboy."

  Aubrey was still feeling a little stunned, but he took the kid's hand and shook it. “Nice work, kid."

  "Kelly."

  "Huh?"

  "Nice work, Kelly. Not ‘kid'."

  "Oh, fuck.” Aubrey grumbled. “Yeah. Nice work, Kelly. How old are you, anyway?"

  Kelly winked at him. “I told you the other night."

  Kelly, the little prick, knew damn well Aubrey couldn't remember squat from the other night. Aubrey nodded to the kid and decided to let it lie for the moment. The crowd around them was starting to disperse, and Aubrey noticed Stan walking Elliot out. He gave them a wave. “Yep. Think it's about time I headed home.” He put his pool cue in the rack and moved back to the table to put the balls away.

  He felt Kelly watching him and then heard the kid tap his stick on the floor a couple of times before going over to rack his cue as well. “Sounds good."

  Aubrey glanced up at him, but said nothing. He pulled the balls out of the pockets and lined them up in the return. Kelly moved around the table with him and hopped up to sit on the rail facing him.

  "You're taking me home, right, cowboy?” Kelly asked in possibly the sweetest voice Aubrey had ever heard.

  Aubrey went for his jacket, using it as an excuse to move away. “I can give you a ride, sure."

  "Whatever you wanna call it, Aubrey, is fine by me."

  Aubrey ignored him. “Are you ready to go?"

  Kelly hooted. “Hell, yeah."

  "Listen, kid..."

  "Kelly."

  Aubrey sighed and rolled his eyes. “Kelly.” He looked at Kelly and spelled out his intentions more clearly. “I can give you a ride back to your room at Elliot's place."

  Kelly laughed. “Are you always this obtuse?"

  "This ob-what?” Aubrey snapped. He hated it when people used words he didn't understand.

  "Deliberately stupid,” Kelly replied, which didn't make Aubrey feel any smarter. “Are you always like that? You know what I'm offering you, here."

  Aubrey didn't answer. Instead he just walked past the kid and they left the bar together. He felt the eyes on them as Kelly followed him outside. Hands and cowboys and ranchers; some accepted him, some didn't. Everyone had a damn opinion and mostly Aubrey knew who to avoid. Aubrey's anger, which was always just under the surface these days, flared briefly. Those nosy hens could kiss his ass, he wasn't about to fuck a new employee. Or fuck him again, if he'd fucked him the first time, which he assumed he had because who the hell wouldn't? But the kid wasn't an employee the first time, so did that even count? Aubrey didn't think it should.

  "Hello?"

  Aubrey blinked. “What?"

  "Where did you go?"

  Aubrey looked at Kelly for a long moment. “Look. If you want the work, I need you to show up at six a.m. Call time gets a little later as we get into winter on account of it's dark ‘n all, but it's barely even fall and there's still some daylight to be had in the mornings."

  "Right, your alarm goes off early, I know."

  "Can you get to the farm on your own?"

  "Damn,” Kelly laughed. “We are having two different conversations at the same time, cowboy. I hear old married couples do this."

  Aubrey continued to ignore him. “Truck's unlocked."

  "Hey. Aubrey. Over here.” Kelly waved a hand at him.

  "I'm guessin’ if you're really that broke that you don't have a ride."

  "I'm talkin’ to myself, here, ain't I?"

  Aubrey drove off quickly. He was feeling tense and wound up and he just wanted to get the kid out of his truck before his cock burst out of his goddamn jeans. “Maybe Ray can bring you in. I think he drives by Elliot's place in the mornings."

  Kelly put a foot up on the dash. It reminded Aubrey of the morning after they ... the morning that Aubrey drove the kid into town. And that memory was not helping matters any. “All right, cowboy,” Kelly said with an exaggerated sigh, “we'll play it your way. Okay? No, I d
on't have a goddamn ride. Yeah, it'd be great if Ray'd pick me up, but he can't in the mornin', ‘cause he don't know yet."

  Aubrey nodded. Business was good. Business was distracting. Business was all they should be discussing. Finally the kid was playing along. “I suppose tomorrow I'll have to pick you up."

  "Or we could just leave your place together."

  That was the straw that made the load too heavy to bear. Aubrey turned the wheel sharply and drove his truck off onto a graveled shoulder, slamming on the breaks so hard that the tires squealed and Kelly slid forward into the dash.

  Kelly shouted at Aubrey, one hand grabbing madly for the sissy handle. “Jesus ... what the hell?"

  Aubrey jammed the truck into park and turned in his seat to look at Kelly, one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “Listen, kid..."

  "Kelly."

  "Fuck that, listen to me!” he growled, fighting a heady, hot mix of anger and need.

  Kelly raised an eyebrow, but the kid didn't flinch. “Damn. You finally gonna talk to me?"

  "Yes. I am. I can't fucking do this.” He felt himself start to shake as he tried to restrain himself. He wanted to punch something, or someone—not Kelly, just someone; someone solid that would cry out and crumple at the impact of his angry fist. Like Chet, maybe. Everything still felt so fucking raw and Kelly was hot, but he was a sweet kid, and he didn't deserve the only thing that Aubrey had to offer him right now. “I won't do this."

  "What? I know I'm not the first bull you've ridden, cowboy, what's the big deal?"

  His mind brewed up a dizzying cocktail of want and hurt, need and anger. “I'm not ... I just had a ... with you workin’ ... and ... fuck!” Aubrey knew he was stammering, but he couldn't put his thoughts together. His voice felt tight and sounded strained and his chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. He tried again. “You gotta leave me be,” he managed, finally. “I'm not civil company these days, you understand?"

  Kelly leaned forward. Forward, not away as he should have. He should have backed off, gotten out of the truck, run fucking fast and hard, but he didn't. He got closer, too close, and without leave he pushed his hand against the aching bulge in Aubrey's jeans. When Aubrey growled at him, wanting to scare him off, wanting Kelly to leave him be, the kid's eyes flashed wickedly and in that smooth, sweet voice he said, “Fuck me, Aubrey."

  Smart-ass kid had a rubber in his fist and everything.

  Aubrey snapped. He brutally shoved Kelly backwards, and the kid hit the passenger door with a muted thud. He could vaguely hear Kelly egging him on over the roar of blood in his ears. “Yeah,” the kid was saying, “come on, cowboy, hurry it up.” Kelly popped the button at the top of his own jeans and shoved them down over his hips.

  At six-foot-two, Aubrey was hardly a small man, and so he wasn't in the habit of fucking anyone in the cab of his pick-up truck. As legs tangled, clothing tore, and arms got in the way he was damn sure reminded why not. But Kelly put that condom on him so fast he barely felt it and then he was pushing, shoving, sinking deep into the kid and he just didn't give a good goddamn that he was stooped over and he kept hitting his shoulder on the roof of the cab every time he'd move. He probably should've cared that his hip kept honking the horn every forth of fifth thrust, but fuck that, Kelly felt hot and he was tight and groaning and Aubrey pounded every fucking ounce of anger and hurt and shame into that kid's ass until he heard Kelly cry out and felt sticky spunk on his belly.

  It was all over then. As Kelly gulped air, Aubrey pinned him to the bench seat with one hand, gasping and grunting like a goddamn animal until he finally let it go, feeling all the fucking crap that Chet left behind shooting out his cock with it.

  When it was done he hung there, panting hard and waiting for his head to clear. He felt Kelly's hands on him, stroking his thigh, but when the kid reached up to touch his face Aubrey flinched reflexively and recoiled backward as if he'd been hit. He felt scared, he felt ashamed, but fuck if he didn't feel like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders.

  "Whoa, cowboy. You okay?"

  "Are you?” Aubrey rubbed his face with both hands. “Jesus, why did you let me do that? Why didn't you—"

  "I'm fine.” Kelly interrupted. He was tying off the condom and Aubrey wondered when the hell he'd gotten hold of it. The kid chucked it out the window and Aubrey was momentarily reminded of high school. Oh yeah, he remembered, he had fucked in the cab of a pick-up before.

  "You're fine?” Aubrey repeated, disbelieving.

  "I am.” Kelly sat up. He was flushed and disheveled and his shirt was wide open to his waist, showing off a fine summer tan. “Can we go back to your place now?"

  Aubrey was too rattled to argue with him. He turned back and looked out over the hood at the dark road ahead of them as he tucked his spent cock back in his jeans, then pulled off the shoulder.

  * * * *

  They didn't talk on the way back to Aubrey's house. Aubrey put the window down to clear out the smell of spunk and sweat, and it served double-duty, making conversation difficult over the roaring wind. He left it down even after the smell was long gone. Once they pulled into the drive, Kelly slid out of the truck before Aubrey had even put it in park and headed for the house.

  "Gotta piss!” he called over his shoulder to Aubrey who was moving more slowly, still getting out of the truck.

  Aubrey tossed him the keys.

  He had to admit he felt good. Great even. He watched Kelly unlock the door and quickly disappear inside the house and wondered what the hell was happening to him. Lovers didn't just drop out of the sky in Tennessee, they were damn hard to come by. Why the fuck was the one that landed in his lap this time about to start work for him? Kelly was young, younger than any lover Aubrey had had in years. There were endless lists of reasons why getting involved with him on any level was a bad idea.

  But Kelly smelled fresh and his skin was smooth as butter and those green eyes just wouldn't let him be, even from the other side of his closed front door.

  He looked back into the cab, wondering if he'd ever be able to look at the upholstery again without thinking of Kelly's ass.

  They hadn't been inside five minutes when the heavens opened up. The rain started first and then the thunder and lightning, and in just a few more minutes the raindrops were loud on the roof. Aubrey knew there was supposed to be a front coming through, but he thought it was forecast for tomorrow afternoon. Last he checked it was clear skies in the forecast for tonight, and so he'd only put one man on the night crew. When Kelly came out of the bathroom, Aubrey was watching the large drops bounce off the hood of the truck.

  "Sure is coming down all of a sudden."

  Aubrey nodded, squinting into the wet night. “Mmhmm. Got horses out."

  "Aw, shit."

  Aubrey sighed and grabbed up his hat again. “I better..."

  "I'm coming."

  They got back into the truck.

  Chapter Eight

  The farm was already mobilized when they arrived. Haley was out with Lars, his eldest son, and had rounded up a couple of the hands that were bunking up in the loft, but even with Aubrey and Kelly's help, between the sloppy pastures and the lightning they still spent half the night trying to round up the horses. By morning, they were wet, aggravated, and tired, but Thelma invited them all up to the house, served them biscuits and sausage gravy and lots of hot coffee, and things didn't seem quite so bad after that. Even Kelly, who'd had a hell of a first night on the job, didn't seem quite so dazed after his second cup.

  The following days were a wash out, too. The county road that went out to the farm had been dusty and dry for weeks with the late summer heat, but after two days of almost constant storms it had turned to mud. Getting out to the farm was a challenge.

  One morning in particular, Aubrey gave up on the road entirely and drove his truck through a fallow field, hoping it would be more solid. It was slippery and tough going, but he managed not to get bogged down and made it to the farm
. Kelly hadn't left the barn since the rain had started, sleeping up in the loft with the overnight crew, but Aubrey had headed home to check on his house; it had flooded two springs ago and he wanted to make sure the drainage he'd dug was holding. That was his story, anyway. Aubrey was pretty damn sure the house was fine, but he needed an excuse to put some distance between him and his new hand.

  Tonight, however, there would be no such excuse. He wasn't going to risk his truck on that road again, not until the rain let up and it had dried out some, and so he knew he was going to be sleeping up in the loft with everyone else. Maybe he could get a bunk away from Kelly, at least. Or maybe he'd just bunk with Guinevere.

  As it turned out, no one went home that night. Thelma, with the help of her three daughters and two youngest sons, had set up chow for the stranded hands in the indoor ring. Thelma was a sturdy woman with a friendly face and a heart big enough to hug the whole county and then some. She treated every hand on the farm, including Kelly, like one of her sons. She fussed and hovered and served up seconds, and when everyone's belly was full she checked in with the cowboys to see how their wives, girlfriends, and mothers were doing. Aubrey appreciated the grub, but he wasn't much for chatter about the obvious lack of women in his life and so he made a quick escape while Thelma had her back turned. Everyone knew which way the wind blew with him, but some of the men were still ... well, they weren't all as friendly as Thelma and Haley.

  The horses had been growing restless after two solid days indoors and Aubrey was right there with them. He could sense every short temper, every twitchy muscle, every ounce of pent-up energy, and it only served to wind him up even tighter. He made the rounds of the mares’ barn to ease his mind and theirs, stopping by each stall to hand out treats and whisper a few quiet words.

  Mo was a cribber and she was pacing in her stall as he stopped by. Earlier in the day Aubrey had walked her through the aisles of the barn until his boots rubbed him wrong, and yet there she was, still chewing and pacing, chewing and pacing. He couldn't blame her for being bored. Tomorrow he'd try hanging a milk jug from the ceiling for her to play with, and if that didn't work, he'd order her a strap.