Hot Off the Ice Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by A. E. Wasp

  Leaving Bryce’s suitcases open and half unpacked on the bare mattress, Dakota ran downstairs.

  He and Bryce had spent every minute of the last four days together. They probably should have spent less time in bed and more time on emptying the big house of thirty years of Tommy’s things. But, by unspoken mutual agreement, they had both avoided mentioning the house, the orchard, and pretty much anything about the future in general.

  That was healthy, right?

  During the day, Bryce followed Dakota around as he got the farm and orchard ready for winter. At night, he flipped through book after book on Buddhism and the mind and philosophy, questioning Dakota on his beliefs or asking for clarification.

  Dakota hadn’t had these kinds of wide-ranging discussions about life, the universe, and everything in years. Bryce caught on quickly, following threads of meaning through different schools of thought, and forcing Dakota to revisit ideas and concepts in new ways.

  He seemed particularly taken with The Book of Joy, a conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu, and spent a lot of time reading silently, then staring out into space, eyes full of emotion.

  Dakota loved it when Bryce paced animatedly around the room, words tumbling out as fast as he could speak and arms waving as he explored an idea. From the couch, Lu followed his every step with wide, adoring eyes.

  And then there was the sex. Every time was incredible. They hadn’t had what Bryce still called ‘real sex’ yet. Something held Dakota back from crossing that final barrier.

  He hadn’t been surprised when Bryce stayed over the first night. The dark of night had given over to the gray of early dawn by the time they’d crashed into sleep, sated and exhausted. What had been a surprise was when he had asked to stay over the next night and the night after that.

  He hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. The big house was too empty, too lonely, and too full of the ghosts of other people, he claimed. Dakota couldn’t have said no even if he had wanted to. Which he hadn’t.

  Bryce’s toothbrush had been the first item to migrate to Dakota’s house. Then his clothes—all of his clothes. Since he still hadn’t unpacked, it only made sense for him to bring his suitcases over to Dakota’s house.

  Those same suitcases now stood in the corner of the room as a mute reminder that Bryce would eventually up and leave Dakota’s life as abruptly as he had come into it.

  He slipped into Dakota’s world with terrifying ease. Instead of disrupting his routine, Bryce’s presence made the same old life new again. Bryce had burst out laughing at the sight of the Polish frizzle chickens with their wild bouffant of white feathers. His amazement at the varying breeds of chickens led to Dakota pulling pictures up on his phone and making a list of the types Bryce wanted to order in the spring.

  “You can get chickens, live chickens, shipped to you? That’s crazy.” Bryce patted the docile Buff Orpington chicken tucked against his chest. “Not that there’s anything wrong with chickens,” he reassured the fluffy red bird.

  He’d been shocked when Dakota picked up the bird and shoved it at him. He eyed it nervously. “I don’t think I’ve ever even been this close to a chicken.”

  Dakota rolled his eyes. “It’s easy, City Boy. Just hold out your hands. She likes it, I promise.”

  Eyebrows drawn together skeptically, Bryce took the bird, holding it gently as if it would explode. Bryce relaxed as the chicken relaxed, and Dakota’s heart lurched at the surprised smile spreading across Bryce’s face.

  “It’s so soft!” Bryce exclaimed, and soon he was carrying her around the farm cradled against his chest, petting her absently as he did.

  Pretending to check something on his phone, Dakota surreptitiously took several pictures of Bryce looking like that bad guy with the cat from the James Bond movies. Blofeld. That was his name. His mom had been a huge James Bond fan.

  By the time they’d finished gathering eggs and feeding and watering the chickens, Bryce had named the bird Clarice, had promised her she would never be eaten, and was halfway to being a vegetarian.

  Bryce’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Dakota found himself thinking that maybe they could make this work. Whether ‘this’ meant the orchard, their relationship, or both, he wasn’t sure. He sucked at relationships. As far as the orchard went, though, he had some ideas rattling around in the back of his mind. They were probably stupid, but maybe Bryce would at least hear him out.

  Reality had come and popped their bubble a few days later with the news that the moving truck carrying his mother’s belongings would be there the next day.

  So while Bryce drove to the airport to pick up his mother, Dakota took the suitcases back to the big house, unpacked Bryce’s clothes, and tried to make it look like Bryce had slept there at least once.

  He tried not to read too much into the staging of the room, but it was obvious Bryce wasn’t about to tell his mom he had basically moved in with a total stranger the first day they’d met.

  Even though it seemed like a rational decision, it stung a little. They hadn’t talked about Bryce telling his mother about Dakota the same way they hadn’t talked about so many important things.

  Jogging over to the cab of the truck, Dakota directed the movers to pull the truck around to the front of the house between the house and the old barn.

  He dialed Bryce as he watched them deftly maneuver the eighteen-wheeler into the spot.

  “Yeah, hey,” he said when Bryce picked up. “The truck’s here already.”

  “Shit.”

  “Tell me about it. What’s your ETA?”

  Bryce sighed into the phone. “The plane was delayed. They’re not even supposed to land for another ninety minutes.”

  Great. That meant at least three hours before Bryce got back.

  Four men exited the cab and moved to the back of the truck. The back gate rumbled open, and Dakota saw boxes and furniture stacked to the ceiling. Fabulous.

  Dakota ran a hand through his hair, and stared off into middle distance, thinking.

  “D?” Bryce asked. “Want to tell them to go get some food or something? Wait until we get back?”

  The movers rolled two moving dollies down the ramp and looked over at Dakota.

  “No. I’ll figure something out. Call me when you’re leaving the airport.”

  “Okay. Do what you have to.”

  “There’s a lot of stuff, Bryce. Like, a lot. I thought you said your mom didn’t have that much?”

  “That’s what she said. She told me she only took the bare minimum.”

  Dakota walked to the truck and peered into the dim depths. He could make out at least two couches, a big table, and a few carpets rolled up and propped against the walls. “Yeah. We have a trying to fit ten pounds of crap into a five-pound bag situation.”

  Bryce groaned. “Can’t we tell them to just take it back? Dump it in the woods somewhere?”

  “Tell your mom they got robbed somewhere along the way?”

  Bryce laughed. “Excellent plan.”

  Dakota snorted. “I’ll figure it out. Wait for your mom.”

  “Hey, aren’t you Bryce Lowery?” a man’s voice asked, apparently close enough to the phone for Dakota to hear.

  Bryce ignored him. “Okay. Do whatever you have to. I left cash on the counter for tips or pizza or whatever.”

  “Can I get your autograph for my kid?” the guy asked in the background.

  “I’m on the phone,” Bryce answered the guy testily.

  “Your public wants you,” Dakota said.

  “My public can wait,” he answered. “You good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Okay. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  “I heard you were retiring? Are you moving to Colorado?” Dakota heard the annoying stranger ask.

  Bryce inhaled, and Dakota could picture the irritated expression on his face. “Could you give me a moment to finish this call?” Bryce said, presumably to the guy.

  The man grumbled som
ething angry sounding and walked away.

  “Sorry,” Bryce apologized to Dakota.

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Not so much out here.”

  One of the movers walked over to Dakota, carrying a clipboard. “Hey, man. Can we get started?”

  “I gotta go,” Dakota said into the phone. “Get your mom. Hurry back. But drive safely!”

  “Very funny. I will.”

  It felt like they should say something more than just goodbye, but what? Dakota realized this was their first phone conversation. “Well, okay. Uh, see you later.”

  “Yeah. Later,” Bryce said.

  The silence hung on the line. Dakota heard the hum of airport crowds. Not sure what else to say, he hung up.

  “Should we start unloading?” the head mover asked Dakota.

  Dakota tapped the phone against his teeth. He had friends, right? He scrolled through his contacts. There were people he could call. When was the last time he had seen some of these people except when he’d dropped food off at the co-op?

  He couldn’t call out of the blue and ask for favors. He still owed a lot of them for helping out after Tommy’s death. He felt bad asking for yet another favor, but Bryce was depending on him.

  The mover raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the truck.

  “Can you give me twenty minutes?” Dakota asked.

  The guy shrugged. “It’s your dime, man. We get paid by the hour. Do what you want.”

  “Thanks.” Dakota dialed Lori. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Lori. I need some help. How quickly can you gather the troops?”

  21

  Dakota

  Lori dropped the grocery bags onto the granite-topped island in the middle of the kitchen. “So, Dustin and the guys are moving stuff into the barn?” she asked. A tie-dyed bandana covered her hair, and she wore jeans instead of her normal long skirt.

  “Yeah.” Dakota watched the movers stack boxes almost to the ceiling. “I’m going to put all of Tommy’s furniture and as much as we can box up safely in there. Then the movers can put Bryce’s mom’s stuff in the house.”

  Two guys from the co-op entered the house, grabbed some boxes, and, with a nod to Lori, left again.

  “It was cool of them to help on such short notice.”

  “They’re still your friends even though you’ve become a hermit.” Lori opened the fridge and frowned at the empty shelves. “What has this guy been eating? There’s no food.”

  Dakota shrugged and busied himself unloading a bag.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Lori said, her tone setting off alarms in Dakota’s head. “But weren’t you two supposed to be deciding on what to do with all Tommy’s things before the movers got here.”

  “They’re early,” Dakota answered, not untruthfully.

  “Uh-huh.” Lori slapped a hand down on the canvas grocery bag, trapping Dakota’s arm inside it. “You’ve been pretty stingy with information about this guy. You even told me not to come over. ‘Give him a chance to get settled.’ And yet…” she looked pointedly around the foodless kitchen. “It doesn’t look like anybody’s been living here. So, what’s going on? Did you chase him away?”

  Dakota checked behind him to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. He leaned in closer to Lori. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Eyes sparkling, she freed Dakota’s arm. She jumped up onto the counter, heels kicking against the cabinets. “Tell me everything.”

  Lori sat on the counter, scrolling through Dakota’s phone at pictures of Bryce. He hadn’t realized he’d taken so many. There were pictures of Bryce in the house, on the farm, with the dogs, and, Dakota’s favorite, holding Clarice. He took the phone from Lori and made that one his screensaver.

  “Oh my God,” Lori squealed. “You’ve seen this guy naked?”

  Dakota nodded. “Oh, yeah. Several times.”

  “Does he have a huge dick?” Lori looked up at him. “Please tell me he has a huge dick?”

  “Does who have a huge dick?” a voice asked from behind them.

  “Your mom,” Lori answered.

  “Hey, Dustin.” Dakota shoved Lori. “What’s up?”

  Dustin frowned at Lori. “That doesn’t even make sense.” He held a large photo album.

  “And you’re surprised by that?” Dakota asked.

  Dustin shrugged. “Guess not.”

  “What’s up?” Dakota liked Dustin a lot. A tall, skinny guy with piercings in his lip, eyebrow, and nose, and wide gauges stretching out his earlobes, he ran the food co-op that bought a lot of Dakota’s produce and was one of his oldest friends. Dakota had a suspicion he and Lori hooked up on a semi-regular basis, but she would neither confirm nor deny the charge.

  Dustin handed Dakota the album. “Found this under the couch. I figured the barn wasn’t the best spot for it. We’re finished with the living room. What do you want us to do next?”

  Dakota took the album. “I don’t even know. There’s so much stuff.”

  “I was thinking we could move the kitchen and dining room tables out on the front porch.”

  Lori hopped off the counter. “Good idea. We’d have to do it for Friendsgiving, anyway. Might as well do it now.”

  “Are we doing that this year?” Dustin asked. “I wasn’t sure. We hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

  Dakota paled. Oh, man. He hadn’t even thought about their annual Thanksgiving celebration. It would be his first one without Tommy. Traditionally, it was the biggest event of the year. They lined the closed-in front porch with tables, invited everyone they knew and then some, and cooked and ate for two days straight.

  Hadn’t Bryce said something about his family coming for Thanksgiving? Damn it.

  “Of course we’re having it,” Lori answered, as Dakota stood frozen like a deer in the headlights. “And Pizza Prep Party, too.”

  Dustin shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Sweet.”

  “Thanks, man,” Dakota said. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m gonna order some pizza and food, pick up some beer. You have any requests?”

  Dustin waved his hand. “You know what I like. I trust you.”

  Lori waited until Dustin was out of earshot, then turned back to Dakota. “So, your new stud?”

  Dakota sighed and flipped the photo album open. He knew Lori well enough to know she wouldn’t let it drop. “Yes. He has a big dick.”

  “Awesome.” She craned her neck to look at the album.

  Dakota rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t even roll your eyes at me. You’re a size queen. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Ok.” She jumped off the counter. “Maybe not everyone.” She pointed at a photo of a young Dakota sitting on the seat of a green tractor. “Aw, look how cute you were.”

  “I’m still cute.” Dakota turned and leaned against the cabinets. “You can’t let him know you know about us.”

  Lori frowned, eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you that?”

  Dakota knew she was thinking about Kyle and the way he’d made Dakota hide their relationship.

  “No. He didn’t. But, come on. I’m the first guy he’s ever been with. And it’s been a week. Give the guy some time to process. Let him come out to his family at his own pace, okay? Plus, it doesn’t matter. He’s leaving in a few months, anyway.”

  Lori sighed. “Fine.” She looked back at the phone and her eyebrows raised. “He’s rich, your boy.” She turned the phone so Dakota could see an old article.

  Bryce had apparently signed a multi-million dollar five-year contract a few years ago. Dakota felt like he was invading Bryce’s privacy, even if it was public information. “Give me that.” He took the phone back.

  Lori, of course, went right to the question that had been burning at the back of Dakota’s mind all week. “Do you think he can save the orchard?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Based on zero information, he thinks he can. He’s ve
ry…” Dakota stared at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “Very confident and determined.”

  “That’s not a surprise. So have you told him any of your ideas for the place?”

  “No.”

  Lori grabbed his hand. “They’re good ideas. I think they could work.”

  Dakota wished he had her confidence in himself. His idea was to partner with the agricultural department in the University to do research on heirloom fruits and vegetables. You couldn’t just plant the seeds from one variety of apple and then expect to get a tree with those apples a few years later. Apples were a complex hybrid. You never knew what kind of apple you were going to get from the seeds.

  The only way to ensure you got a tree—or even a branch—that bore the apple you wanted was to graft a part of the tree you wanted to a tree you already had. The old trees in Tommy’s orchard would be perfect for grafting.

  Dakota had read that the University was looking to do research on all kinds of heirloom varieties of fruits and vegetables; ones that most modern consumers didn’t even know had ever existed. He’d spent more than one evening reading about apples with names like Northern Spy, Hidden Rose, Ashmead’s Kernel, and the Knobbed Russet, which was an ugly, lumpy fruit with skin like a toad’s.

  Kyle had dismissed his idea, calling it unprofitable and a waste of time. Who cared about old apples that nobody sold anymore anyway? “There must have been a reason no one sells them,” Kyle had said. “Brighter men than you have decided what to grow here. Let’s stick to their plan, alright?”

  “I don’t know,” Dakota said to Lori. “What do I know about running an orchard anyway?”

  “More than anyone else. You’ve lived here your whole life, and you’ve been managing the orchard alone for the last year.”

  Dakota scoffed and flipped a page in the old album. A picture of Tommy and his mother laughing at the camera and raising their glasses in a toast stared out at him. He shut the book with a sigh.