Will wrapped his fingers around the top board of the fence and stared at his hands for a moment before turning back to Joe. “The farm’s a great example. ’Cause I’ve seen you before a cattle drive or haying or any big job where other people are involved. You hate asking, you insist on paying everyone but me—which means they’re not helping you, they’re working for you— and you fuss around this place like a general preparing for D-Day, making sure everything’s going to go smoothly so no one’s inconvenienced.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t let people close to you. I mean, it’s great that you’re independent. Great that you can look after yourself. But it makes it hard for other people to… I don’t know. People want to be equal, right? It’s not equal if you’re giving all the time and we’re only ever taking.”
“You’re really on an anti-Joe kick, aren’t you?” Joe stepped away from the fence, far enough so he knew he wouldn’t be able to take a swing at his brother if the next lines out of his mouth were as frustrating as the last ones had been. “I’m a pathetic loser who can’t look after himself or get laid without your help, people can’t get close to me, I need to change and be more like you are because there’s something wrong with the way I am now. Is that a pretty good summary of this conversation? No, wait, is it a pretty good summary of every conversation we’ve had over the past couple weeks?” He shook his head and took another step backward. “I have no idea why you’ve suddenly got a problem with me. But you need to back the fuck off before I start having a problem with you. Okay?” Will’s mouth opened, but no words came out, which was just as well. “You want me to ask for help? Okay, here goes: it’d help me out if you’d back off with this shit. You want to sit over there and judge me? Fine, go for it. But don’t bring your judgments to me and expect me to act on them. You want us to be more equal? Stop asking me to do stupid shit. If you don’t want my help, don’t ask me to check the church roof or hang your fucking tarp because you’re scared of heights. Okay? Instead of me changing to be more like you, maybe you could change to be more like me. Or maybe we could both just be ourselves and leave the other one alone.”
Joe turned back to the horse. He was pretty sure his brother stood there for a while longer, but by the time Misery finished her treat and Joe retrieved the bucket, Will was gone.
Joe put the bucket away, checked the barn, and made his way back to the house, trying to think peaceful thoughts. Sarah was sitting in the old rocker on the front porch, watching Austin slap dandelions with a miniature golf club.
“Where’s Ally?” Joe asked, settling onto the porch steps at Sarah’s feet. “It was her turn to babysit.”
Sarah gave Joe a strange look. Maybe his tone had been a bit accusing, because she sounded defensive when she said, “She did, most of the day. But there’s a barbecue tonight over at the Waltons’, and she wanted to go.”
“The Waltons?” Mrs. Walton had come to pick the kids up the morning after they’d arrived. She hadn’t discussed the reason the kids had needed to sleep over, just thanked Joe and Will for their hospitality and said she hoped the kids hadn’t been too much trouble. It was a strange situation, and a part of Joe wanted to do something more, but a bigger part told him it was just the way the world went: families weren’t perfect, but that didn’t mean they should be torn apart completely. Still, Joe wasn’t sure he wanted his baby sister spending a lot of time in that atmosphere.
And Sarah seemed to sense his hesitation. “It’s not fair to the Walton kids if we treat them like a leper colony. Ally knows to come home if things get weird. And it’s usually a few weeks, at least, between benders, right?”
Joe sighed and forced his shoulders to relax. “She’s got her phone? Do they get coverage over there?”
“Better than we do. Good enough for a quick call. You’re home tonight? You can go over if she needs you?”
“I’m going to be hanging out in the tree line spying on them with binoculars.”
“You’ve got Austin too. I’m not sure he’d be much good at wilderness surveillance.”
And as if to prove her point, Austin looked up from the weed he was about to destroy and greeted the new arrival to the porch with a joyful yell. “Joe! Joe! I hit the dandidelions! I’m helping!”
“You sure are, buddy. Keep at it.” Joe looked toward the parking area and then up at Sarah. “Will’s gone? And you’re heading home? It’s just me and the little man for dinner?”
Sarah nodded. “We ate that chicken for lunch, so if that was your plan, you’d better find another.” She looked at him for longer than was usual, then said, “Did you and Will have a fight? He was a bit weird when he left.”
Joe thought about it. “Not a fight, really. I think he’s just kind of… I don’t know. I guess I’m not being who he wants me to be.”
Sarah frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Will. I think he just wants you to be you, doesn’t he?”
“Apparently not. Seems like there’s a pretty long list of things I’m doing wrong.” Joe ran one hand through his hair, front to back, then back to front, leaving it feeling ruffled and spiky. Maybe he wasn’t being fair. “He wants me to be happy. I get that. He just….” Joe twisted around so he could look at his sister more directly. “People are built different, right? Like horses are. We don’t have to know exactly what’s going on in Misery’s brain to know she’s best on her own. We’ve tried putting her in with other horses, and she just beats the crap out of them or comes up against someone tougher than her and gets beat up but won’t back down. She’s not… it’s not a question of whether she’s happy or not. It’s just what she’s suited to. She’s not a horse that does well in a herd. It doesn’t do any good to keep pushing her at other horses. She’s a loner. That’s the way she is.”
Sarah nodded quietly. Then she slid off her chair and settled next to Joe on the step. “That’s the way she is,” she agreed softly. “The thing is, Joe, I don’t think it’s the way you are. I mean, if I look back to all the times I’ve seen you being really, really happy—you’re with other people. The family, mostly, but Trevor too. You guys got along really well. You were happy with him. Right?”
“You can’t see me being really happy when I’m alone because you’re not there, Sarah. That’s what alone means.”
“No,” she said confidently. “I don’t buy it. I mean, I believe you’re happy on your own. But I know you’re happy with other people too. You’re not like Misery.” She leaned over enough to rest her head on his shoulder, and they were quiet together for a while, watching their nephew wage war on the yellow invaders. Then Sarah said, “You never talk about Trevor. He was just around one day and then he was gone. What happened?”
Sarah’s voice was tentative; she knew she was treading on dangerous ground. But enough time had passed now, and Joe just sighed. “We wanted different things.”
“He’s moved down to the city, right?”
“Yeah.”
“He wanted you to go with him?”
“Yeah.”
“And you couldn’t. Ally was only sixteen, Austin was three. You had commitments here. You gave up on that because of the family, and you wonder why me and Will feel guilty about not giving up on stuff? Why Will isn’t sure he should be moving in with Lindsey and leaving you alone with the kids? When Mom and Dad died, you and Will could have given up on us, shipped us off to relatives or foster care or whatever. When Austin was born, you could have told Nick to put him up for adoption or take care of him himself, but you didn’t. You’ve given up a lot for this family, Joe, and it makes us sad that you had to give up on Trevor too.”
“I didn’t give up on Trevor because of the family,” Joe said firmly. “I meant it: he and I wanted different things. He wanted to go to the city; I wanted to stay on the farm. Seriously, Sarah, can you see me in the city? Not visiting for the weekend, but living down there? No horses, no space, trying to get Red to walk on a leash and not beat up every new dog he meets, swimming in a chlorinated, peed-i
n pool instead of a lake, everyone crammed in together and hating each other….” He shrugged his shoulder enough that Sarah had to straighten up, then turned so he could look at her. “I love my family, and it’s absolutely part of the appeal of this place. But I didn’t give up on some big-city dream, Sarah. I like it here. This is where I want to live. There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about.” He frowned. “And I haven’t given up anything for this family. The family’s a good thing. Keeping us all together, taking care of Austin… that’s good stuff. It’s stuff I wanted to do, not stuff I had to.”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I believe that. But it’s all you want?” Her raised eyebrows gave Joe the warning he needed before she said, “You don’t even want to get laid, Joe?”
Having that conversation with Will was bad enough. There was no way he would have it with his little sister.
But apparently Sarah didn’t feel quite the same level of discomfort that Joe did. “Come on, Joey! It’d make me and Will feel so much better if you’d get a little action. You’d be more relaxed, we’d be more relaxed. It’d be good for everyone.” She grinned as Joe tried to squirm away, wrapping her thin arm around his broad shoulders. “Seriously, Joe, you’ve convinced me that you’re not really making many sacrifices for the family, so it’s about time you started! And you can do that by going against your better judgment and getting yourself a piece of ass. Will has found a suitable candidate for you, but I’m willing to be a bit more flexible. I won’t specify who you need to bone, I just want you to get out there and get laid. By anyone. Just once is fine, although I think once you try it you’re going to remember you kind of like it….”
“This is not an appropriate conversation,” Joe protested. He raised his voice a little. “Austin! Austin! Your aunt’s being crazy! Come save me!”
Austin ran over, giggling, and he wrestled Sarah away from Joe and then shrieked as she held him by his ankles and turned him upside down. Joe sat back and watched. This was what he loved. It was what he wanted. But maybe, just maybe, Sarah had a point. Maybe there was room in his life for just a little bit more.
Chapter 5
IT WAS probably crossing a line. But Mackenzie had searched his soul, and he was sure his intentions were as pure as the organic, handcrafted chocolates on the seat next to him. He wasn’t trying to seduce Joe Sutton; he just wanted to thank him. And maybe get to see that glowing smile just one more time. And if the smiling led to laughing, and laughing led to touching…. Okay, his intentions weren’t completely pure. But even the chocolates had gooey caramel centers.
Will Sutton had given him directions to the farm, but he’d been a bit hesitant about it, and Mackenzie really wasn’t sure why. Had spending time with Mackenzie made the contractor change his mind about matchmaking? That was a bit insulting. But Will had been nothing but friendly and helpful, both at the church and at the chamber of commerce meeting the night before. Maybe Mackenzie had imagined the reluctance.
He came to a long gravel driveway, just as Will had described—the only opening in a dense patch of forest at the road. But the trees soon thinned, and Mackenzie found himself driving between two large fields, both with tall grass waving in the breeze. After that the driveway was lined with a post-and-rail fence, horses grazing peacefully on one side, and finally Mackenzie could see the house. Or the homestead, maybe, because this really did feel like something out of the Old West. A big, old wooden house with a wraparound porch, several small outbuildings Mackenzie wanted to believe were bunkhouses for the cowhands, and a hulking barn perched halfway up a gently sloping hill. The property wasn’t palatial, but it seemed prosperous enough. Well cared for without being overly manicured. It felt like a home, Mackenzie decided.
He pulled into a broader patch of gravel next to the pickup he recognized as Joe’s, then gave himself a moment to deal with the flash of self-doubt. Was he invading the man’s privacy?
No, this was just a social call. How many people had knocked on the church door and invited themselves in since Mackenzie had arrived? This was the country way of doing things.
He grabbed his chocolates and headed for the front door of the house. Then he remembered how many of his visitors had come to the back door of the church. Was that a church-specific custom, or was the front door only used for formal occasions in the country?
He was standing in the gravel, dithering, when he saw a familiar shape up the hill by the barn. Mackenzie had only seen two men with shoulders like that since he’d arrived in Falls Creek, and he’d just left Will working at the church. Mackenzie had found his target.
He was about halfway up the hill when the dogs noticed him. There were three of them, none taller than Griffin but all chunky, solid, farm-dog-looking creatures, and they were approaching at great speed with quite a bit of barking. They probably would have eaten Griffin for breakfast. It was entirely possible they were about to eat Mackenzie for breakfast.
“Hey!” came an authoritative voice from up the hill. “Knock it off.”
The dogs stopped running and barking, at least, but they still stared at Mackenzie with malevolent fascination. He forced himself to keep walking and tried to look nonchalant about it all.
“Hi!” he called, and one of the dogs, a grizzled, old reddish-brown brute, growled as if Mackenzie had just insulted his mother.
“Hi,” Joe said, walking down the hill toward him. Joe tickled the top of the angry dog’s head with his fingers as he passed, and the animal responded as if the man had flipped a switch on his personality. The rage disappeared and was replaced by indifference as the dog trailed along, his gaze on his master as if waiting for the next command. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” Mackenzie said. He didn’t plan to take his eyes off the dogs quite yet, but he managed a quick smile. “I hope you don’t mind my coming out. I just wanted to say thanks, again.” He held out the wrapped box of chocolates Kristen had overnight-mailed from the city. “For helping with Griffin, but even more for your idea about the chamber of commerce.”
“Will said it went well,” Joe said. He took the box from Mackenzie’s hand but held it between two fingers as if it might be full of snakes. Then he held up his other hand, covered in some sort of green slime. “I’m cleaning out the water tanks,” he explained. “The algae grows fast in the heat of the summer.”
“Oh.” Mackenzie really didn’t think he had anything to add to a conversation about water-tank algae. “I guess the work never ends on a place like this.”
There was a moment’s pause that made it clear Joe was thinking about something. Then he wiped his hand on his jeans as if it were symbolic of some great decision. “It’s kind of a relief to know you’ll never be able to finish all the work; it means you don’t have to keep trying to get it all done. So the workday ends when you say it does.” He glanced down at his watch, then made a face. “Or at least you take breaks when you say you should. You want to come down to the house and get something to drink?”
Mackenzie wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the invitation. It was just about exactly what he’d been hoping for. But he still stuttered a bit as he replied, “Uh, yeah, that’d be great, if you have time….”
Joe didn’t answer, just started down the hill toward the house. Mackenzie turned quickly enough to earn a suspicious glare from the obedient dog and followed Joe down the gravel path.
“You stay out,” Joe told the dog, and then he turned to Mackenzie. “He comes in at night, but he’s better off outside during the day.”
It sounded almost like an apology, and Mackenzie quickly said, “Sounds like a good life for a dog. I know Griffin would be outside all day if he could be.”
“You didn’t bring him?”
“I thought about it,” Mackenzie admitted. “But I wasn’t sure of the etiquette. I’d never think of bringing a dog with me to visit someone in the city, so it seemed a bit weird to do it here.”
“Probably just as well. Not because of the etiquette, but because we’d ha
ve to tie Red up. He takes the top dog job pretty seriously.” Joe led the way through a crowded but tidy mudroom into a bright country kitchen. Mackenzie waited while Joe washed his hands in the kitchen sink, then tried to keep his eyes off the man’s denim-clad ass as he leaned over to look in the fridge. “Lemonade, milk, water, or beer,” he said as he straightened. “Or I could brew some iced tea if you’re okay waiting a few minutes. Or regular tea. Or coffee.”
“Whatever you’re having,” Mackenzie said.
Joe checked his watch again, then said, “Too early for beer?”
“It’s past noon. But how much work do you still have to do today?”
Joe shrugged. “I don’t think a few beers will get in the way of my ability to clean water tanks.”
“A few beers, now.” Mackenzie’s good intentions were fading fast. This man was gorgeous, he was finally being friendly, and they were about to consume alcohol together. There was no way Mackenzie would be able to turn off his flirting instinct, and for the first time he was getting the feeling there was a chance of reciprocation. The gaydar that had failed him at the church was suddenly pinging at full strength, and he felt a new sense of confidence. Farm etiquette, angry dogs, and algae might be beyond his experience, but flirting with hot men was his specialty. “This is sounding like more than a little break. I’d better get comfortable.”
“You can get as comfortable as you want.” It should have sounded sleazy, but there was something about the delivery that made the line work. Maybe it was the appreciative gaze Joe was finally sending Mackenzie’s way or the easy, relaxed movements as the man pulled two bottles out of the fridge and twisted off both lids before handing a bottle to Mackenzie. Yeah, something had definitely changed, and whatever it was, Mackenzie liked it. A lot.
“Here?” he asked, running his fingers along the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Outside?” He said the words slowly enough, kept his gaze level enough that it was clear he was wondering about the best location for any activity Joe might want to take part in.
The Fall Page 6
