by BA Tortuga
“She’s late on a number of bills. She’s been sent to collections.”
Could you send a dead woman to collections? “I see. Are you a collections agency?”
“We are, and any information we gather will be used by—”
He hung up the phone. He couldn’t deal with this shit right now.
Curtis was frowning. “Who was that, baby?”
“No one.” He handed Curtis the milk.
“You hung up on them. Salesman?” One eyebrow rose to Curtis’s hairline.
“Something like that, yeah. Bill collectors are unwelcome folks, for sure.” The phone started ringing again.
“So we’ll unplug. It’s unnatural to call anyone this close to Christmas.” Curtis walked over to turn off the ringer.
“Yes.” That was a good idea. Anyone who needed it had his cell number. He ought to just turn the damn thing off altogether.
“What were we doing?” Curtis grabbed his hand.
“Dancing. We were dancing and making hot chocolate.” Good things. Not worrying.
“We were.” Curtis pulled him close, then stepped him in a fast swing to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” Lord, he hadn’t known he’d remembered how to do that. Curtis could cut a rug.
They ended up laughing and breathless on the couch, the fire burning low. That was the Christmas spirit. Not some stupid bill collector.
This was real. This was love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE PHONE had been ringing off the hook.
Curtis hadn’t said anything before Christmas, but they were fixing to get into the New Year, and he didn’t want Stetson to drag this stress with him if he didn’t have to.
So when the phone rang next and Stetson was out shoveling the path to the barn, Curtis answered.
“Hello?”
“We’re trying to reach Miss Betty Major.”
“I’m sorry, she passed away. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s deceased. Can I ask who this is? What are you calling in regards to?” He could remember his mom handling these calls when his grandpa died, and he kept his tone calm. He was gonna have to call a lawyer about what Stetson needed to do.
“Are you the executor?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Curtis hedged his bets. He knew enough to lie until he could get some names and numbers.
“Well, this is a creditor, and I’m required by law to tell you we’re trying to collect a debt.”
“Yes, ma’am, I understand that. What debt and who’s calling?”
“We’ve got a hospital bill here for $39,549, sir. Are you going to make this bill right?”
“As I’m sure you know, I have a right to a statement of my mother’s account in writing. Once the estate has all the information it needs to proceed, then action will be determined.” He said it by rote, grateful to his mom and to his contract lawyer, Paul, who’d told him over and over never to agree to any damn thing on the phone.
Forty thousand dollars. Damn. That was a chunk of change. He listened to the little voice on the other end of the line, getting more and more aggravated.
“You send that bill on in the mail.” He hung up, because, damn, those people were a nightmare. Then he found his favorite contacts and keyed up Paul Davidson. The lawyer lived and worked in Dallas and was a shark in a cowboy hat and Wranglers.
Curtis kind of adored him.
“Paul Davidson’s office.”
“Hey, Shelly. It’s Curtis Traynor. Is Paul in?”
“Let me make sure he’s not on a call, honey. He’s always in for you.” She put him on hold, the strains of a Muzak version of a George Strait song making him groan.
“What the hell do you want, Mr. Traynor? Aren’t you supposed to be on break?”
“I am on break, buddy. I Christmassed until my jeans don’t fit. I just need to pick your brain.”
“Surely. Shoot.”
“A friend of mine just had his mom pass away. He’s got bill collectors trying to get medical bills. A passel.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
“There any life insurance? Any assets?”
“Uh.” He had no idea. Stetson had said there was enough life insurance to bury her. “I know she was sick a while. I bet she turned it all over to Stetson a long time ago.”
“You find that out first. Find out the details and then holler. Assuming your buddy wasn’t stupid, we can take care of this easy.”
Relief flooded him. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Congratulations on the win, by the way. You did it.”
“I did.” He let himself feel the pride of it. “I didn’t really think I would.”
“I never doubted you. Holler when you have all the details, buddy. I have another call coming in.”
“You got it.” He hung up, tickled as a pig in shit. He could help Stetson with this. Ease the load.
Speak of the devil, in he walked, covered in snow and shivering.
“Hey, you. Get in here by the fire.” Curtis trotted over to tug Stetson all the way in.
“I was sweating my ass off until ten seconds ago, swear to God.”
“Right. You stopped working. That’s the danger zone.” He tugged off Stetson’s jacket so he could start rubbing those cold arms.
“No shit on that. I got it cleared, though.”
Damn, were Stetson’s lips blue? “Jesus. You need a shower. I’ll start the hot water.”
“I just got the path shoveled. That’s all. I do it every year.”
“Honey, last year you had another thirty pounds on you. I’ve seen pictures.”
“I guess….” Stetson shivered, and that was that. He took Stetson back to the bathroom, getting the water going.
“Sit on the pot. I need to take your boots off.”
Stetson sat. Blinking at him.
He eased off the boots and rubbed those red feet. God, that was ridiculous. He was going to get them better socks before Stetson lost his toes. The winter was bitter this year, as if the earth knew about Miz Betty.
“Oh, burns. Damn.” Stetson began to pant softly.
“Yeah, and we got to get the blood flowing again before we stick you in hot water.” He didn’t think they needed lukewarm foot baths or anything, but damn.
“I wasn’t out long.”
“Uh-huh. It’s bitter and fixin’ to snow again.” Once he felt like Stetson’s heart wouldn’t explode the minute he got them in the water, he hauled his lover up off the pot and stripped him down. Socks, towel warmer, maybe a portable heater for the bathroom. Fuzzy towels and the world’s softest bath mat too.
He didn’t figure Stetson would mind him redoing the bath a little. The guest bath, now, it needed a total overhaul. All those roses.
“What are you thinking on so hard, cowboy?”
“Roses.” He got naked so he could push them both under the spray. “And about how we need some new bath stuff.”
“Roses? It’s too early to plant more, and God knows Momma has a bunch in the ground.”
“More like the ones on the shower curtain in the guest bath.” He didn’t want to overstep, because Stetson needed time, but man, those were old roses.
“You mean the scary bathroom, huh? That’s been there since I was in elementary school.”
“Oh.” He scrubbed Stetson’s arms gently to keep the blood moving. “Is it special?”
Stetson looked at him, shrugged. “You don’t know what it was like there, before I took her to the hospital.” Stetson never called it a nursing home. Never. “If you moved anything—anything at all—she’d start screaming. Then she wanted things moved back like they’d been twenty years ago. It got to where I was scared to touch anything. I blocked off my side of the house so she wouldn’t go tear my things up while I was working.”
“Oh, Roper.” He couldn’t even imagine that. Constantly having to tiptoe around your own home for fear of upsetting someone you couldn’t
even be mad at….
“Part of me wants to burn this fucking house to the ground. Part of me wants to leave it like she did. Part of me wants to have a huge yard sale and make it something new.” Stetson’s eyes went all shimmery, and he lifted his face to the spray. “All of me hates how it ended up with her. It ain’t right. I wanted her to go, by the end. She starved to death.”
Curtis just took Stetson in his arms, holding on tight. Christ, he should have been there. But Stetson needed what Curtis could give now too. He needed a new start.
“I think this—you, you being here, loving on me—I think this was the last thing she gave to me.”
Now it was his turn to feel the sting of tears. “Then she did good by both of us, baby. Real good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Stetson rested them together, relaxing against him and trusting Curtis would hold him.
He would. Curtis so would, for as long as the good Lord let him.
Maybe longer. He was a stubborn son of a bitch, after all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“ROPER, WE need to talk.”
Stetson looked up from the piles of bills on the table, and this time he was too fucking sad to even turn the top page over and hide them. “What’s up?”
“We got to deal with this shit. All these papers and stuff.”
“I’m trying.” Stetson’s head began to throb.
“I know you are.” Curtis pulled out a chair and sat. “I got a lawyer friend willing to help. But I need to know what’s what.”
Lord, he didn’t know. He didn’t. At this point, there was so much paper with red letters screaming that he didn’t know what was important, what they were going to get him for. What to do. “I….”
Fuck, how do you tell the current number one rodeo cowboy on earth that you ain’t been paid for anything for fifteen months? That you don’t know what’s gonna happen now that Momma’s SSI is gone?
“Well, first we need to sort out the medical bills.” Curtis nodded, as if that was that. Maybe it was. They needed a direction to go, right?
“There’s tons of them. Boxes. This pile’s from this month.”
“Okay.” Curtis stared at the pile. “You got any old file folders?”
“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I do. From when my business was going good.” Stetson got up and went to the coat closet and pulled down a box. Lord, the dust.
Curtis grinned. “I bet that picks up again.”
“I sure hope so. I got nothing else to offer.” Nothing else felt as good either.
“Hush with that. That’s a lot. You’re good at it. Okay, so we need a folder for the medical bills, one for house stuff, and one for anything else.” Curtis must have been reading organizing shit online.
He pulled out a couple of the files, smiling as he found sketches, notes on vigas and mantels and custom work.
“Can we combine these into a few bigger folders?” Curtis asked, watching him, those blue eyes happy.
“Sure. They’re old. I don’t know why I kept them, you know? Just notes.” Just happiness.
“Hey, I love how you look when you see them.”
“I did good work.” It wasn’t what Curtis did, but it lasted longer than any ride ever had.
“Yeah.” Curtis took the folders he handed over. “I’ll start with this stack.”
“Okay.” He sorted, a dull shame filling him. He should have been able to do this, to cope with this shit. He wasn’t an idiot, dammit.
“Hey.” When he glanced up, Curtis was staring at him intently. “Stop it. I can see your lips all pursing.”
“Shut up. I am not.”
“Are too.”
He stuck out his tongue. That ought to keep his lips from wrinkling up.
“Don’t put it out there unless you want to use it,” Curtis said.
“That’s way more fun than sorting bills….”
“It is. Let’s get this one month done and I’ll reward you.”
Now, that was an incentive.
“Yeah, I could handle that.” Hell, he felt like they both spent hours fixing the barn or feeding or hauling wood, not playing. Curtis was having a ball playing rancher, just like all rodeo folks did when they could.
The best part was that Curtis was good at it. Genuinely. He cowboyed right on up, dragging his ass through the mud right alongside Stetson. Curtis was adjusting to the altitude and the cold, and a few days ago, he’d made Stetson go down to Santa Fe and go to the Target. Socks. Long undies. Bath mats and a shower curtain. New towels.
New coffee maker and pans.
Curtis was spoiling him.
Stetson knew how quick the prize money could go, though, so he was trying to keep Curtis—“Ow!”
Curtis pinched the shit out of his arm. “You need to get your mind in the middle, baby.”
“I was! It wasn’t the same middle, maybe, but….”
“Nope. Sorting. Then bedroom. Keep up.”
“Sorting. Then bedroom. Right. Got it.” Butthead.
Curtis beamed. “That’s it.”
He leaned over to try and get a kiss, when the sound of tires on gravel sounded. “I’m going to chain the gate across the drive.”
“No shit. It’s like a madhouse around here still.” Curtis swept the papers and folders into the box to tuck it away. Good man.
Stetson peered through the front room window, frowning at the sight of the little Smart car in the driveway. “Isaac?”
What in the world was Isaac Key doing here? He hadn’t seen that man in… four years?
Isaac stood there, shifting foot to foot. It had to be cold in those sleek Italian leather loafers.
“Lord, man. What are you doing here?” Stetson asked after he opened the door.
“I heard about your mom. I brought doughnuts and beer.” Isaac held up a six-pack of Fat Tire.
“Well, come in before you freeze.”
“Thanks. I had an unexpected day off, so I thought, I’m coming to see him.”
Isaac stepped inside, almost going ass over teakettle when he hit the floor. Slick.
“Take those ridiculous shoes off, huh? I’ll get an extra pair of socks.”
“Babe?”
He smiled at Curtis, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I don’t know if you remember Isaac. We went to high school together, and I think when you and I were hooked up, he was in his crazy Rocky-Mountain-high artist phase with these rainbow-colored dreads.”
“I know, right? I went all corporate. My mom is so ashamed.” Isaac held out a hand to Curtis. “Curtis Traynor, right? I’m Isaac Key.”
Curtis smiled easily, but it was his fan smile, not his deep eye lines one. “Pleasure.”
“Well, probably not. But someone isn’t answering his phone, and someone is a butthead, and this is what you get, ignoring your best friend. You get boyfriendus interruptus. Suck it up. Seriously, man. I was worried you’d…. Well, done something stupid.”
Christ on a crutch, listening to Isaac was like having a tropical bird in your house.
Curtis relaxed a little. “Come on, seriously. I’ll get the socks; you get some coffee, babe.”
“Oh. Oh, I have doughnuts, which totally go with coffee!”
Stetson started chuckling, and that turned into deep, hard laughter.
Isaac patted his shoulder, looking more than a little worried, but Curtis just snorted at him before heading to the bedroom. Shit, that felt good.
“So, seriously. You cannot just fall off the face of the earth. I worry.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, huh. It’s just been a… rough time.”
“You didn’t call me at Christmas, even.”
How did he say that he hadn’t even thought of Isaac? That his entire brain had been Curtis, Momma, and bills?
Finally he just spread his hands. “I suck. I’m sorry.”
“No. I mean, no feeling sucky. I was just scared.” Isaac came to him, hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry, man. I am.”
“Go take your
coat off, Isaac.”
“Okay. Should I go? I don’t want to—”
He put a hand on Isaac’s chest. “Go. Take your coat. Off.”
“Right. It’s good to see you. You need to eat more. I love your hair.”
“Okay.” His hair? What was different about his hair?
“Dude, you don’t even know? It’s all shaggy and streaked with silver. I love it.”
“Oh.” He clenched his hands to keep from reaching up to feel his hair. Wouldn’t do any good.
“It’s a great look for him, huh?” Curtis returned with socks, herding them into the kitchen.
“Totally. I bet it makes a great handhold in bed too.”
He whipped around, staring at Isaac, who just fluttered his eyelashes.
“What? Just making an observation.”
“Well, stop it.” Curtis scowled, a damn intimidating look on his cowboy, which, okay. Hot. Like nuclear. Like he was going to have to stand in front of the fridge or step outside for a second.
“Sorry.” Isaac tried for contrite. Not convincing.
“Liar.” Curtis handed over the socks. “I’m not sure what your situation was, but Stetson’s activities in our bed are not yours to worry on. We clear?”
Stetson just sat there with his teeth in his mouth, his dick taking a marked interest.
Isaac, God love him, blinked hard a few times before nodding slowly, a huge smile spreading over his face. “Got it.”
“Good.”
“You know how to work one of these fancy-assed coffee makers, man?” Stetson had better things to do than make coffee right now.
“A Keurig? Indeed I do.”
“Cool.” He grabbed Curtis’s hand and muscled his lover down the hall, slamming their mouths together as soon as they got near to the bedroom door.
Curtis kissed him back, giving as good as he got. Those lean hands landed on his ass, holding on.
Fuck yes. He didn’t know, exactly, why he was on fire, but he was, and Curtis wasn’t spraying him with cold water, so he’d go with it.
Hell, Curtis was pushing him into the bedroom and closing the door behind them.
He moaned for his man, one hand working between them to cup Curtis’s balls. Curtis went up on tiptoes, grunting, the kiss going a little toothy. Someone really did like that touch. So he did it again, then once more.
