Home Truths

by Sasha Goldie

  Luckily, this was a relatively boring week. Except for the hot businessman I'd nearly fucked the night before.

  This was going to end badly.

  I powered up the laptop and began my searches, very quickly locating a couple of options. One was more likely than any other. A conservation project was after some land to try the rehabilitation of an endangered species of deer I'd never even heard of. My dad had gotten into setting up tree stands to animal watch, especially as he'd gotten older, but that was one activity he never could get me involved in, no matter how hard he tried. We'd hunted when I was younger, but sitting up in a tree just to look was too much for me.

  Their website told their story, and I skimmed it for more information. They'd raised a bunch of money by getting some celebrity to throw a fundraiser, among other things. If anyone stood a chance of competing with the developers, it was them. Plus, they could sell off a few small parcels of the land to private buyers to make a bit of their money back if they wanted to. I'd probably look into the possibility of buying the land from the cabin to the bluff myself. My mind whirled with the possibilities. Jotting down all the things I'd found, I went up to the house to put on some lunch.

  By the time the canned soup was warm and four grilled cheese sandwiches rested under the warmer, Nate walked in. "Hey," I said. "Come have some lunch."

  "That's very nice of you." He walked in slowly. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sorry." I turned to face him and look him in the eye. "It's not your fault that Old Man Parkson is selling his land. You're just doing your job." I motioned to the chairs for him to have a seat. "Sit, please."

  "What's up?"

  I dished some of the hot tomato soup into his bowl. "Sorry it's just canned soup, but it was easy. I need to run to the store."

  "I love tomato soup and grilled cheese. We ate it all the time when I was a kid." He stood and opened the fridge. "Would you like a water?"

  "Sure." I sat down and sipped my soup, figuring out how to broach the subject of the conservation effort. "Any luck with a place to stay?"

  He snorted. "You know the answer to that."

  "Yeah, I figured. Sorry. I really would like for you to stay here, honestly. I got upset about how casually you threw out the idea of hundreds of homes being added to our county, but please, don't take it personally."

  "It's a little hard not to take it personally when it's my career." He took a bite of his sandwich. "This is amazing. Why does it taste so much better than my grilled cheeses?"

  My secret recipe. "It's a bit of a secret," I said, using air quotes. "It's just mayonnaise instead of butter."

  "Mayo," he said flatly. "That's disgusting."

  I burst out laughing, covering my mouth to hide the big bite of sandwich I'd just taken. "If it's so gross, why are you gobbling it up?"

  "Because it's good. But it sounds awful."

  I'd always used mayo. My dad had as well. "So, I did some research while you were out."

  "Oh, yeah?" He took a few sips of his soup while I drank some water to clear my throat.

  "Yeah, so there's this conservation group that's looking for a large plot of land to try to revive this deer species that's going extinct. I made a list." I pulled it out of my pocket. "There are a few other options there, but the deer people seem the most likely to be able to keep up with the finances you're looking for."

  He read through the list as he chewed. "Maybe." His voice didn't sound convinced. "I'll give them all a call."

  After tucking the list into his pocket, he continued eating.

  That's all I got? He'd check. He wasn't appreciative that I'd taken the time to look for him to have a way to do his job at the same time as helping keep a nice small town from turning into a shitshow. I knew my feelings were a bit petty, but I couldn’t help thinking he could’ve tried harder to find alternative solutions.

  My appetite vanished. I'd been telling myself not to get attached. Not to get fond of him, yet here I was, irrationally disappointed that he hadn't behaved as I'd wanted him to. It was time to create a little distance. "I've got some work to do," I said as I stood and grabbed my plate and bowl. "I'll be in the garage if you need anything."

  After rinsing out my bowl, I left my dishes in the sink. I'd do them later. I didn't feel like being in the kitchen with him anymore. He was just like Scott after all. All flash and no substance. If he'd cared at all about the lives of the people in our town, he would've taken more of an interest in my list, or at least said thanks. He'd probably forget all about the conservation group and the damn land would be auctioned off to a builder.

  A shopping mall would almost be better. Maybe they wouldn't do well and it could be demolished in a few years. Or splitting the land and selling it to several families that wanted a few acres of land each. That wouldn't be too bad. Maybe it would help the town grow more slowly, anyway.

  Progress was fine, but this was craziness.

  9

  Nate

  Ian walked quickly from the room, obviously tense. He really loved his small town. I finished my meal slowly, turning over the idea of the conservation. It would be wonderful if we could've preserved the beauty of the land, but the world was growing at an alarming rate, and people needed homes.

  My phone pinged. Sara.

  Sara: I can’t come till tomorrow. Work is crazy.

  Nate: It’s okay. He’s being nice. The part should be here tomorrow.

  Sara: K. Let me know if you change your mind.

  I went back to the bedroom Ian had let me use, still feeling uneasy about mooching off of him. I didn't see how I had another choice, though. I'd have to find a way to rent a car soon. I really didn't want to borrow one of Ian's, especially since he didn't agree with the end result of my work.

  After getting my laptop set up and my papers spread out on the small desk in the room, I pulled out my cell and called my boss.

  "This is Crissy," she said as if she didn't know it was me calling.

  "Hello, Crissy, this is Nate." Like she didn’t have caller ID.

  "Nate! How's the Parkinson case going?" She got the name wrong, but no way was I correcting her.

  I fiddled with my papers on the desk. "Had a little setback. My car broke down on the way up here."

  "Should've rented one. I've told you that before," she said in a disappointed voice.

  "And you were right. I enjoy driving my car, but it's not worth this delay." Ian’s hospitality couldn’t be matched, but I needed time to work and plan. He was a distraction.

  "You have potential buyers expecting a meeting in three days in Bend. You better be there."

  Damn, she was harsh. "I will be. I've been checking out the town, making notes on questions they might have, checking out local businesses. Talking points. I've also been to the land so I can describe it personally instead of just the topography from the map." I’d made a ton of notes on my phone as I’d walked around looking for a place to rent.

  "Great job. Anything else?"

  Ian's conservation project crossed my mind. "Actually, yeah. I mentioned the sale to one of the locals, and he told me about this nonprofit." I gave her a brief outline of the deer people.

  "Actually, our researchers mentioned them to me and I looked into them before putting the file on your desk. They just don't have the capital to compete. We didn't even invite them to the auction."

  I sighed. "I figured as much, and that's what I told him. Didn't hurt to ask though, right?"

  "Of course not. Ask any time. You never know when you'll have the next great idea." I started to say goodbye, but she continued. "I expect this to go into a bidding war. That's why I put this on your desk. If it goes where I expect it to, and you know I have an eye for this, this will launch your career. You'll never have to worry about making it to the top again."

  "Thanks, Crissy. I really appreciate the vote of confidence. I'll update you in a day or two," I promised, then we disconnected.

  If I let her down, my career would be shot before
it really took off. This was the point that I was supposed to work hard, then it would pay off later with the bigger jobs falling into my lap. Work hard now, play later.

  Ian's disappointment weighed heavily on my mind. I looked at his paper, drumming my fingers on the laptop. At least I could give him enough respect to look it up. I typed in their website and looked all over it, hoping for something that would inspire an idea to make them a viable option for the auction.

  Nothing came to mind. "Damn it."

  Why did I feel guilty about doing my job? It was just a bit of land. There was plenty more to go around. And for all I knew, a private buyer might've won the auction, making the entire argument invalid. There was no sense in me sitting around moping about it, no matter how Ian's disappointed face made me feel. I shouldn't have cared, no, but Ian's disappointed face haunted me.

  The quiet house made it harder for me to focus. I was used to the sounds of the city at my apartment or the busy sounds of my office. Even when I shut my door and drowned it all out, I usually put on some music. I decided to go exploring for a radio of some sort.

  My phone had a perfectly good streaming service on it, and Ian's place had Wi-Fi, so I could've just done that. Really, I was itching to look around and learn a little bit more about Ian. The distraction I didn’t need.

  Starting in the living room, I browsed the books on his shelves. Westerns, a few field manuals. Some instruction manuals on specific engines and vehicles. Instruction volumes on forestry and wildlife. None of this screamed Ian to me, not what I’d learned of him so far.

  I moved on to the entertainment center. Pictures of an older man and woman covered most of it, and a few pictures of Ian as a teen. He was cute when he was younger, but age had been good to him. I liked him better now than then. Although, the one of him in a dress uniform for some branch of the military or another had some serious fap potential. Damn.

  In the corner, lying on its face was a silver frame. I lifted it to look at the picture and found a snapshot of Ian and who could only be Scott. They stared into each other's eyes lovingly, the mountains in the background.

  Why'd he still have that picture out? He had it lying down, maybe he got sick of looking at it. I stood it up, curious if he would even notice I’d moved it.

  Scott had been hot as well, but he looked like drama even in the picture. His hair was perfectly gelled, spiked up in the front in a style I'd never appreciated. I knew good clothes, and his were quality. Designer jeans and shoes. I didn't recognize the shirt, but it was probably expensive. I wondered what he did to afford to up and move to an expensive city after living in the country.

  In contrast, Ian looked like a relaxed, down-to-earth sort of guy. Even in the grainy picture, I noticed a few wrinkles in his AC/DC tee, and his jeans were worn. They looked like the damn Odd Couple.

  "What are you doing?" Ian's voice scared the shit out of me. I whirled around, hand on my heart.

  "Nothing," I gasped, trying to calm my racing heart. "Just looking for a radio or something."

  He pointed wordlessly to the radio sitting on a shelf just below the one I'd been looking at.

  "So, those books?" I looked at the bookshelf. "You like westerns?"

  "That was my dad's." He walked in but didn't sit. He wore coveralls and had grease all over his hands, a blue shop rag in them. Coming close to me, he reached around my shoulders and put the picture of him and Scott back on its face. "Should’ve thrown that out ages ago," he muttered before backing up a little.

  "Did you need something from me?" I asked, curious how he got the door to the house open without slathering it in grease.

  "I just came up to make sure you were okay and didn't need anything. I'm waiting on the oil to drain."

  "Thank you. I'm good." I smiled at him, suddenly sad. We were such different people, but at the core, we already cared about each other and wanted to make the other happy. He'd come to check on me, and I wished I could do something to help him keep his small town small. "I am curious, though. What was your dad's? The whole bookshelf?"

  Ian nodded, walking closer to me in the living room. He stopped by the couch, drawing my eyes to it.

  He followed the direction of my gaze and his cheeks pinkened slightly over his slight stubble. Oh, good. His mind had gone exactly where mine had. To the night we'd given each other the most sensual handjob I'd ever experienced.

  "Yeah, uh, I never messed with it after he died and mom moved."

  I looked around the apartment with a new outlook. The couch looked new, but the wallpaper and carpet looked like it had been installed in the seventies. The place was clean and neat, so I hadn't really paid much mind to the outdated decor. "Your parents lived here?"

  His eyebrows rose. "Of course. Didn't I mention that?"

  "No." Why was he still here? It was like he was stuck in the past, living his dad's life and holding, not moving forward or backward. I couldn't say those words to him. I had no right, we weren't close enough.

  "Yeah, when I left the Marines, I moved back home until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Then dad died, and I took over the business. Which, I love being a mechanic, so it worked out."

  He really had been closed-lipped about his past. But it explained the dress uniform picture. "You were a marine?" Every time I had a conversation with the guy I got more information. But damn, I needed to take a moment to imagine him in fatigues.

  "I see we have more to talk about over dinner. Let me go finish this work. I'll be up in a bit." With a chuckle and a head shake, he left the room. I followed in time to see him use the blue rag to open the door to the stairs. That explained that question.

  I grabbed the radio and plugged it in on the desk. Looking around the room, I pictured it as it had been when he was a kid. The baby blue paint on the walls indicated it had probably been his room. Nothing else looked personal to him, though. He must've completely redone it when he moved to the master bedroom.

  As I swiped my finger over the laptop mouse to wake it up, I wondered where his mom was. He hadn't mentioned her, just his dad. Even though I should've been working on more research of the area, memorizing facts about the land, and researching the bidders, I found myself reading more about the deer conservation nonprofit. They’d taken great strides to raise money to be able to buy a large plot of land. From what I could see, they should’ve had enough money to at least be a possibility for buying the land.

  Before I knew it, I was deep into their website, learning about their fundraisers and efforts to save the beautiful creature.

  10

  Ian

  The sound of my knife hitting the wooden cutting board filled the air until I heard the creak of Nate's bedroom door. He shuffled into the room still wearing his jeans and sweater, but no shoes. I glanced at his feet, oddly affected by having him barefoot in my home when he'd been naked the night before. It felt normal, comfortable. The fact that it felt so right freaked me out a little, but in the best way. It was nice to have someone to cook dinner for. "Hungry?"

  "Yeah. Can I help?"

  I'd already put a lasagna in the oven. "You've been in there a while. I've got a lasagna cooking."

  "I could knock out some garlic bread if you'd like," he offered.

  I nodded and continued chopping carrots for the salad. Working on the car had grounded me and helped me calm down. "I don't know why I get so upset at the idea of Three Lakes changing."

  "I do, I think," he said as the phone rang on the wall beside the counter.

  I reached over and answered. "‘Lo?"

  "Hey, Ian, it’s Duke." Duke’s deep voice was unmistakable. I would’ve known it was him the moment he spoke anyway.

  "How’s it going, Duke?" Nate slid close, eyebrows up, ready for news about his part. I turned the phone so he could hear. He pressed himself against me, leaning his head on mine so we both got the info from Duke. As the warmth of his firm side seeped into me, I said a prayer of thanks that I’d never gotten a new phone for the kitch
en that had speakerphone on it.

  "The part came faster than we thought. I was closing up when a delivery van pulled up."

  Nate grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. He looked like a total dork, and it brought a huge smile to my face. I bit back a laugh. "Great, I’ll come first thing tomorrow and pick it up." I pushed away the disappointment that I might not get to know Nate more and started to hang up the phone.

  "Hold your horses, kid," Duke continued. "I’m not done."

  "What happened?" Nate asked.

  "Who’s that?" Duke said in a confused voice.

  "That’s Nate, Duke, the man the part is for." Nate waved his arms, impatient for the news.

  "Oh. Hello. So, as I was saying, I opened the part, and it’s the wrong one. The box looked awfully small, so I made the delivery guy wait while I checked it. It was a damn piston. He had me read him the numbers on the box and it was coded to be the right part, but it ain’t."

  Nate’s shoulders sank. "Now what?"

  "Well, I sent it back with the delivery fella. The guy at the manufacturer says he’s gonna look before he goes home tonight and see if they have any more of the correct part. He’ll call back tomorrow."

  "Thank you, sir," Nate said into the phone.

  I echoed his words and hung up.

  "Well, now what?" I asked him. "You’ve got work to do here in town, right?"

  He nodded, dejected.

  "So, you’ll stay here with me. Use my Mustang. Get your job done and sort out the car when you’re finished."

  His sad face turned to a smile. "You’re a good person, Ian. But if you’ll give me a ride into Bend, I’ll rent a car."

  "We’ll talk about it tomorrow. There really is no sense in you wasting your money. Especially if I’ll end up having to tow you and the car back to Portland in the end anyway."

  He rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Okay. But only if you promise to take the full rate I would pay any other rental agency and any other tow agency."

  "Half. Except for the tow. That’s business." I’d always kept my business as business. Friends didn’t get free tows. Only family did. I also didn’t ask Carson for free meals or Duke for free parts. Business was business.