Goldilocks: A Man, a Jersey, and a Tight End (16 page)

“Thanks for the offer,” said Scott, just to fill the silence. “I hope you meant it.”

“Uncle Rich, he says he’s glad I offered,” said Joshua, without turning his head. And then he said nothing else.

The easy friendliness of the young man Scott had met beside the highway seemed completely buried under this subdued man. The truck pulled up soon enough, though, to a long ranch house that seemed one of those types that began as a trailer home and then, with time and the odd additions, just sank into the land like it had grown there. A dotting of buildings stretched from the near right of the house off into the distance.

“That’s my uncle’s operation, that ways,” said Joshua, indicating the buildings and the fields beyond with a wave of his hand. He turned off the engine and hopped out of the truck.

Scott followed him up to the front door of the house, where Joshua paused, wiping his feet carefully and taking a deep breath before turning the handle.

“Uncle Rich?” he called. “We’re back, sir.”

An older man came down the hall, his voice and the sound of his rubber-tipped cane preceding him. “Close that door behind you, son.”

Joshua leaned back and closed the door firmly as a big man came round the corner. He was over six feet tall and must have weighed around two hundred and fifty pounds, Scott guessed, being kind of a connoisseur of big and tall men. There was a good bit of paunch stretching out the cotton of his traditionally styled snap-front cowboy shirt, but there was also still a lot of muscle in those shoulders and arms, and the calloused hand that shook Scott’s was a vise.

“Uncle Richard, this is Scott. Scott, this is my uncle, Richard Miller,” said Joshua, straight out of Emily Post.

“Sir,” said Scott.

“Thank you for rescuing my idiot nephew and my horse,” said Uncle Richard. “I’m pleased you decided to take time out to let us thank you proper.”

Scott glanced quickly at Joshua and saw that his eyes were averted, his cheeks pink. “Thank you for inviting me.”

* * * *

The clock on the mantel ticked. The ice in Scott’s iced tea clinked as he set it down, and the clock on the mantel ticked again.

Uncle Rich didn’t seem much inclined toward idle talk, and Joshua seemed unable to speak at all. Scott found that he was carrying the burden of the conversation himself, and he’d run out of things to say about the weather some time ago.

A dark woman with black hair in a severe bun came into the room, and Joshua sat up, almost eagerly. He said something to her in Spanish, and she answered in rapid pretty speech. Joshua started babbling away at her in Spanish, only pausing to say, “Dinner’s ready,” and the next thing Scott knew, they were sitting at a big table with bowls of beans and salsa and chips, three plates with steaks on them as big as an entire cow and a multicolored rice that smelled amazing.

Every man had a glass of water and a glass of beer at his spot. Scott didn’t drink when he was working, but he was too polite to decline. So he just let the glass sit there. He noticed that both Joshua and his uncle had a couple of refills from a man who came in with a pitcher.

Nobody talked while they ate, either, but that was okay with Scott. He didn’t want to stop chewing anyway. The food was delicious.

Uncle Rich finished his meal, put his silverware in a perfect cross on his plate, wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, laid that down, said, “Excuse me,” and stood. “I have work to do. Thank you so much, again, Mister… Good luck to you.” And he thumped away down the hallway.

Joshua noticeably relaxed. He called out something in Spanish, and the man came back in, this time carrying two highball glasses with some kind of amber liquid, ice cubes dancing in it.

Sighing mightily, Joshua tipped one back and drank it almost all the way down at once. “Christ, I needed that.”

“I don’t drink when I’m driving,” said Scott, sounding prudish to his own ears. But it was the truth.

Joshua just gave him a look and snagged the second glass, setting it by his own. “You want a ride back right away, or you have time for a tour?” he said. His words were noticeably slurred.

Scott figured it might not be a bad idea to let Joshua walk a little of the buzz off before climbing back into his truck. “I could do with a walk,” he said.

Joshua stood, lifting the second glass and drinking down its contents like water. “C’mon, then.”

Joshua led him through the house. It was large but simple. “This is my room,” he said in a bored way, turning on the light. Scott looked around. There were team banners on the walls, some ribbons hanging from trophies on a shelf, a bookshelf with, it appeared, an extensive collection of slim paperbacks, and a signed football on a desk covered with the paraphernalia of adolescence.

This brought Scott to a question he hadn’t really considered before. “How old are you?”

Joshua shot him a look. “Twenty-four last June.”

And he still lived in a child’s room.

“Uncle Rich brought me up after my folks passed. It’s just me and him here.” Joshua stepped to the door and turned the light out again. “C’mon. I’ll show you the barns.”

Barns. Plural. And Joshua wasn’t kidding.

In a dune-buggy-like car, Joshua drove them down the row of two- and three-story buildings, all of which seemed to house some overlarge multilimbed farm machine. “Uncle Rich rents combines and such,” said Joshua. “He used to have cattle, but he got sick of the trouble of ranching.”

“You help him with his business?”

“Ain’t much use to him. Was when there was livestock. That mare you saw, that was our last one. Now he’s sold her, guess you could say I’m the last animal the old man’s got left to burden him.” That was said in the bitterest of tones.

Joshua turned the little vehicle around the end of the last building and up a rise. He killed the engine and sat back. From their vantage point they could see the sun just settling over the horizon, miles of grass and fence and one star showing in the evening sky.

Joshua exhaled, a long, weary sound, and put his feet up on the dash. “You got a girl?” he said suddenly.

Scott was surprised, but just said, “No.”

Joshua turned his head, pushed back his hat, and gazed at him steadily. “But you got a b—friend,” he said.

Scott didn’t drop his eyes, but his face went steadily warmer.

“Don’t worry ’bout it,” said Josh. “I ain’t even got a b—friend. So you’re one up on me.”

Scott didn’t come out to strangers, especially on the road and
especially
on the road in rodeo towns in Wyoming.

“I don’t want trouble,” he said. “I appreciate the steak dinner, Mr. Miller, but I don’t want to…”

“Oh
hell
,” said Joshua. “Don’t go off all in a tizzy. I’m not gonna out you, fer Christ sake. I’m just saying.” He kicked at the steering wheel. “I’m just saying I once had a b—friend, and…you’re one up on me, is all, if yours ain’t dumped you yet.”

Oh.

“Shouldn’t even call him that, I guess. I mean, you’d laugh if I told you.”

Scott wasn’t given to putting his feet into other men’s shoes much. But he imagined, for one horrible moment, being gay and living in Redding with Uncle Rich. “Sorry,” he said.

Joshua made a face. And Scott had an uncomfortable twinge of sympathy for the man who had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and apparently painful memories to accompany him.

“You took care of your uncle’s cows?” he said.

“Cows?” Joshua gave him a look. “Yeah, I took care of the cattle. Uncle Rich had a line of cowponies for a while there. That was nice.”

At least he was talking again, thought Scott. And he seemed to like talking about the farm animals more than the human ones. “A line?” he said. “What do you mean?”

“That mare,” said Joshua. “She was a good one, and Uncle Rich, he got a good bit of money for her. Federation stock, you know. Her blood’s got some nice reining champions.”

Scott had no idea what the man was talking about, so he asked and got a history of cutting and reining horses, then a history of bloodlines. Joshua talked and talked, and his face became animated, and the young man Scott had met by the side of the road emerged as he talked.

His words rolled out of him, and he made a story out of each and every question Scott asked him. Scott thought it was a lot like listening to one of those radio men who sometimes would get on the country stations late at night with their long stories.

“But I talk too much,” said Joshua.

“Naw,” said Scott. “You’re fine.”

He got a smile and a warm look from those eyes that, in hindsight, he realized he should have noticed and been forewarned by.

“Thanks for listening to me jaw,” said Joshua. “It gets too quiet sometimes.”

Scott couldn’t imagine it. He thought suddenly of Jim and Brian and Paul and thanked God in his heart for them.

Joshua studied the ground. Then he lifted his hand and just looped one finger around Scott’s. Scott looked up, and those green eyes were just tired and sad and begging.

Christ.

“I got a man at home,” said Scott.

“I know.” Joshua dropped his fingers and looked away. “Well…” Joshua sighed deeply. “Guess I should be offering to drive you back to your truck. Thanks for rescuing me.” He smiled, and his eyes crinkled at the edges.

And then, for no good reason that he could think of later except the man needed it and Scott knew what that was like, Scott leaned forward, took Joshua’s chin, and kissed him. Once. Soft and lingering, and then he let Joshua go.

Joshua blinked at him, eyes wide and hurting.

Oh, man
. Scott reached up and touched that too-young face, then all on impulse leaned forward and kissed him again. This time Scott wrapped his hand around Joshua’s neck and held him there so he could open Joshua’s lips and let the kid feel his tongue. Joshua’s mouth opened and just received him, hungry and eager as a young calf, his hands coming up to rest on Scott’s shoulders. When Scott broke the kiss, Joshua’s mouth remained open, his eyes closed, long lashes fanning flushed cheeks. His eyes popped open, and he took a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” said Scott.

Joshua nodded. His eyes were wild and hot. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry for what?”

“This.” Joshua’s hands moved to either side of Scott’s face, and he kissed Scott back. It was an inexpert kiss, and that was, finally, what made Scott do what he did next. If he’d felt the man was anything less than an innocent, he would have shoved Joshua away.

Joshua’s hat was pushed askew, his hair sticking up. Scott took it from Joshua’s head, smoothing his hair, and said, “Where can we go?”

Joshua looked at him. “There’s a sofa in the barn.”

* * * *

Joshua was an eager and simple lover. Happy to be kissed, happy to be touched. Running his fingers over Scott wonderingly and crying out like a boy when he came in Scott’s hands, his thighs trembling and his one hand clutching at Scott’s arm.

Scott was working himself, resting his cheek against Joshua’s cool chest, when Joshua said, “Can I suck you?”

Squeezing the base of his cock and waiting until Joshua got the condom on him, Scott watched in awe as Joshua bent over him, his eyelids fluttering, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. He looked up at Scott, and his eyes were shining as if with tears, and Scott laid his hand on that silky long hair and came in the condom as hard as he ever had.

Then he lay back on the sofa, gazing up at the roof of the barn, Joshua passed out across his chest, and tried to think what he’d done and what he was going to do about it.

* * * *

“Hello, Jim?”

Just outside of some backwater. Twenty-four hours from delivery and still well within schedule, Scott had pulled off at a rest stop for ten minutes to call home.

“Hey, baby. God, Scott, how long till you get home?”

“’Nother thirty hours at most.”

“Can’t wait to see you. Hey, Paul sent some pictures from New York. I’m gonna forward them in a minute.” There was a lot of feedback noise and mumbling and then the beep as an image was delivered to Scott’s cell phone. He looked at it and laughed. Brian buck naked, in a collar, with a leash hanging from it, grinned up at him.

“Wow, Jim, that is nasty.” He laughed into the phone. “You gonna get busted by the feds for Internet porn, lover?”

Jim was hooting away there on the line. “There’s more.”

“I bet there is.” Scott sighed, a long heartfelt exhalation. “Wish you were here right now, baby. I need you, Jim.”

“Soon.” Jim sounded a bit choked up.

“Yeah. Soon. Well, I gotta go.”

“Drive carefully.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Scott. He disconnected and looked back over his seat. “Hey, you wanna pee, you better do it now, bub. I ain’t stopping between here and Seattle.”

“Okay.” Joshua climbed over the seat and slid down and out the passenger door, running across the grass to the men’s room in his bare feet.

Scott watched him. He had thirty hours to think of something.

“Wish Brian were here,” he said to himself. Of course, he could call Brian, but truth was he didn’t know how to explain himself. If Brian could
see
Joshua and maybe
talk
to him, Scott figured he might understand.

When Joshua had roused from his sex-induced nap and sat up, Scott had still been writing the speech in his mind that would let the boy down easy and somehow leave them both with some sense of peace.

When Joshua woke, he dressed quietly. His brows were serious below the brim of his hat as he drove back to his truck in the dune buggy. Scott wanted to thank his uncle again, and Joshua led him to where the old man was working in his office. There was another man there, and the uncle barely acknowledged Scott when he expressed his thanks.

“Don’t know,” Scott heard the uncle say to his visitor as the doors swung closed again. “Friend of my useless nephew’s.”

Grim-faced, Joshua stopped at his room again before they left. “I have a book to take back to the library,” he said. He must have misinterpreted the way Scott was looking around his room. “Got a lot of books in here for a cowboy, I guess.”