CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cal saw Beck heading out to make sketches of the future flower garden—after some research and emails with other area farmers, Cal had basically decided to go with the idea unless the cost was too prohibitive. He wanted to take a break and follow Beck, talk to him, make out with him, but doing so in the middle of the morning when he had plenty of chores to do was more obvious than he wanted to be. Of course, if he weren’t so damn worried what people would think, he would put that work off at least long enough to go say hello.
As if you could stop with that once you see him.
Fine, maybe he couldn’t, which was another reason not to follow him. The last thing he needed was to be caught kissing a man in a field in broad daylight. What would it be like to feel that free? If he were caught with a woman, he might get some teasing, but no one would actually care. Why the fuck couldn’t it just be the same?
But try as he might, his thoughts kept returning to images of Beck sitting on the hill with his sketchbook. So once the bulk of the morning chores were done in the horse barn, he sent José and Rick to do some repairs on the pig enclosure and told them to take lunch when they were finished.
Once they were gone, he walked up the road. Was Beck still out that way? He hadn’t seen him come back, but he’d been in the barn for a while. When Cal reached the top of the hill overlooking the barn on one side and the woods on the other, he saw Beck sitting in the grass, sketchbook on his lap, a canvas roll that probably held pencils or brushes spread out next to him. The wind ruffled Beck’s hair, and Cal stood watching him as he pushed it off his face and then focused back on his drawing. He was so fucking beautiful. His glasses had slipped down his nose, which only served to accentuate his sharp cheekbones. And the humidity had made his hair curl against his neck. Cal wanted to bite him right below those curls.
Beck was too perfect for him, and soon he would be leaving. But no matter how much that hurt, Cal couldn’t look away. He’d thought he’d be able to fuck Beck and have that be enough, but it wasn’t, not at all. Yet asking for more was impossible.
Beck hadn’t seen him yet, so he could turn around and walk back to the barn. That would be wise, because if he sat down and let Beck show off his sketches or talk about the farm or show interest in Cal’s life, the longing to keep him, to turn this into something real, might become unbearable.
Even if Cal decided to risk everything by openly dating Beck, there was only the smallest chance that Beck would stay. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be in Ames Bridge longer than he needed to. And yet, there he was, making plans for Cal’s farm. What did it matter, though? Cal wasn’t going to take that risk. He couldn’t. Beck just needed a place to lick his wounds and regroup—and a warm body to soothe him while he did so. Cal wouldn’t give up the chance to be the man who did that for him, even if he’d have to fight off Beck’s attempts to make him a better man and to give him a chance to feel things he shouldn’t, soft, tender things rather than just lust.
He’d fought so hard not to need anything from men that wasn’t physical. He couldn’t help that his cock stood up for men instead of women, but he could choose not to couple up. So he’d told himself romantic love was a bunch of bullshit. Love was something he felt for his family, and he didn’t need it from anyone else.
Except now he realized he’d been wrong, really fucking wrong. Because he needed Beck, badly.
He didn’t turn around and go back to the barn. He closed the distance between them and sat on the ground beside Beck, ignoring the pain in his chest that threatened to tear him in two.
Beck glanced his way. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” Cal laced his fingers together to keep from reaching out to touch Beck.
“You taking a break?”
“Yeah. I need to go finish up some planting, but I saw you head out this way while I was tending the horses, so…”
“So you came to say hi?”
Cal nodded.
“You want to see what I’m working on?”
Cal barely heard what Beck said. He’d become mesmerized by his lips. Did he dare kiss him out here? “Um… Yeah, sure.”
“Okay. You don’t have to if you’re not—”
“No, I want to see them. I just got distracted. You’re really distracting, you know?”
Beck grinned. “Am I, now?”
“Yes, and you know it.”
“But I’m just sitting here drawing.”
“Looking all tan and scruffy and gorgeous like a fucking summer fling fantasy.”
Cal scooted closer and forced himself to focus on Beck’s sketchbook. “Whoa. That’s amazing. I knew you could draw, but it looks so real, like you captured my farm just as it should be and infused it into the paper.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Cal looked up from the drawing. Beck’s cheeks had turned pink, but he held Cal’s gaze, and Cal wanted to kiss him so badly.
He forced himself to focus on the drawing and then on the field in front of them, the entrance to the trail, the area where the flower beds would be. Beck’s drawing had him convinced. The whole area would come alive with the changes.
“This all looks incredible. I love what you’ve envisioned for the trail entrance. It’s scruffy as hell right now.” He gestured toward the overgrown area. He’d been meaning to trim away some of the intrusive vines for ages. “And I love that you put the beds into a hexagon, not just rows. The benches and the arbor will make it a great event space if I decide to host some.”
“You could do it with help.”
“Yeah, I could.” Would Beck help? Was there any chance he’d stay and build up an event-planning business here? How could Cal ask him to, when he had so little to offer?
“You really think these changes will make a difference to tourists?” Cal asked.
Beck nodded. “Visitors are impressed by these kinds of details. Sure they’re here to see a working farm, but they want it prettied up. They want to see a rural fantasy. We can roll our eyes at that, but if you’re trying to make money…”
“I am. And if people are willing to have events here, that could really help too.” Cal wanted to share Beck’s enthusiasm, but would enough people really trust him?
“They’ll be willing. There aren’t any good outdoor venues around here.”
“There’s Munson’s farm; they do—”
“Pig pickin’s and church spaghetti dinners, not upscale events,” Beck said.
Cal grimaced. “No one here does upscale.”
“They do, but they go elsewhere—Greensboro or High Point.”
“All right. I guess that’s true.” The business was there, but no one in Ames Bridge was capitalizing on it. Could he?
“What about that new school? Lawson Friends Academy. They’re not far from here, and considering how steep the tuition is, they probably do a number of fancy events.”
“That Quaker school?”
“Right. They’re located to pull in kids from a wide area—bigger towns and small ones like this—so they have a varied population. And Quakers welcome everyone.”
Cal nodded. “I’ll need to figure out costs for materials and labor. With everything else I’ve got going, I can’t do all this myself.”
“I know there’s a lot to consider, but I believe you can keep the budget fairly low, and I do think it’s a good way for you to expand. Though I have to be honest, my experience is in planning anniversary parties and elaborate birthdays. I’m not really a business planner.”
“I bet you’d be great at that. You’re persuasive and enthusiastic and smart as hell.”
Beck flushed again. “Thanks.”
“You’re also…”
“What?”
Cal reached out and brushed the back of his fingers over Beck’s cheek.
Beck stilled, his eyes widening.
Was he shocked by Cal touching him out here or by his tenderness? “Thank you for caring about the farm.”
“That’s not all I care about.”
The words were soft and slightly hesitant.
Cal leaned closer, unable to help himself. One of the farm hands could come this way unexpectedly, but he couldn’t move away. He leaned in enough to brush his lips over Beck’s.
Beck sucked in his breath. “Someone could see us.”
“I know.”
Cal kissed him, softly at first and then harder, unable to hold back, the risk making it all that much hotter. Fear and need swirled in a confusion of emotions as Beck teased the roof of Cal’s mouth with his tongue.
Beck still held his sketchbook with one hand, but he slid the other into Cal’s hair, gripping tightly, like he was desperate to keep Cal there.
Cal groaned, reveling in the heat and taste of Beck. Then the sound of a motor made them jump apart. They stared at each other.
Cal’s breath was ragged. “I should go.”
Beck nodded. Cal hated seeing disappointment in his eyes, but even if he were willing to openly date Beck, he still wouldn’t fuck him in a field in the middle of the day.
“I shouldn’t have started that.”
Beck shook his head. “I’m glad you did. It was just hard to stop.”
“Yeah. I do want to talk more about your ideas.”
“Good.” Beck’s smile warmed Cal all the way to his toes.
“I’ll text you tonight.”
“Okay.”
Cal glanced toward the road that ran below them. Someone was approaching on the tractor, but they weren’t in sight yet, so he gave Beck a quick kiss before he stood.
Beck brought his fingers to his lips and rubbed them. “Damn, I wish we were alone.”
Cal nodded. “Me too, but I gotta go.” He took off running back toward the barn because if he stayed any longer, he might do something truly crazy.
***
Later that afternoon, Beck’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was Warren, a friend from college who now taught at a private school in Charlotte. They usually talked every month or two.
He answered the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Not too much for me, but I’ve got a job opportunity for you.”
“At your school?”
“Yep. I just found out one of the English teachers is leaving. The job’s not even posted yet, but if you send me your résumé, I can get you an interview.”
“Oh, wow.” Beck sat down as way too many thoughts buzzed in his head. Did he want to go back to teaching? He was supposed to be figuring out his future, but the only thing he’d learned so far was that he wanted a lot more from Cal than the proverbial farm boy roll in the hay.
But he should apply no matter what. If he got the job and decided he didn’t want it, he could always turn it down. He’d truly enjoyed teaching, at least the classroom aspect of it. Working with teens had been fantastic. The parents and admin, not so much.
“You still there?” Warren asked.
How long had he been letting his mind whirl? “Yeah. Umm… I haven’t really decided what to do next, but I’ll send my résumé.”
“Don’t tell me you were serious when you said you wouldn’t take another teaching job?”
He wished he knew. “I was angry. I’m still angry.”
“Angry enough to let those bastards force you out of teaching?”
Angry enough to realize there are other easier ways to make a living. “You really want me to apply, don’t you?”
“Considering some of the people I have to work with, how could I not? Having you on the staff would be awesome.”
“If they want to interview me, I’ll come and give it a fair shot. But are they going to want to hire someone who’s been surrounded by controversy?”
“Knowing my admin, they’ll see it as a coup to show our community how interested we are in diversity.”
“Are they actually interested?”
“More than most, though they’re far from perfect. But what school is?”
“True.” He wasn’t looking for perfection, just acceptance.
“I’ve got to run, but I would love to have you here.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll email you in a few minutes.”
“Good.”
If Beck did want to teach again, Warren’s school seemed like a great bet. Warren had been happy there for the last few years, or as happy as a teacher could be, considering the far-lower-than-it-should-be salary and the intense out-of-classroom commitment expected by competitive private schools. Warren was right; he shouldn’t let the admin from Bigot Country Day keep him from doing something he loved. But teaching wasn’t the only thing he enjoyed doing, and if he got this job, he’d be leaving Ames Bridge in August at the latest.
August would mean four months. Isn’t that long enough?
Longer than he’d initially planned. And he was already chafing against backward thinking when he’d not even been there two weeks yet. He wasn’t naive enough to think there weren’t plenty of conservatives in Charlotte. But that wasn’t the reason for his reluctance to leave. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the only thing making him feel tied to Ames Bridge was Cal. But no matter how strongly Beck felt about Cal, he would never stay in Ames Bridge for a man who wanted to hide him away. He needed to spend more time planning a viable future—at a school, or building an event company in a city, or doing any of a number of things that weren’t living in his grandma’s house, pining for the farm boy next door.