Chapter Eight
FOUR DAYS.
Four days of slaving away, of shoveling shit from dawn until dusk, never complaining even once, and did he get a single “good job” or an “atta boy” from Russ?
Nope. Not one.
Phyllis and Jon and Ernie all showed appropriate amounts of approbation and gratitude, stroking his ever-more-brittle ego, but not Russ.
It was a little like working for his father, except his father threw in an occasional “nice work,” even though the words were usually followed by a “but.”
He still shied away from thoughts like that just as fast as they came up, but who else was he going to compare Russ to? He just hadn’t had that many assholes in his life up until that point, at least not ones he couldn’t ignore or tell to fuck off.
Bracing a foot on the fence, he rested his arms on the top rail and watched the herd in the pale light of the full moon. Crickets chirped in a constant drone broken by an occasional sleepy snort from a horse or bray of a donkey as an owl hooted somewhere off in the distance. The air was heavy and damp from a passing thunderstorm earlier in the day, and heat still radiated from the ground, despite the sun having set a couple of hours ago.
He was bone tired from another hard day and should have been in bed like the rest of them, but his mind wouldn’t stop working. He’d been pushing himself hard, punishing his body with work for days, but it wasn’t enough.
What did he want from his life?
Where did he go next?
Did he have to call the school to let them know he wouldn’t be coming back?
Did his father cancel the lease on his apartment near campus?
How long was his car insured for before he’d have to take over the payments?
Would his therapist even answer if he called?
Did he still have health insurance to pay for the therapist or a doctor if he got hurt?
All these questions and more lapped at his ankles, warning of the impending flood. His heart raced with a sudden need to be moving, to run until he collapsed, but it wouldn’t do any good, and he could barely lift his legs as it was. He felt sick. What he’d been able to eat of Phyllis’s fine but heavy cooking sat like a stone in his stomach.
Instead of running, he abandoned his post by the fence and moved into the barn. In the dim closeness, Dallas greeted him first as always. With a small smile, Jordan accepted his invitation and continued down the aisle, scratching each proffered neck, until he reached the end. Marina eyed him from just beyond the door to her stall, and Jordan smiled as he settled on the pile of straw bales a few feet away. He’d taken to coming out here each night and sitting quietly with the skittish mommy to be. He was calmer in the barn, the smells and sounds of the horses working their magic on him. Marina was used to him by now and had even taken a smuggled treat or two from his hand that morning, when Russ wasn’t looking.
“You and me, we’re going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’re a little broken now, but nothing that can’t be mended, right?”
She snorted and one big eye glittered at him from the shadows of her stall, and he smiled, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back against the rough wood-planked wall.
“HEY.”
He jerked awake at the nudge to his boot and found Russ looming over him, silhouetted against the pale indigo of predawn beyond the barn doors.
“Hope you managed to get your beauty sleep, ’cause sleeping in the barn ain’t an excuse to call in sick on a Saturday.”
Stifling a groan, Jordan tried to get his stiff muscles to cooperate. He felt about eighty years old and was pretty sure he looked it too. Thank God the barn was still dark back where he was.
Showing not even a hint of pity, Russ made shooing motions toward the house. “Phyl’s got breakfast in the works. Go inside and eat something for a change. You’re gonna need your strength for babysitting the weekenders.”
Jordan stumbled out of the barn and over to the house like a zombie, not processing Russ’s words until he reached the steps up to the porch.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, ‘eat something for a change’?”
He scowled back at the barn, but Russ was nowhere in sight.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Phyllis greeted him with far too much cheer as Jordan stepped into the kitchen.
“Isn’t it a little early for breakfast?” he groused as he shuffled to the coffeepot.
“It’s Saturday, busy day for us. Weekenders, tourists, potential adoptions.”
“Weekenders?” he managed between gulps from his cup.
“It’s what we call the well-meaning patrons who bring their families out to volunteer on the weekends.” Her grin faltered a little as she seemed to realize who she was talking to. “Not that we don’t appreciate all the help we can get, but some of the less regular helpers actually make more work for us instead of less, if you know what I mean.” She paused and stirred the eggs in the pan before turning back to him. “But it’s all to a good cause. And the more people who see what we do here, and raise their kids to respect animals and give of themselves, the better the world will be in the end,” she finished, using what Jordan had come to recognize as her fundraising voice.
“Makes sense,” he mumbled between sips from his second cup.
She eyed him critically. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, just a little tired.”
“Russ has really put you through it this week, hasn’t he?”
Yes.
“Not really. Besides, hard work builds character, right?” He flashed his best smile at her, and her face softened.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that today. We’ll have plenty of hands to help out.” She paused, pursed her lips, and eyed him speculatively. “You know what? I think that’s a great idea.”
“Huh? Did I miss something?”
She smiled wide. “Sorry. My thoughts tend to run away sometimes. I think you should spend the day with me, talking to folks. You got a knack for it. People like you.”
“Not everyone,” Jordan grumbled into his mug.
“Enough, though,” she said with a dismissive wave. “The work we do is necessary. Taking care of the animals is why we’re here, after all, but we wouldn’t be able to do it without the donors, without the people who support us. That part of the job is as important, if not more so than mucking stalls… even if I can’t seem to knock that into some people’s heads.” She harrumphed. “Without the donations of those lovely people that come here for a family day out every once in a while, we wouldn’t be here. And without them people coming out and falling in love with some of our animals and taking ’em home, we wouldn’t be able to rescue any more. The people matter.”
Jordan nodded, and her eyes lit up.
“See? I knew you’d get it.”
Instead of asking him to set the table, she dished him up a plate from the stove and told him to sit down.
“Is it just us?” he asked, confused.
“Yep, I’ll leave some out if Russ wants to come back to get it, but Jon and Ernie have the day off. We usually have plenty of help, particularly in the summer when the kids aren’t in school. This week has been pretty quiet, but we get Girl Scout troops, 4-H, church youth groups, summer camps, etcetera, coming in at least for a day most weeks. I do my bit and give ’em a tour and then put ’em to work mucking, giving baths, or hauling feed… simple stuff. All we have to do is keep an eye on ’em.”
“Babysitting,” Jordan sighed.
She chuckled. “It ain’t so bad. You get to sit down from time to time, and you don’t have to do all the haulin’ and shovelin’.”
She had a point. He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with kids, but laying on the Thorndike charm was something he had a good twenty-four years of practice doing. He’d learned to play the gracious host at the knees of the masters, his parents, after all. And even if the whole reason he’d thrown a grenade into his life was so he didn’t have to hide behind that mask anymore, this was for a good cause. Besides, it meant one less day of beating his head against the brick wall of Russ’s disapproval. After four fruitless days on that front, he could use a break.
“I’m in,” he said with a smile, and Phyllis’s sweet blue-gray eyes glowed, warming him from the inside as he tucked into his food with a slightly improved appetite.
AS IT turned out, charming people out of their money was something Jordan actually excelled at. It didn’t hurt that his love for the ranch and its animals was surprisingly genuine, which he discovered as he led chattering families around to the pens and helped Phyllis with funny and heartwarming stories so the people felt more connected.
Ernie’s biggest charge, Ralph the Camel, was a big hit. The little boys loved the grunts he made and how he spit when he was irritated. Jordan steered everyone around the caution ropes in front of Calliope the Ostrich’s pen, but he took great pleasure in relating the highlight of his week to any and all who would listen—that being the time he got to see Calliope knock Russ on his ass in the dirt as Russ dodged her grumpiness’s precision beak strikes. Jordan told it as a cautionary tale, but he made sure his voice was loud enough the man in question couldn’t help but overhear as he stomped by with another group of volunteers hauling feed. The scowl Jordan received in return for his efforts, as the kids let out peals of giggles, made Jordan’s day that much brighter.
He could see where wrangling other people’s children might get old after a while, particularly toward the end of the day when the kids started getting tired and cranky. But mostly, the little wide-eyed smiling faces following his every word were a balm to his tattered ego, and almost everyone was friendly and kind.
The only weird part of the day was when one of the dads eyeballed him. As a rule, Jordan had his fair share of good-looking guys eye-fucking him. In fact, he’d spent hours at the gym and in front of the mirror every week to make sure of it. So under normal circumstances, he would have preened under the attention. But there was something creepy about a guy with his wife and two little girls on a family outing, cruising him.
Call me a prude, but that’s just wrong.
He shuddered as he lifted the tray of lemonade pitchers off the kitchen counter to carry outside, hoping the guy would have already left. He was just about to descend the stairs and head to several families hovering around a couple of picnic tables strewn with cups and plates of cookies, when he spotted the creepy guy again. Only this time, the guy was squaring off with Russ in the shade of the barn, a good distance from everyone else and mostly hidden from view by a tractor and a horse trailer.
His curiosity piqued, Jordan took a couple of steps to the side to get a better look. Russ’s arms flailed as he exchanged what looked like heated words with the guy, but they were too far away for Jordan to even try to guess what they were saying. As Russ threw up his hands, turned his back on the guy, and stomped away, the screen door banged behind Jordan, making him jump.
Caught spying, Jordan blushed and straightened as he nodded over toward the barn. “What’s that about?” he asked.
Phyllis followed his gesture and grimaced. She eyed Jordan speculatively for a moment before shrugging. “Ancient history. Todd’s Russ’s ex…. Never liked him, m’self. He’s married now, with two adorable little girls, but he can’t seem to help himself coming out here to stir up trouble every once in a great while. Luckily, Russ usually makes himself scarce when he knows Todd’s about. Easier for everybody concerned.”
Jordan blinked. He stared after Russ’s retreating back for a couple of heartbeats before turning back to Phyllis. “His ex?”
Phyllis raised her eyebrows at his gobsmacked expression. “Yep. You don’t got a problem with that, do you?”
“Uh… no.” He shook his head, mostly to clear it. “No, not at all.”
She grinned. “I didn’t think you would.”
At his puzzled look, she grinned wider. “Come on. Let’s hand this out before the ice melts.”
In a daze, he followed her down the steps and set the tray on the picnic table. He poured and handed out paper cups of lemonade while Phyllis did her part to thank everyone for coming.
He’s gay? Russ is gay?
He was having a hard time wrapping his head around that fact, especially since it meant another blow to his ego. He wasn’t so vain as to think every man on the planet would be hot for him, but he hadn’t even gotten a hint of interest from Russ, not one in all the time they’d spent together. Jordan wasn’t a troll, for God’s sakes. A willing dick was a willing dick when you’re horny, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if the ranch held so many better options, and Russ hadn’t been anywhere but to the local grocery store and one little home inspection in the time Jordan had been there.
I mean, what the hell?
Russ and Todd never rematerialized, that Jordan saw. But soon enough all the weekenders were packed into their vehicles and kicking up dust on their way off the ranch, including Todd’s wife and kids, so he had to have come back at some point.
“You did good today,” Phyllis said, tapping her paper cup full of lemonade to his in a toast.
Momentarily forgetting about his obsession with Russ, Jordan beamed at Phyllis. It was ridiculous how happy that tiny bit of praise made him, like a steak to a starving man.
Classic “middle child of an emotionally distant father” syndrome—always such a sucker for approval.
He shook his head. Knowing the whys and wherefores didn’t make the feelings go away, though. He’d been in therapy from his midteens onward, so he knew all the right words and all the labels to put on things, but he’d lied to his therapist almost as much as he had to his parents. Judging by the reaction he’d gotten from telling the truth, he’d been smart to lie as long as he did.
“Thanks, Phyllis. You were right. It was fun.”
“Call me Phyl.”
She stood, grabbed the tray, and headed for the house while Jordan was still gaping after her with a stupid grin on his face and a hopeful little twinge in his chest.
“I’m going to get supper started. Why don’t you go check in with Russ and see if there’s anything still needs doing,” she called over her shoulder before stepping through the screen door and letting it bang behind her.
Russ is gay… or at least bi? Holy shit.