CHAPTER FOUR
Beck crossed the field where his grandparents’ cows had once grazed. Soon, if Cal had his way, horses would be frolicking there. Beck had to admit he liked that idea. The land should be used. He wasn’t sure he was ready to sell, but he could always rent it to Cal. The settlement he’d received from his former employer was enough to live on for a while, but having extra income would mean more time to decide what to do next or to pay for school if he chose to take a new direction.
When he reached the point where the path between his grandma’s fields intersected Cal’s driveway, Beck could tell how much the McMurtry farm had changed. Where the chicken houses used to be were a series of pens, one with pigs and piglets and one with chickens of several varieties—black and white speckled, red, yellow, black—all of which were wandering loose. On the other side of the drive there were vegetable gardens, and beyond those, the old apple orchard had been expanded. He could even see what looked like blackberry canes beyond the apple trees. Cal hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d diversified.
When Beck was a kid, the McMurtrys had only grown a few vegetables for the family. Most of their income came from stabling horses and being a subcontractor to a national chicken processor.
As Beck got closer to the house, everything looked more as he remembered it. The huge oak tree he’d always loved still had a wooden swing hanging from it. He recalled, though not exactly fondly, Cal pushing him higher and higher, taunting him.
Jump, Beck. Come on. It’s fun.
I don’t want to jump.
Sure you do.
No.
Don’t you know how to jump from a swing?
When Beck had finally given in, he’d turned his ankle, and Cal hadn’t even offered to help as he limped back to the house.
Beck sighed. Cal wasn’t that boy anymore, and one would hope that after coming out in a small town, he’d learned some empathy. He’d intended to forget about their past and let Cal show him all the things he’d changed. But when he climbed the front steps of the farmhouse, he felt like he was eight years old again, hiding behind his grandma and hoping Cal’s mom was the only one there. The only thing he’d liked about the visits were Miss Martha’s cookies, especially her molasses ones. Beck’s grandma was a fine cook, but no one could beat Miss Martha.
As Beck had gotten older, Cal was rarely around when he and his grandmother stopped by. He was usually working, swimming, or playing baseball with other boys. On the rare occasion he was hanging around the farmhouse, he’d show off for Beck—flirt with him?—which wasn’t so bad. If other boys were there, that’s when things often turned ugly. Then, the summer Beck turned fifteen, his grandmother announced she didn’t talk to the McMurtrys anymore, and they never went back. Beck didn’t ask many questions. He was happy not to deal with Cal, who’d only grown more gorgeous as he’d gotten less friendly. Thus Beck had never found out what had happened.
He took a deep breath and knocked.
Cal opened the door a few seconds later. His gaze moved down Beck’s body until his eyes widened and he looked up quickly, seeming to realize he was blatantly checking Beck out. “Umm…you want something to drink before we start the tour, or…”
Beck smiled. Cal was both nervous and interested in him. This was a day of revelation.
He’s nervous because he wants your land.
That’s not all he wants. No. Better to ignore those thoughts. No matter how hot Cal was or how interested, sleeping with him would be a terrible idea for many reasons. “No thank you, let’s just get going.”
“All right, then. We’ll stop by the livestock enclosures first, and then we’ll go to the barn. I want to show you how we remodeled it.”
Katie appeared then, nosing her way around Cal so she could greet Beck. He scratched her ears and fended off her slobbery kisses. Then the three of them started down the dirt road toward the pigs and chickens. Katie walked with them for a while, but eventually she veered off across the fields on some doggie quest.
They reached the pigs first, and Beck immediately fell in love with a group of tiny black piglets who were trotting along behind their mama. “They’re so cute.”
Cal smiled. “Yeah, they are.”
“The adults look smaller than the pigs I’ve seen before.”
“That’s because they’re guinea hogs, a heritage breed that’s especially good for smaller operations.”
“Wow. You’re using heritage breeds now?”
“I told you a lot has changed.”
Beck grinned. “I guess it has.”
He leaned against the fence and watched as two of the piglets tried to nurse from their mother as she walked. They were so adorable. He wasn’t at all sure he could watch them grow up and then turn them into ham and bacon. “Is it hard when it comes time to slaughter them?”
Cal shrugged. “It’s the circle of life.”
“But you watch them grow up, and you hold them, and—”
“No holding. That’s not a good idea.”
“Because you get too attached?”
Cal pushed away from the fence, a smirk on his face. “Nope. Come on, I’ll show you.”
He opened the gate to the enclosure and motioned for Beck to step through.
“It’s okay to be in here?”
“Yeah, as long as you steer clear of Gus”—he pointed to the largest of the pigs, who was lying on his side in the sun—“and don’t hurt the piglets, the mother pigs will leave you alone.”
One of the piglets had wandered away from his mother to sniff some clover. Cal walked slowly toward him and then scooped him up in one hand.
The piglet let out an earsplitting squeal as it wriggled, trying to get free. Even when Cal cuddled him close, he kept squealing. Beck expected the sound to lower in volume or stop eventually, but no, it seemed like the piglet could keep it up indefinitely. Cal seemed unruffled by the noise, while Beck was utterly flustered by the sight of Cal cooing to a tiny baby animal.
Beck turned when he heard a deep snuffling sound. A large pig was trotting toward them, picking up speed with every second.
“Um…Cal.”
Cal set the piglet on the ground, and immediately the squealing ceased.
The mother pig snorted one last time and turned around. Her piglet tried his best to run toward her, wobbling on unsteady legs.
“That’s why you don’t pick up piglets.”
“So ‘squeal like a piglet’ is a real thing?”
Cal laughed. “Yeah, no exaggeration there.”
He started back toward the gate, and Beck followed.
“Do the pigs go to the barn at night?”
Cal shook his head. “They’re a hearty breed, and they’re happier outside. They sleep in their shed if they need extra warmth, and it’s there to give them shade when they get too hot, or they can cool off in the mud.” Cal gestured toward the small building that was open on one side.
“I guess in the old days, pigs just wandered in the woods, right?”
Cal nodded. “Some commercial breeds are too sensitive to heat and cold to stay outside, but most heritage breeds can be raised completely outdoors.”
They stepped through the gate, and Cal closed it behind him. “Let’s see if there are any eggs, and I’ll tell you about the different breeds of chickens we have now.”
Beck learned how to tell the difference between Easter Eggers, Wyandottes, Dominiques, and Australorps, and helped Cal collect a basket of blue, green, and brown eggs. Then they headed toward the barn.
“Do you remember playing in the hayloft?” Cal asked.
What he remembered was itching like crazy and Cal teasing him when he didn’t want to jump down into the hay. Of course he didn’t want to jump. It was too far down, and who knew what might be under the pile. But he’d done it anyway, because surely, a kid should want to jump in a hay pile, right? Even Mary Ingalls wasn’t too priggish to try it.
“Beck, you okay? You’re awful quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I remember the barn and the hayloft.”
“Well, you won’t recognize the place now. It’s completely modernized, and I’ve even had other farmers copy some of my designs.”
Beck might have some unpleasant memories tied to this place, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the pride in Cal’s voice when he talked about the farm. He’d accomplished a hell of a lot in the last few years.
When they stepped into the barn, Beck gasped. He’d expected improvement, but Cal was right—Beck wouldn’t have known the place if the outside didn’t look nearly the same. Everything was clean and fresh. Sure it smelled like horses, but that wasn’t something Beck had ever minded. Light streamed in from high windows, taking away the gloomy feeling most old barns had.
He glanced up at the hayloft, which now had a sturdy ladder and new flooring. “Wow.”
“You like it?”
Was that uncertainty in Cal’s voice? How could he think Beck wouldn’t? “What you’ve done is incredible.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Whoa. If Cal kept being this charming, Beck was going to be putty in his hands. He walked toward the far end of the barn. “Is that a bathroom?”
“Yeah, it might seem like a luxury, but it’s been great for riding students or people who stable their horses here. Otherwise I’d need a Port-a-John, or they’d have to come to the house. And now I have a place to shower when I’m so filthy I don’t want to go in the house.”
Beck peeked into the small room. It was very basic—a shower stall, a toilet, and a sink—but he could see how much of a difference having it there could make. “Sounds like you made a great decision.”
“Thanks. Come meet the horses. You may even remember some of them, like—”
“Nereid.” He pointed to the black mare in the closest stall.
Cal smiled. “You want to feed her a carrot?”
Beck took one from Cal and offered it to Nereid, laughing when her lips tickled his hand in her eagerness. “So your sister finally admitted Nereid was your horse?” Cathy had received her as a gift, but the horse had always preferred Cal.
He chuckled. “Yeah, she did. Though she still boards her horses here.”
“Where’s she living now?”
“Winston-Salem, so not too far.”
Beck wandered down the aisle, looking into stalls. “You’ve got a lot more horses than I remember.”
“We’ve got eighteen now.”
“So you teach lessons?”
He shook his head. “Only for a few people; mostly we just board.”
“I bet you’re a great teacher. You should try to get more students.” Beck wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but while Cal could be an ass, he loved his horses and he loved sharing them with other people.
“I thought about it, but we’d need more gentle horses. And realistically, I’ll never get many young students, not considering how hard it is to get school groups to come out here.”
“Fucking bigots.” Beck hated that Cal’s sexuality had to affect his business.
“Yeah. But that’s how it is.”
“I’ve only been back a few days, and I’m already tired of hearing that.”
Cal shook his head. “You don’t live here, so you—”
“Don’t understand?”
Cal frowned. “No, I wasn’t going to say that. You don’t have to deal with it every day. It wears you down until you don’t want to fight anymore.”
“How do you think I felt teaching with people who hated me?”
“Yeah, I know. That must’ve sucked, but at least they weren’t people who’d held you as a baby and celebrated everything you did until they found out you liked men.”
Beck’s chest ached from seeing Cal look so sad. He wanted to find a way to make things better.
“Remember Moonshine, the old Shetland pony we had?”
“Oh yeah. He was so cranky.”
Cal laughed. “Yeah, we both got bitten by him a few times.”
Beck shuddered at the memory.
“Well, we’ve got a new Shetland named Lightning. We’ve had him about three years now, and he’s the exact opposite, so sweet and gentle. I even show him to kids on the school tour.”
“Wow, he does sound different.”
“Come on, you can meet him.”
Beck followed Cal down the barn aisle to the next-to-last stall. He peeked over the door and saw the most adorable chocolate-brown Shetland. His blond mane was well groomed, but he shook his head, tousling it as he stomped his foot and neighed at Beck.
“He’s showing off for you, hoping you’ll give him a treat.”
“May I?”
“Sure. Just a sec.”
He walked to the end of the barn, lifted the lid on a barrel, and scooped something out. “Here are some mints; those are his favorite. Go ahead and take several so you can feed some of the others.”
Beck grabbed four of the soft mints and offered one to Lightning. He chewed it happily and then snuffled, hoping for more.
“That’s enough for now. Don’t be greedy,” Cal admonished him.
He stomped his foot, and Cal sniffed. “Brat.”
“You said he was sweet,” Beck reminded him.
“He is sweet with kids, but like most ponies, he’s demanding.”
“Like his owner?”
“Ha! Come see Fern. She’s expecting her first foal in a few weeks.”
“That’s exciting.” A beautiful roan horse had stuck her head over the side of the stall, and Beck gently petted her muzzle. “Are you excited about being a mom?”
She snuffled as if saying she wasn’t quite sure.
“I bet you’ll do great.”
When he turned away, he caught Cal giving him a soft smile. It made his knees feel weak.
“You want to ride for the rest of the tour? We can see more that way, including the expansion of the trail through the woods.”
Beck considered the suggestion. “It’s been a while.”
Cal grinned. “I thought maybe you’d enjoy being back on a horse. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
No, he’d never forget those days of riding with Cal, watching his legs grip his horse, watching him make it all look so effortless. After a hard ride, they’d stand in the stuffy barn, grooming the horses. Sweat would run down Cal’s face and neck, and he’d wonder how it would taste.
He cleared his throat. “Fine. Let’s ride.”
Cal walked over to a stall, took a lead rope off a hook, and clipped it onto a beautiful paint mare. “This is Jigsaw. She’ll be perfect for you.”
There was something in Cal’s tone, amusement maybe, that made Beck tense. But he stepped closer and petted Jigsaw’s neck as he slipped her one of the carrots Cal had given him. She gobbled it up and nuzzled him, searching for more. “That’s all for now; maybe you can have some more after the ride.”
“You can put her in the crossties there.” Cal gestured toward hooks about midway down the barn aisle. “I’ll tack up Nereid in her stall. Jigsaw’s tack is all labeled, but let me know if you need help.”
Beck hoped he remembered everything he needed to know about tacking up. He shouldn’t be so concerned about impressing Cal, but he couldn’t help it.
So you don’t want him thinking you’re still some gangly, innocent boy who needs help with everything.
But he hadn’t been all that innocent. Not considering the things he’d imagined doing to Cal.
Beck managed better than he’d expected. Maybe all of this really was something you never forgot. When the horses were ready, Cal brought Nereid out of her stall. “I’ll take her out first. She doesn’t follow well.”
Neither do you.
Beck unhooked Jigsaw from the crossties. “Come on, girl.” He clucked, and they started walking.
When they stepped out of the barn, Beck took a deep breath. This wasn’t high school. He could be a mature adult and not gawk at Cal on horseback or say something stupid. He was here to learn about the farm, not to… My God, his ass looks good in those jeans.
***
As Cal swung up onto Nereid’s back, he watched Beck mounting. The way his thighs and ass flexed as he settled into the saddle had Cal biting back a groan. If he wasn’t worried the whole town would find out, he’d do his best to charm Beck right into his bed, because for all that he pissed Cal off almost the moment he’d stepped onto his porch two days ago, he was hot as hell, just like he’d been back in high school when Cal wished his wet dreams were about girls, not the cute little nerd who liked baking with his grandma.
He still wore nerdy glasses, but his dirty-blond hair was a lot more stylish now, and there was something about the way he moved, his body seeming relaxed in a way Cal’s never was. And he had muscles now, the kind that came from a gym, not farm work, but they were still amazing.
Beck looked over at him and caught Cal staring, but there was no hint of anger, or even annoyance, in his hazel eyes. Instead, he ducked his head with a shy smile. But Cal forced himself to look away; what the hell was wrong with him? Most people got over their teenage crushes, but Cal had never stopped lusting after him since Beck had become the star of his teenage jerk-off fantasies. And now Beck was no longer a boy. He was most definitely a man, but Cal only slept with men who understood how to fuck and walk away, not idealists who likely wanted the trappings of a relationship, as if Cal could have one of those, living where he did.
“Ready?” he asked.
Beck nodded. But as they started walking, Jigsaw jerked sideways, and Beck wavered in the saddle.
“Shit!”
“Sorry, she hates bees, but if we stick to the road, it will be fine.”
“O-okay.”
Cal knew the moment he saw the unease on Beck’s face that he’d made a mistake putting him on Jigsaw. He’d assumed Beck was still as comfortable in the saddle as he had been, and he thought it would be like old times to stir him up a little when Jigsaw took off for her beloved patch of clovers. A surprise ride on Jigsaw was part of every farm hand’s first day, and all of them took it good-naturedly, but Beck wasn’t a new hire who expected to take a bit of razzing. And the things Cal had done to Beck as a kid hadn’t been good-natured; they’d been motivated by fear and self-loathing. If Jigsaw took off with Beck on his back, he might get hurt, and he sure as hell would never trust Cal again. They needed to turn back and get Beck another horse.
“Beck.”
He glanced over at Cal. “Yeah?”
Cal’s heart pounded. Just admit what you did. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Nothing. Never mind.” If he confessed, Beck would still hate him for his intentions. He wasn’t going to risk that. They could just go a different route and avoid the path where Jigsaw always bolted.
Beck frowned. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” No pranks, no stupid shit. He’d act professional and give Beck a tour just like he did for any prospective customer or investor. Because ultimately, that’s what Beck was, someone who could invest in the farm’s future by selling Cal much needed pasture at a reasonable price.
Not to mention that you want him to think you’re more than an ignorant hick. He looked over at Beck, who rode beside him, his blond hair ruffled by the wind. He was already tanner than when Cal had first seen him, as if he hadn’t already looked fucking edible.
That thought had Cal quickly turning away again. The last thing he needed was a hard-on while riding a horse.
While they rode past the vegetable gardens, Cal explained that he now sold CSA—Community Supported Agriculture—shares.
“I’ve heard of those, but I’m not sure how they work,” Beck said.
“Customers pay a set amount in the spring, and then they get a box of produce—and eggs, if they want those too—each week through the summer and early fall.”
“So each week’s box varies depending on what’s being harvested.”
Cal nodded. “Right. They get the freshest produce available for much less than they’d pay for each individual item.”
“That sounds great.”
“It’s been working well so far. You ready to see the orchard?”
Beck glanced over at Cal and smiled. “Sure.”
After riding past the apple trees and blackberry canes, they crossed an undeveloped area and arrived at the entrance to the riding trails that snaked through the woods.
“Do you offer trail rides as part of the farm tours?”
Cal had thought about it, but thinking was as far as he’d gotten. “Not right now.”
“That would be a great add-on, and I bet you could also do trail rides marketed to visitors coming to see the bridge. I heard a few new inns have opened, so there must be more people staying overnight.”
Cal tilted his head, considering. “Maybe. I’ll think about that.”
“You work well with horses, Cal, so it seems like a natural expansion.”
Cal’s whole body lit up from Beck’s compliment. “I’d need more horses of my own to do trail rides, and in order to have more horses…”
Beck grinned. “You need more land for pasture.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I think we can likely work something out.”
Cal’s breath caught. “Really?” He hadn’t thought it would be this easy to convince Beck, or that it would be so hard to keep from kissing him in gratitude.
“Yes, really.”
Cal forced himself to look away before he dragged Beck off his horse and tumbled that lean body under his.
“You want to race back to the barn?” This mostly flat stretch was the perfect place for a hard gallop, which was the next best thing to a hard fuck.