Say You'll Be Nine

“Excited about your straight cowboy brother and a noticeably not-straight actor from LA and pretending to be in love and also particularly handy with power tools. Is that about the sum of it?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Dude, even if I was up for it, there’s no way in hell your brother would agree to it.” I thought of those chocolate-brown eyes that reminded me of the baby cows on their family’s farm. Suddenly, I remembered the one sure thing about Isaac Winshed.

He never said no to someone in need.

Eli made a noise of disagreement. “Are you kidding? He’s already agreed. That kid once gave his brand-new sleeping bag—the one he’d gotten for his birthday so he could go on the Boy Scout camping trip—to our local pastor after a reading of Matthew’s gospel about hospitality. He wanted Father Bryant to give it to someone in need.”

That sounded like the guy I knew. Honestly, their entire family was pretty generous as a rule, but there was something specifically selfless about the youngest brother. “I find it hard to believe there’s a homeless problem in Wheatland, Wyoming,” I said.

Eli chuckled. “Which is why the bag turned up on the front porch the following day with a note from Father Bryant telling him a couple of Saturday mornings helping weed the flower beds at the senior home would be more appreciated. Said Matthew also did a bit in the gospel about flowers in the field or some shit. Nine lapped it up. Hell, he’s probably still in charge of keeping those flower beds weed-free.”

I needed to spend time with a sexy straight do-gooder like I needed a hole in the head.

I sighed. “The answer is no. Forget it. And why me?” The minute the question was out of my mouth, I knew the answer. I was the only gay person they thought they knew. “Never mind. The answer is still no. Hell no.”

Just as I was yanking the restaurant door back open and considering hanging up on him, his voice cut through the line again.

“Even if it paid you twenty thousand dollars for only a summer’s work?”

I froze in place. My sneakers made an awful screeching sound on the tile floor, causing my mom to look up at me. She looked exhausted and worried, the way she’d looked for months now. She was working her fingers to the bone to try and provide my brother with his best chance at a long and healthy life.

Twenty thousand dollars. Twenty thousand dollars. I could pay for Jackson’s surgery and still have enough left over to commit to my own business full-time. I could buy new camera equipment and costumes for the impressions and skits I did.

My brain was going a mile a minute. I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand on my high horse while my brother was in a hospital bed. Belatedly, I realized Eli was still talking.

“And I’m waiting for one more estimate before I’ll have information on the tires for you.”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah. The tires.”

“And you’ll think about the thing with Nine?”

Isaac. His name is Isaac.

“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

But of course, there was nothing to consider. If I could get my hands on the money for Jackson’s surgery, I was all in. I had to be.

Even if it meant spending time with Isaac Fucking Winshed.

3

Nine

My hands shook and my T-shirt was plastered to my lower back with sweat despite my truck’s air-conditioning being turned up to full blast for the past five hours. Even though it was June and he had a full fur coat, poor Nacho was probably frozen solid in the back seat. He’d be relieved when he was finally able to hop out and run free at the cabin.

The team at Stallion had been a little vague about the property. They’d mostly just said it was a mountain cabin set on a hundred acres near the White River National Forest that needed a makeover. The idea was for Cooper and me to spend the summer turning an old hunter’s cabin into a luxury retreat while vlogging the process as the gay couple we were. Rather, as the gay couple they thought we were.

Which was why I’d spent the past two weeks unable to eat. The very idea of pretending to be gay made me feel extremely uncomfortable. But doing it in front of Cooper? How the hell was I supposed to do that when I barely even knew the man?

Another reason I was deeply uncomfortable was because I’d been having thoughts. Lots of thoughts. Ever since my family had pointed out my lack of relationship experience, I’d thought back through the last ten years and second-guessed everything. I remembered going to the rodeo when I was fourteen and getting a boner when I saw the cowboys in chaps. But I’d also gotten a boner that weekend in church when the choir sang, so that wasn’t saying much. Then there was the time I caught myself staring at the men’s baseball team in their uniform pants in high school when they walked past me in the parking lot to the game field. I remembered thinking how amazing their bodies had looked, but at the time I’d thought it was a kind of appreciation and envy, not like… not like perving on them or whatever.