Say You'll Be Nine

But I also had to agree to not being all that thrilled by girls necessarily. At least, not as much as my brothers always seemed to be. It was always “boobs” this and “hooters” that. And talk like that made me uncomfortable. Still did. I’d had some nice women friends over the years, but none I’d really wanted to do things with all that much. It had gotten to the point where I simply thought maybe I wasn’t as sexual as the next guy. Maybe I was missing something that they all had, or perhaps I was what my grandma called a “late bloomer.” As long as I was still in my twenties, I hadn’t worried too much about it. I wasn’t sure who in Wheatland would want a hardware store clerk as a husband anyway, so what was the point?

Thinking about Cooper though… well, that did something to me. It made me annoyed, mostly, but for some reason that annoyance made itself known through what I’d begun to think of as “angry dick.” Yes, thoughts of arguing with Cooper made me hard. And since I was fixing to spend the entire summer sleeping near, fighting with, and pretending to kiss and hug the man, this was going to be a problem.

“Keep it together,” I grumbled under my breath. Nacho’s ears perked up in the rearview mirror. “Oh, not you, baby. You’re fine. Go back to sleep. Daddy’s just having a sexuality crisis, no big.”

I remembered one time when Cooper was staying over during a spring break, I’d come home late from helping a neighbor fix his tractor shed and run right into Cooper pouring himself a glass of ice water in the darkened kitchen. He’d been standing there in nothing but navy-striped boxer briefs, and I’d stared at him like he was some kind of alien.

“Nine,” he’d said slowly. “Didn’t know you were out this late.”

I’d glanced my fill of his entire body, curious more than anything about what another man outside my family looked like without his clothes on. Since I’d helped my dad on the farm and worked at Walt’s, I hadn’t played school sports and had the locker room experience like some others had.

I remembered the air getting weird between us and his underwear getting bulgier as we stood there. Had it been possible he was getting hard for me? I’d known he was gay, but this was something else.

“Uh, yeah,” I’d croaked. “Was working at the farm next door. Sorry.” I’d scooted past him and raced for my room, kicking myself for apologizing for being in my own damned kitchen. After that, every time I’d seen Cooper I hadn’t been able to help but look at his fly to see if he was getting hard for me again. It had been this inappropriate addiction I’d had that had pissed me the hell off and started the odd discord between us. Was it ego? Did I really care if some gay guy found me attractive?

So yeah. I was sweating buckets and probably going to puke and faint at the same time the minute I saw him at the renovation cabin. Super-duper.

When I finally pulled off the deserted mountain highway and onto the road where the property was located, I wrenched my truck into Park and upchucked into the weeds at the side of the forest. Nothing like christening a new place with a little vomit.

Nacho whimpered and whined from the half-open window, so I waved my hand at him to let him know I was still alive. I used some napkins from the side pocket to wipe my mouth and then swished with water from my water bottle. Finally, I popped in some mint gum from the console and tried to take a deep breath. At least now I wasn’t going to puke when I saw Cooper.

Not many people knew I’d never been out of the state of Wyoming, and I didn’t need to give the guy more reasons to think I was weird.

I made my way several more miles until I found the gravel turnoff marked only with a tiny black sign and the handprinted number 6793 on it. The truck bumped its way down the overgrown drive and around a corner shaded by large, overhanging pine trees. When I finally came to a break in the trees, I legit snorted.

This wasn’t a hunter’s cabin. It was a ramshackle mess made up of half-rotten old timber and hope. There was no way I was going to be able to rebuild this place if the only help I had was a preening actor who probably thought framing referred to taking the perfect selfie rather than creating the wall structure of a house.

We were in a shit ton of trouble.

Once I got clear of the trees, I saw a shiny new beige and brown RV off to the left, parked along the edge of the forest. I knew from the emails that had flown back and forth that Stallion had arranged for Cooper to pick up the RV so we’d have somewhere to live while we worked on the cabin. I’d stupidly thought it was a luxury they were offering to sweeten the deal, but now I wondered if it hadn’t been a necessity since the cabin wasn’t livable.