Stable Hill Page 17

  “Okay.” Think. Say something, idiot. Ask a question. A good one. “So… why was she mad?”

  “Because she’s straight.”

  Oh. Fuck. “She doesn’t like that you’re gay, huh?” Coming out was hard. He’d gotten used to the reactions, but it never seemed to get easier.

  “No. That’s not why. It’s that she only wants to be friends.”

  Oh. “So she doesn’t care if you’re gay?”

  “Why would she care that I’m gay?”

  He blinked and walked around Angel to look at Sophie. “Why would she care?”

  “Yeah. Nobody cares about that stuff anymore. I mean, not my friends. Old people maybe, but not us.”

  Old people, maybe. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Kids around here actually were growing up letting people be people. Whoa.

  “Also, I didn’t say I was gay, Russ. You just assumed that.”

  He blinked. “So liking girls doesn’t make you gay.”

  “Nope. But you’d probably have to be queer to get it.”

  Was this conversation happening? He was so confused. “I’m gay. Did I say I was straight?”

  It was Sophie’s turn to blink at him. Then she grinned. “Wait. You?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  “Well, we both assumed, I guess.”

  He felt better. “So you’re… what, then? Bisexual?”

  “Pansexual.”

  “Oh! I know what that is! That’s when you like everybody, right?”

  “Yep.” She smiled at him. “Maybe you’re not that old.”

  He hoped not. He switched out her curry comb for a body brush. “Long strokes, with the grain. And you can go right down her legs too.”

  Sophie went to town, brushing and stroking and grooming like she was born with a brush in her hand.

  “You ever seen our little herd make the run back to the barn before?”

  “No.”

  “All right. You’re in for some fun, then. Let’s get Angel back in her stall.” He showed her how to walk a horse into a stall, then shut the door and pulled out his phone. “Just texting your dad so he’ll know where you are if he shows up.”

  If you’re looking for us, we’re taking a trip up to the big paddock to send the horses home.

  I’m actually in the house having a cup of coffee. How is it going?

  Oh, for crying out loud. That shouldn’t have surprised him one bit. Very well.

  Sophie had trusted him, and he didn’t know how confidential she’d meant it to be. He had no intention of outing her.

  “Okay, ready?”

  On the way out, he gave Miles the heads-up to have the barn ready. They took the walk up to the paddock, not talking much, mostly because Sophie was looking around, taking in the place. He understood why Oscar needed to sell the farm, but it would have been so good for her to grow up here, with all of this. Hopefully Oscar would see for himself now how much she loved it and at least get her some lessons.

  He showed Sophie where to stand so she’d be out of the way and then leaned on the paddock gate and whistled. The horses had been meandering over anyway once they saw him and Sophie coming up the way, so it didn’t take long before they were close enough to run. He swung the gate open, and they took off at a trot for the barn. When the last one was through, he closed the gate again.

  “Wow.”

  “Right? Isn’t that a beautiful thing to see?”

  “They just know where they’re going?”

  “They know it’s suppertime. They’re no dummies.” He grinned at her. “Still. It’s fun.” They waited for the dust to settle a bit and then headed back to the barn. “Your dad is at the house.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He glanced at her. “He’s a good guy, your dad.”

  “My stepdad, but yeah. He’s great.”

  “Sorry. I meant that, I just… he thinks of himself as your dad. I’m sure it’s hard for all of you.”

  “It’s… bad sometimes. Okay other times. I love Oz.”

  He smiled, deciding that was a good place to leave it, and didn’t say anything more about that.

  “Do you do lessons here?”

  How was he supposed to answer that one? He’d teach her, but… selling the farm. “Well, until the farm sells, I’d be happy to teach you a few things.” He would too. Be happy, that is. She was a nice girl, and they shared this horse thing.

  “I’ll talk to Oz.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He walked her through the barn so she could see everyone all tucked into their stalls and eating, and then they made their way up to the house.

  “Y’all wanna stay for supper?”

  “Thanks, Russ. But I need to—”

  “Please?” Sophie chimed in.

  Oscar looked at her, then at him with a raised eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “I… uh. Well? Let me call Grandma Rose.”

  Oscar made the call, and then suddenly Russ was hosting them for supper. This was great. He was wrung-out and exhausted, but this was great anyway.

  This was—well, this would be, hopefully, one day—his family.

  He’d resisted the idea for a while until he realized that he’d already thought of Oscar as family long before their first kiss. And Jeff would fit right in here, right now.

  Speaking of…. “Let Jeff know you’re staying?”

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  “It’s okay with me if you want him to—”

  “Russ….”

  Oh, shit. Sophie. She seemed into her phone, though, so maybe she hadn’t been listening.

  Damn.

  When was Oscar going to tell the family? It had been nearly a week. He knew Sophie was on his lover’s mind at the moment, but he’d been helpful with that, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he be allowed to have that status?

  Maybe he was just being a brat again. He sighed.

  “Have you talked to Jeff yet about the people that saw the property today? They seemed pretty interested. Though I think maybe more in the land than the barn.”

  “Wait. People came by today?”

  “Yeah, a big group. They had surveyors and suits and cameras and all kinds of shi—tuff.”

  “I haven’t talked to him, no.” A cloud fell over Oscar’s face, and he started texting furiously.

  Shit. Well, Russ decided he’d better stay out of whatever that was and start supper. A little shrimp and grits would go down well with everyone, right? His phone started blowing up, but he ignored it, letting his men work it out.

  “Sophie? Would you mind setting the table?” He could keep her busy for a few minutes, surely. “The silverware is in the drawer there.”

  “I know, Russ.” She rolled her eyes at him as she pushed off the counter.

  “Right. Of course you do. Sorry.” The girls hadn’t spent a lot of time here the last handful of years, but Sophie was older. Of course she remembered.

  Sophie stuffed her phone into her back pocket and pulled out silverware.

  “There’s still a million different placemats in the sideboard. Pick whatever ones you like.”

  “There were always a gazillion. Grandpa said Grandma collected them.”

  Placemats, little silver spoons, things with her initials on them—Jonas had pointed them all out to him. It was a shame none of the girls had known Oscar’s mother. The way Jonas talked about her, he would have liked to have known her himself.

  Oscar finally tossed his phone on the counter with a sigh, face stormy.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine. What’s for dinner?” He watched as Oscar fixed his posture and schooled his expression.

  “Shrimp and grits. Are you sure?”

  “Just Realtor stuff. Hmm?”

  “Oh. Right.” He got the hint and shook his head.

  “You want me to put out anything else?” Sophie asked, leaning in the kitchen doorway.

  “No, I think that’s it, Sophie. Thanks.”

/>   “Thanks for helping, sweetheart. You hungry?”

  “Yeah. Super hungry. I didn’t eat today.”

  He pointed. “There’s some apples in a bowl over there and some granola bars in the breadbox.”

  “Oh. Thanks, Russ.”

  Oscar looked between them. “So what did you guys get up to today?”

  “Well, I’d had a long night because a raccoon got in the barn—”

  “I spread straw, I helped with food and water, and I got to groom Angel. She’s so sweet.”

  “Sounds like fun. And then you got to watch everybody run in for dinner? Grandpa and Lionel taught them to do that, you know. And every time we got a new horse, all the older ones would teach the new one where to go. Grandpa did that for years and years.”

  “Yeah. It was cool.” Sophie was munching on a granola bar.

  “You seem like you’re feeling better.”

  Sophie shrugged. “I want to take riding lessons. Russ said he would teach me as long we still owned the farm.”

  “Oh.” Oscar looked at him. “Well… you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t,” he said, sure of himself. “Miss Sophie and I had a nice afternoon, didn’t we?”

  Sophie nodded. “It was fun. I like the horses. Can I ride, Oz? Please?”

  “Sure. Of course. I just have to figure out transportation and all. It’s a bit of a drive.”

  “Thank you!” Sophie hugged her arms around Oscar so tight it made his lover’s eyes pop.

  “Thank you.” Oscar mouthed at him over the girl’s head.

  He smiled and shrugged and went back to making supper, feeling pretty good about the whole thing. He could do this kid gig maybe. They weren’t all that different from horses.

  Oscar took Sophie into the living room to sit down, so he let them talk while he cooked. She had a lot on her mind, and her father was the one she should be talking to. Though she’d trusted him, and that made him feel all warm inside.

  Supper went over really well. Turned out Sophie loved shrimp. Go him. He’d added a little spicy sausage, garlic, and cheddar cheese to the grits, and Oscar just ate it up. He was so proud of himself, he forgot he was supposed to be tired.

  “Thank you for dinner, Russ. Last-minute and everything. It was so good.”

  “It was my pleasure, I mean it.”

  Sophie looked at him like she was going to say something but didn’t. At least not at first. She gave him a smile and a nod. “I had a good time. Thank you for… thanks.” She shrugged, and he winked at her.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for the help. And the talk.”

  “Oz says we’ll look at the calendar and figure when is a good time to ride.”

  “Probably a weekend morning.” Oscar put his arm around her, just as proud and protective as anything. It was sweet. Such a good dad.

  “That works. I’m always here.”

  “All right, then. I better get this girl home and in bed so she can go to school tomorrow.”

  Russ gave Sophie a light hug. “Good for you.”

  She nodded at him. “It’s all good.”

  He leaned in for a real hug from Oscar, but his lover slipped it into a bro-hug instead. “Night, man.”

  It felt like a stabbing knife to his heart. “Good night.” He headed for the front door and opened it. “I’ll see you soon, Sophie.” She headed out to the truck, and he stopped Oscar in the doorway to look at him. “Really?”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t…. I’m going to. Soon.”

  “Great. Call me when you do.”

  “Russ—”

  “I’m out, Oscar. I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not interested in pretending. Either you—”

  Either you love me or you don’t.

  “I’m not going back in the closet. Any closet.”

  “I’ll call you, Russ. Soon. And I’ll see you Saturday.”

  He just shrugged. They would see each other on Saturday, wouldn’t they? That kind of took what little power he still had to negotiate away from him. Dammit. “Good night, Oscar.”

  “Good night.”

  He closed the front door and doubled over, bracing his hand on his knees and breathing through the ache in his chest. Fuck, that hurt—one distant hug threatened to ruin this whole day.

  He took a deep breath and straightened up, then headed for the kitchen to do the dishes. He was tired, that was all. Exhausted. He was making something out of nothing. Or maybe nothing out of something… did it matter? He needed to clean up, shower, maybe have a shot of something, and then get his ass in bed.

  Tomorrow was another day. Horses waited. Stalls waited. His life, whatever defined him now, waited. He’d think about that tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  OSCAR WAS tempted to call Jeffrey when he got home, but by the time he got Sophie tucked in and told Rose about their day, it was late and he was tired. He was angry too, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it. He’d expressly said no commercial buyers. No developers. He wanted a real farmer who would use the property as it was intended. He wasn’t sure what Jeffrey was up to. Would Jeffrey have shown the property to commercial buyers without permission if he were a regular client? Someone Jeffrey wasn’t sleeping with?

  He hated that they’d argued over text, though, and he didn’t like leaving things the way they had. That was his fault. He should have just waited until he got home or until this morning.

  Not that he felt all that much better this morning—he hadn’t gotten very restful sleep.

  But all the girls got off to school on time, including Sophie, who was being so brave. They’d discussed her identity and her sexuality a couple of months ago. It had gone much better than his still-unfinished safe-sex talk with Emily had, but he honestly hadn’t expected Sophie to act on anything for a while. Apparently he’d been naïve. The fact that she already “liked” a girl, whether she really understood what that meant or not, was lightyears ahead of what he was prepared for.

  Your girls… our girls are growing up too fast, Emmett.

  Fast was pretty much the theme of his life right now. Everything was changing, and some of it was so beyond his control it was unnerving.

  Some of it, though, he absolutely needed to have control over. He’d taken a sick day and was driving toward Jeffrey’s office, hoping his Realtor was in. He’d like to see his lover too, frankly, but they had business first. He’d texted to let Jeffrey know he was coming before he left, but he didn’t wait for a reply, and many years of young children in his minivan had broken him of the habit of checking his phone while driving.

  He pulled into the parking lot, still not sure what he was going to say. He didn’t want to fight, but he needed to be clear. He thought he had been clear. He took a deep breath, went inside, and stopped at the reception desk.

  “Good morning. I’m here to see Mr. Stokes.”

  “Jeff is waiting for you.” The girl behind the desk smiled at him. “Last office on the left.”

  “Thank you.” He made his way back, passing one office after another until he got to the end of the hall. Jeffrey appeared in the doorway.

  “Mr. Kennedy. Come on in. Thanks for coming by,” Jeffrey said with a totally impersonal tone, waiting until he was inside to close the door.

  “Mr. Kennedy, huh?”

  “Well, as far as they know you’re a client.”

  “I am a client.”

  Jeffrey sighed. “Okay, Oz. I hear you. I know you’re upset. But—”

  “Did I not make myself clear, Jeffrey?”

  “You did, but—”

  “There’s no ‘but,’ Jeffrey. I’m not interested in a commercial buyer. Period. But I know you know that or you would have told me who you were bringing out there yesterday.”

  “Oscar. Would you listen to me a minute?”

  He eyed Jeffrey for a second, then leaned back in his chair. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. First of all, I was going to tell you the other night when I called, but the
n you told me that Sophie was upset and you sounded like what you really needed was for me to listen, not add to your stress. So I’m sorry. I made a judgment call, and I admit it may have been a bad one.”

  Oh.

  Well, damn. Jeffrey had been looking out for him. He sighed. “Maybe, but… thanks.”

  Jeffrey laughed softly. “Wow, was it that painful?”

  He grinned and shook his head. “Shut up.”

  “Okay. This is the hard part, but I’m hoping you hear me out.” Jeffrey gestured for him to take a seat on a wide leather couch, and Jeffrey sat with him. It felt like bad news was coming.

  “It’s my job to help you consider your options and make a good business decision. The sale of a house can be very emotional, but the bottom line is basically a dollar figure.”

  “I don’t need a real estate lecture, Jeffrey.”

  “All due respect, Oz? You do.”

  He sat up, offended. “There’s more to this than the bottom line.”

  “Is there?” Jeffrey looked at him. “Why? Because you grew up in that house? Because it was your father’s? You’re selling it, Oscar. You can’t afford to be sentimental.”

  “What? I thought we agreed on this. It’s farmland. I want it to stay that way. The number of operational farms like Stable Hill is dwindling every year, Jeffrey. It’s important to preserve the farms we have.”

  “Then keep it.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t afford to keep it.” Why the hell would he be selling it if he could?

  “Okay.” Jeffrey stood up and paced the length of his office. “Here’s what I can tell you. I’m waiting on the offer from the developers just so you can compare and so that I know you understand what you’re turning down. You’ve had six or seven families looking for farms come through and no offers. They want more house. The property might sell but only well below asking price if you don’t renovate the house.”

  “I don’t have the cash to renovate the house, and even if I did, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a farmhouse. Maybe it needs a little spit shine. I’m still planning to paint it inside and out. That I can do. I can do a little landscaping maybe.”

  “It needs more than that, Oscar.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Look, are you going to listen to me or not? I’m trying to do my job, here.”