Chase the Storm (7 page)

“Make sure two fingers fit inthere nice and snug,”he said, his breath dancingover myear.

I was sure he noticed the violent shudder that went through me and heard the soft moan I couldn’t contain. Stepping back, he let me finish, then led me to the ring where he showed me how to mount, not an easy task withthe erectionI was sporting. Once I was on, the lessonbegan.

It was an hour of learning to turn, stop, move forward, and back up. Chase stood near Lakota’s head the entire time, going over parts of the horse, bridle, and saddle. When I’d said I wanted to learn how to ride, I’d imagined galloping through open fields with the wind in my hair as I lassoed cattle, but I never evenmade it around the ring.

“Okay, that’s enough. Time to get off.”

 

“But….” I pouted, stopping short when he widened his eyes at my rare challenge.

Sighing, I dropped my right stirrup and placed my left hand on the horn while holding the cantle with my other. Lifting my leg, I swung it over Lakota’s back and lowered myself to the ground. The muscles in my legs protested the second myfeet touched the dirt, and I fellbackward. Chase was there to catch me, his arms protectively wrapping around me, supportingme upright. Onlyhe didn’t immediatelylet me go.

Stronghands gripped mywaist as he asked huskily, “Youokay?”

“Yeah,” I gasped, and he released me. I immediately missed the sensationofhis bodyagainst mine and longed for more.
“That’s why the lesson is done. Your muscles have had enough,” he said, takingthe reins and aimingfor the barn.
I limped behind him. “But I barelydid anything.”
“Doesn’t matter. Sitting on a horse requires you to use muscles you didn’t know you had. They get sore quickly. It will get easier the more you do it.” Stopping short, I grinned at his last words. He was going to let me continue. He called over his shoulder. “C’mon, the horse can’t take offhis owntack.”
My lessons continued almost nightly, and Chase was right. Riding created anache inmylegs, ass, and back I’d never expected, and I had a growing admiration for those who did it for hours on end. There were a few light moments, although they were rare and far between, but I treasured themwhentheyhappened and let themfuelmynightlyfantasies.
Early one morning, I was doing the stalls and heard Chase humming while he groomed Keno.
“Why do all country songs sound the same?” I asked, not really expectingananswer.
“Because you’re not listening to them,” he replied, surprisingly. “The worst countrysongis better thanallthat rap kids your age listento.”
“Mozart and Bach don’t rap,” I retorted quickly. When he didn’t reply, I peeked out fromthe stall to find himstill grooming Keno, only he was smiling.
I also learned that, unlike myparents who had anentire staffto cook and clean, Chase was the ultimate independent person. At first I thought he didn’t call a repairman because he was in the middle of nowhere, but soon realized it was because there wasn’t anything Chase couldn’t fix. Everything fromthe tractor’s engine to the leak in the bathroom, he could repair it all with a screwdriver, wrench, or good old-fashioned kick. I’d never knownanyone so self-reliant, so determined to make it ontheir own without anyhelp.

D
URING
the middle of my third week, I was throwing hay onto the conveyor whenChase appeared inthe loft above me lookingdown. “Come up here a minute,” he called, not waiting for my reply before disappearing. It was what he did best.

Taking off my gloves and flinging them onto the bales, I wiped my chest off with my dirty T-shirt and made my way upstairs. I found him in the tack room looking pensively out the window. When he heard me, he picked up a dark brown cowboy hat from the trunk next to him and turned to face me.

Waving his fingers, he invited me nearer, and immediately I was standing in front of him, trying not to be intimidated by his closeness. The heat of the day radiated from us both. I wanted to stand closer, to have my chest graze his, but I stopped a few feet away and licked my dry lips. He eyed me for a few seconds before lifting his hand and gently placing the hat onmyhead, pushingdownto make sure it was onsnug.

“I’m tired of watching you squint in the sun. Besides,” he said, his lips twitching as he held back a smile, “every good cowboy deserves a hat.”

“You think I’m a good cowboy?” I beamed, looking at him from under the brim.

 

His eyes dropped to my lips for a split second before he brushed by me, his shoulder purposelybumpingmine. “Get back to work.”

 

T
HE
next day, I entered the barnjust as Chase was leavingit. “I’mgoing to meet a few guys in the north field today. The wheat is readyto come in,”he announced, givingno explanation.

 

I had no clue what was involved withharvestingwheat or how longit took. “CanI help too?”

“No. Combines are dangerous and you don’t have any experience. I have a few guys helping. Stay here at the barn and make sure you stack the haywe brought inyesterday.”
“Okay,”I said witha nod.

I kept busy with his instructions, finding other ways to occupy myself in his absence. I was curious how the harvesting worked, but I followed his orders and stayed near the barn. My stomach churned when I thought about him spending time with other men. Logically, I knew it was work, but flares of jealousy reared inside me throughout the day. When he returned at dinner, I was already eating. Other than his nose and mouth that had beenprotected bythe dirtybandana tied looselyaround his neck, he was covered in a fine, russet dust of ground winter wheat that drifted from him when he took off his hat. He ate in silence, only telling me he would be doingthe same thingthe next day.

T
HE
Sunday after the wheat was harvested, Chase entered the barn promptly at four o’clock dressed in his white shirt and black pants. From the safety of the loft, I watched as he retrieved Admiral fromthe pasture, groomed himuntil his coat gleamed, and then tacked himup. The routine was one he’d obviously done hundreds of times, but it was still done with care and patience. I finished stacking the hay just as Chase slipped the reins over Admiral’s head.

“CanI go withyou?”I blurted before I could change mymind.

He never stopped, but his shoulders squared, and without looking up, he shook his head. Mounting Admiral, Chase gave me a cursory glance from under the brim of his hat before tugging on the reins and urging the horse into a jog. I didn’t see him again before I went to bed, and I spent the night regretting my question, for interfering with something that was clearlypersonalto him. I never asked himagain.

Chase continued to give me riding lessons a few times a week, and I eventually worked up to a jog and even a lope. Lakota and I began to have a secret affair. He agreed to not buck me off, and I snuck extra grain into his bucket. While Chase let me handle all the other horses, he never once let me near Admiral, eventhoughhe seemed perfectlymanageable.

The daily physical labor did wonders for my body: my biceps grew in size and strength, and I noticed definition in my forearms and abs. My chest began to fill out, looking less like a boy’s and more like a man’s. I began to work shirtless more often, telling myself it was because it was a waste to dirty a shirt when it was too hot for one anyway. The sun, not obscured by concrete buildings, kissed my skin daily and darkened it to a bronze color while givingmy brown hair highlights ofgold. I’d never spent so much time outside, and I began to understand the lure of clear skies and open pastures. Having no desire to talk to anyone but Chase, my cell phone and laptop remained inmybag, rarelyturned onor used. The same went for my truck. When Mike called and said it would be delayed a few weeks, I told him not to worry about it, my heart warming with the thought ofspendingmore time withChase.

More often than not, I would watch himfromafar. It didn’t matter if he was running a brush over Admiral’s sleek coat or sitting on the tractor as I followed behind himpicking up hay bales, he was sheer perfection in everything he did, every miniscule movement, every ripple of his muscles, flexing of his abs, set of his square, unshaven jaw as he concentrated on his work. Even the roughness to his voice fed my appetite for him. I’d never wanted anyone, anything, as much as I wanted him. I wasn’t even sure in what way. Sometimes I wondered if I wanted himsimply because he was there, or ifit was somethingmore.

My cock told me I wanted him to fuck me, own me, take me in every position he knew. Teach me how to make him feel good, how to bring himpleasure. I wanted to know how his lips tasted after his morning coffee, how the knots in his spine felt covered in beads of moisture, how his cock smelled after a day’s work. What made him writhe and beg? How would he make me do all those things? I wanted to learn about him as much as I did his life, but my brain told me he was off limits, involved with another. Besides, he was older than I was, and why would someone like himwant someone like me? No matter how much he glared at me or walked away when I didn’t move fast enough, I fell a bit more for him everyday.

Sometimes I thought he knew the effect he had on me and liked teasing me. Once, I walked around the barn to find himstanding shirtless holding the hose over his head, the water flattening his hair, then running downhis face, shoulders, chest, and back. The top ofhis jeans was heavy and hung extra low, giving me a shy glimpse of the blond dusting of hair leadingunder the waistband. I gasped whenI saw him, and while he never acknowledged I was there, I swear the corners ofhis lips turned up.

“Fucking tease,” I said to myself as I turned and walked away, pressing my palmto my crotch to ease the ache that seemed to rest there permanently.

Chapter 4

 

A
LMOST
five weeks after arriving, I was in the middle of a lesson before dinner.

“Heels down,”Chase hollered fromthe center ofthe ring. Dressed in his standard Levi’s, button-down, and hat, he watched me jog around the ringonLakota. Suddenly, he turned toward the house.

“What?”I asked, pullingLakota to a halt.
“Someone’s here.”

Walking through the gate, he headed toward the barn. Curious, I guided Lakota out the opening and around the side of the barn to find Mike sitting in his truck talking to Chase. Halting, I dismounted and walked closer.

“Well, look at you,” Mike said as I approached. “Chase got you ridin’ and everything?”

Chase shrugged. “He asked for lessons.”
“Your truck is done,”Mike declared to me.

“What?”I’d almost forgottenI had a truck or that it was the reasonI was there to beginwith.

 

“Clutch was the last part and came in two days ago. I got it in and running. Youcancome get it and head out ofhere anytime,”he explained.

I glanced at Chase. After many hours of studying him, I knew what the clenching of his jaw and bulging vein in his neck meant. He wasn’t happy.

“Umm, okay, Mike. Thanks,”I said numbly.

 

“I can give you a ride tonight if you want,” he offered, and I saw Chase grow rigid.

 

“Go ahead,” Chase said curtly. “I’ll take care of the horses. Go get your truck.”

 

“I… I’llbe right back,”I promised Chase.

He shrugged again, only it wasn’t light, it was fullofsomething heavy weighing on his shoulders. “Well, you made it longer than I thought you would, kid.”

He ripped the reins frommy hands and turned with Lakota following him.
“I’llbe right back,”I repeated to Mike.
I ran inside and found my wallet on the table next to my bed, and then returned downstairs. Not even bothering to take off my chaps, I climbed into Mike’s truck.
“Easyonthe beast,”he commented whenI slammed the door. “Sorry.”I sighed. “Longday.”
Mike turned the truck around and started down the driveway. “So how’s it beengoing?”
Myeye never left the fields we passed. “Okay.”
“Gettingalonga’right? Not readyto turnto dust fromboredom?”
“No, I like it actually. Though….” I paused, not sure how honest I should be. “He canbe anasshole sometimes.”
“Can’t sayI blame him.”
“What do you mean?” Was Mike saying Chase was an ass because ofme livingthere?
“Just saying if I’d lost Sarah like he did Owen, I would be an ass too.”
Turning in the seat, I used the door for support and looked at him. “What do youmean?”
He glanced guiltily. “Aw, fuck, he didn’t tellyou?”
“Apparentlynot.”
He bit his lip for a few seconds before explaining. “He and Owen, his… er… um—”
“Partner, boyfriend, lover,” I suggested, letting him know I knew Chase was gay.
“Husband,” Mike supplied, and my jaw dropped. “Yeah, they got hitched inone ofthose unionthings. It wasn’t legalas far as the great state of Nebraska was concerned, but for them, it was nothing short of marriage. Whole townwas there, me included. Realnice ceremony. Sarah cried.”
Chase was married. Allthose weeks I’d beenlustingover a
married
man.
Mike continued without prompting. “They kept to themselves, had a few ranch hands help out during harvest and auction season, but mostly just them, Dodger, and the horses.”
“Who’s Dodger?”I interrupted.
“Owen’s dog, a border collie. He had him when he met Chase.” After a pause, he continued thoughtfully. “Then about three years ago, Owenwas onhis wayto Denver for anauction. Some farmingequipment, a new baler I think, but he hit some ice just over the border in Colorado. Went off the road. They say he was killed instantly, and after seeing the truck, I sure as fuck hope he was. Dodger was with him, but they never found him. He must have survived the accident but ran off. Chase hasn’t been the same since. He just lost it, could barely function after, hardly ate or slept. We were all pretty worried about him. Sarah and I tried to keep an eye on him, checked on him, invited himover for dinner every Sunday but he never came. Never seen anyone as distraught as he was. Thought he might, ya know, trysomething, but he never did.”
Suddenly it all made sense, the pictures, the brooding, the emotion that filled his eyes, his solitarylifestyle.
“Then one Sunday about a year after the accident, he showed up on our doorstep all clean shaven and grateful, his wedding ring gone and a half-sincere smile on his face. He was still a mess, but at least he was trying to hold himself together. His farmalmost went into bankruptcy. He was forced to selloff part of it to make the payment. Been struggling ever since, but he refuses to give it up. You’re the first person he’s had out there since Owen was killed. Damn shame. Owen was a good man. Always willingto help out.”
“Admiral….”I said, more to myselfthanhim.
“The horse? He was Owen’s. Spent so much time on his back, couldn’t tell where Owen ended and the horse began. Had Admiral since he was about a year old. Theytrained himtogether.”
He was Owen’s.
Mike’s words echoed in my mind, and with them I understood Chase’s reluctance to let me handle Admiral. He was Chase’s last connection to Owen—and he wanted that connection to remain untarnished byanyone else, includingme.
“Where is Owenburied?”
“On the property. There’s a willow tree in a field out back about a mile fromthe house. Wanted to keep himclose. They were married there too. I remember we used tractors to get everyone out there.” He laughed at the memory.
SuddenlyI knew where Chase went everySundaynight.
He was visitingOwen.
The damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes on Monday morning were explained.
Mike chattered the rest of the ride, but I didn’t hear much. When he pulled into the gas station, I smiled when I saw my truck parked out front. Inside the tiny office, I handed Mike $1,600 in cash and took the receipt and keys from him. He thanked me for my business and said if I was in the area again, to stop by. I didn’t tellhimI wasn’t leaving.
Running to my truck, I hopped in and started it. After driving the tractors, I was a pro at shifting and pressed in my new clutch and put the truck into first. Once I was on the road, I headed back to the farm. The part of me that had been raised by practical parents told me I needed to pack up and get the hell out of Dodge, but the rest of methe new muscles, the dirty skin, and heart in my chesttold me I needed to stay. It was where I belonged, if only temporarily. I’d learned more from only weeks of living with Chase than I had in nine months at college. I didn’t think he wanted me to leave either. Maybe I was naïve to think he wanted me there, but there was something between us. The moments were brief, more like seconds, but there were glances, a rare smile or kind word. Now that I knew about Owen, maybe, just maybe….
Pushing the truck to its limits, I bounced in my seat as I went over the dirt road, relieved when I turned into the long driveway and passed the recently cut wheat fields. The barn doors were half closed, so I knew Chase wasn’t inthere, and assumed he was inside.
Excited to tell him about my plans to stay, I jogged up the porch steps, not easy in chaps, and burst through the door. The grin I wore was wiped clear when I saw the empty kitchen. Chase wasn’t there, and there was no scent of a recently cooked dinner. Sighing, I leaned against the island, and that was whenI saw it.
Acheck made out to me in the amount of five hundred dollars. The memo said “for services provided.”
There was no note, no “thank you” or “I’ll miss you.” Nothing, absolutelyfuckingnothing.
I’d been wrong. He didn’t want me. I was nothing more than a hired hand to him, someone to help out and order around. Crumplingthe check, I went to his office, not even knocking on the door before I opened it, only to find it empty. Throwing the check on his desk, I went outside and realized his truck was gone.
He was gone.
“Fucking damn it,” I screamed before entering the house, stripping offmyclothes, and takinga hot shower.
I didn’t care what he wanted, I was fucking staying whether he liked it or not. He was going to have to throw my ass out. Too wound up to sleep, I lay on my bed in my underwear. It was after midnight before I heard the door slam downstairs, followed closely by heavy footsteps on the stairs. I listened as he paused outside my room, and I debated swinging open my door to bitch at him. Just as I was about to, he continued to his room. I waited for his door to close, but it never did.
I tossed and turned, I sighed and wondered. I’d never felt like that before. I wasn’t even sure what it was: a crush, admiration, loyalty, love? Eachemotionthat flooded me was foreignand frighteningand powerful.
Hours passed and I was stillawake. Frustrated, I got out ofbed and crossed the hall to the bathroom. I ran water and splashed it on my face. As I turned off the light, I heard a sob, muffled and contained, but still a sob.
Glancing at my reflection, I saw the man I was growing into behind young green eyes. The man who was experiencing new emotions, who realized he enjoyed physical labor, whose heart raced for the man down the hall. I wasn’t the same boywho had arrived there. I was more mature, I was making it on my own, and I was taking chances I never would have before. Leaving the bathroom, I stood in the hall and listened. The crying was constant, lonely, and grieving.
Unable to stop myself, I padded down the hall to his room. The half open door allowed me to see himsitting in a chair in front of the window. Moonlight streamed in, washing over him in a hazy, blue glow. Wearing only briefs, he held a framed picture in his lap, his fingers touching it lovingly as he stared at it, his tears splashing on the glass as they fell. On the table next to himwas a halfemptybottle ofJack Daniels.
“I miss youso much,”he said, cryingsoftly.
Even though I was the only one there, I knew he wasn’t talking to me. It was his lover, his husband, who he missed so much.
“I wish you were here, babe. This would be so much easier if you were here…,” he said in a drunken voice. Shutting his eyes, he let his head fall back against the chair. His pain was etched into every line on his face while tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed inaudibly. “I don’t know… what do to. Tellme what to do…,”he asked Owen’s ghost.
The man sitting there wasn’t the one who snarled orders or shouted at me for messingup.
Sittinginthe chair was a brokenman.
My heart ached for him, a painful tightening in my chest, and when I adjusted my weight to relieve it, the floorboards under me squeaked. His eyes shot open and went straight to me. I stood completely still, afraid to move or speak.
“Whaddaya want?” he slurred, trying to sound authoritative in his drunkenness.
“I—I—nothing,”I stuttered, embarrassed at havingbeencaught.
“Go,”he croaked, but I didn’t move.
He stood, swaying and losing his balance. Immediately, I rushed to his side, wrapping one armaround his waist. I’d barely touched himwhen he lifted a hand and shoved me, knocking me back a few steps. Not giving up, I embraced himagain. He fought me again, trying to wring from my hold, but it was useless in his state. He gave up resisting even before we moved. I tried to ignore the way his bare skin felt against mine, how it burned all the places we were touching, and the way his liquored breath felt onmyface. Leaningagainst me, he let me support himand lead himto his bed. My knees butted it and I turned him, slowly easing him onto the mattress. He fell clumsily, completely missing the pillow. Curving a hand around the back of his head, my fingers entwining for the first time in his thick, silkyhair, I lifted himand moved his pillow under him.
His watery eyes, glimmering in the moonlight, gazed up at me. The turmoilI saw in themdaily was gone, replaced by a tranquility I wished to find myself someday. Taking advantage of him, I ran a finger down his streaked cheek, drawing his eyes closed with the movement. Pausing at his lips, I ranthe pad ofmyforefinger over thembefore pullingback. With great effort, his eyes drifted open again, and the tears brimming on the edge traveled downhis face.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. “I just haven’t felt like this since him.” He attempted to lift his hand to me, but it fell heavily onto his chest. My heart, already pounding because of our proximity, halted at his confession. Could he mean what I hoped he did, or was it just the alcohol talking?
Resisting the urge to kiss him, to discover how he tasted, I covered his hand withmine, lettingit linger as I spoke. “I’llsee youinthe morning.”
“You’re leaving,”he sighed weakly, determinedlyholdingmygaze.
I shook my head and gave him a weak smile. “I’m not going anywhere,”I vowed.
With that, his eyes closed again, and he smiled. Straightening, I took the neatly folded blanket at the end of his bed and covered him with it. Lying on his chest, still embraced in his arms, was the picture of Owen. He’d never let it go, and somethingtold me he never would.
For the next few minutes, I stood over him, waiting until his chest rose witheven, sleepybreaths before I turned and left.
Back in my room, I lay on my bed, staring out the window at the almost fullmoon. The ache inmychest remained, and sleep never came.
Rollingover, I eyed the clock, watchingthe minutes tick byuntilit hit 4:00 a.m. Sighing, I got out of bed and dressed in the dark, like I did every morning. Barefooted, I walked down the hall to Chase’s roomand partially opened his door. He was still on his back, almost in the same position I’d left himin, his head to the side and his lips parted in a sound sleep. The tears had dried, leaving behind tracks, but his features were serene, his anguish not visible in his sleep. Owen’s picture still lay on his chest with one hand protectively fanned on it. Closing his door, I went to the bathroom, using the toilet and brushing my teeth before carrying my sneakers downstairs, makingsure to avoid the creakysteps onmyway.
Just outside the screen door, I stopped to put on my sneakers and then made my way to the barn. Sliding the door open, I was greeted with soft nickering.
“Morning,” I said to them as I turned on the lights and they blinked fromthe brightness.
Halfasleep, I grained and watered the horses, chattingwitheachone when I dumped their breakfast in their buckets. Once they were fed, I started letting them out, leading them to the pasture one by one. After putting Keno out, I returned to find Admiral staring longingly at his friends outside.
“Sorry, buddy. He’ll be down soon,” I said as I pushed the wheelbarrow to the first stall.
I’d finished four stalls and the sun was just rising when I heard footsteps down the aisle. Keeping my head down, I glanced up at himas he walked bythe stall. He never looked myway.
“Hey, boy,” he greeted Admiral, patting his neck. “Let’s get you outside.” The door slid open and Admiral’s hooves clopped on the ground as Chase led himout. Chase returned to the barn, stoppinginfront of the stall I was in. “I need you to load the trailer up with fifty bales for a deliverytomorrow.”
There was no roughness in his voice. There was also no “thanks for last night.” Maybe he didn’t remember. Maybe he’d woken up and ignored the bottle ofliquor onhis table. Maybe he was embarrassed.
“Sure,”I agreed.
“I’ll be back for lunch.” He walked away a few steps before stopping. Turninghis head slightly, he murmured, “Thanks.”
I wasn’t sure if he was thanking me for doing my job, letting him sleep in, or the night before, but it didn’t matter, he was gone before I could reply.
As I continued mucking out the stalls, I occasionally saw him as he worked, but whenI heard the tractor running, I knew he’d gone out to the field to cut more grass. I loaded the trailer, throwing bales into it fromthe loft before stacking them neatly to fit them all in. Chase still hadn’t returned, so I found myself with a few tools in front of the pasture’s crooked metal gate. I fingered the hinge, holding it to the wooden rails. I had no idea what I was doing, but I undid a few screws, realigned the bracket to an unused part ofwood and screwed themback in as much as I possibly could, using what strength I’d gained in the weeks I’d been there. Lakota walked over, swinging his head low as he neared. Reaching me, he shoved his velvet nose throughthe rails and snorted onme.