3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Hermie

Finding two jobs in one day? No way could I control my mouth and my excitement.

The stutter was back because I tried to speak too quickly, so I finally took a deep breath and made my pitch. Bare accepted it and added a truck for me to use so I had a way to get to the diner. I just had to tell him I didn’t have a driver’s license.

“Shayna used the bedroom back here, but like I said, there are more bedrooms upstairs.”

Bare escorted me to the bedroom off the laundry room, and I settled my bags there, happy to learn there was a separate full bath. It was much better than any of the places I’d lived while I was trying to become a chef.

Sleeping on the floor of a studio apartment shared by four people in Austin was the least desirable of my adventures. Once was enough, and I hoped never to do it again.

“This is great. Thank you.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to settle in.” Bare left the room, and a moment later, I heard the back kitchen door close, meaning he went outside. It was a relief to learn he wasn’t a hoverer.

My fervent hope was that without someone shouting over my shoulder, I’d be able to show my talents as a chef and create fantastic dishes of my own. That would be the manifestation of my lifelong dream. My big f-you to all the people in my life who told me I was damaged and would never make anything of myself.

I stripped the unmade bed, tossing the dirty sheets and the towels from the bathroom into the washer. Thankfully, there were clean ones in the bathroom closet, which reminded me I needed to ask Bare about housekeeping. If he needed me to take care of the house, I wouldn’t mind. I was just happy to have the job and a place to sleep, I’d make the most of it for as long as it lasted.

I quickly unpacked my sparse belongings, wondering what Sarah, my mother, did with the rest of my things when she moved. I was guessing they went into a dumpster somewhere, which made me sad. Some of the items I’d left with her were sentimental, but maybe not enough because I didn’t take them with me when I originally left.

The house was warm, so I changed into a short-sleeved, white T-shirt and went to the kitchen to peruse the large refrigerator and the cabinets, assessing the offerings for creating a Thanksgiving menu. I needed to know how many would be attending, and if there were any special dietary needs, much like we’d asked at all my former jobs.

The back door opened, and Bare returned, sliding off his boots in the mudroom and hanging his coat and Houston Riggers cap on the hooks outside. His face was red from the raw wind, but he was still breathtaking.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” I asked slowly.

Bare grinned. “I do. What can I—Oh, let me go change the bed for you. I’m gonna guess Shayna didn’t do it.”

“I-I did it.” Would he ever not make me nervous?

Bare stared at me for a moment and smiled. “I’m sorry you had to do that. Shayna didn’t keep house. Anita Ramsey comes once a week and cleans for me. Paula helps her if I need the rest of the bedrooms opened in case someone is coming for a visit.”

I nodded. “Sure, of course.”

Bare laughed. “I don’t expect you to clean up after me. The hands in the bunk house take care of their space, especially since two of them are women. They won’t put up with the guys living like pigs.”

I grinned, not trusting my voice to utter a response, though his comment was funny. His beautiful golden eyes were hypnotic, and when he smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkled, showing that laughing and smiling were something he did often.

Bare wasn’t old at all, but he had a weathered look, probably from spending time in the summer sunshine and the harsh winds of winter. It was hard to get my brain to engage so I could listen as I watched his mouth move.

“Uh, I’m sorry. I think we should t-talk about my issues.” I probably should have waited until I had a good night’s sleep to broach the subject, but I had to be honest with Bare. I didn’t want to take advantage of his good nature. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Sure. We can talk. First, though, do we need to go to the grocery before it closes?”

I glanced at the clock on the front of the microwave to see it was just after five. “Not for tomorrow. What do you w-want to eat tonight? The hands need d-dinner?” My palms were sweating, so I rubbed them on my jean-covered thighs.

“No. Lou said they’re all going to The Horseshoe Bar & Grill tonight. I’ll be fine with a frozen pizza.”

“I can make you a fresh pizza.” I spoke very slowly, not wanting to stutter when I spoke to him.

“You can? Do you not eat frozen pizza?” He grinned at me as he sat at the table with a stack of mail.

“I haven’t had it in a long time, but I’m sure I can make a better one. I’m not trying to sound cocky. Fresh is always better than processed, right?”

Bare chuckled. “That’s what they say.”

“I believe you have everything I need. I won’t need anything more for tomorrow. You’re pretty well stocked. I’ll clean out the turkeys after I make our pizza. We don’t want cross-contamination.”

“I won’t argue with homemade pizza. There’s a large chest freezer in the pantry along with the other refrigerator and the shelves for extra supplies. It feels unfair to ask you to jump in to make Thanksgiving dinner on your first day. I’ll offer myself as your helper, but as you saw today, I’m not a cook. I can clean up like a son of a gun, though.”

His infectious smile caused me to grin in return. He was beautiful and seemed to be a jovial guy. I wanted to meet his mood, so I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, attempting to release all the tension in my body as I’d been taught by more than one therapist.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Bare studying me. “You okay? I don’t want you to be afraid or worried about being here with me alone. I’m a big guy, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

I felt guilty, so I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I’m not afraid to be here, Bare, honest. I’m neurodivergent, and I have more than a little anxiety. It might take me a bit of time to get used to things around here, but I’ll work hard not to be a problem.

“That’s why I had a hard time working in restaurants. I get nervous and I stutter, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not violent or anything—”

“Oh, god, Hermie, I never thought anything of the sort. Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you around here? I can tell the guys to eat in the bunkhouse.”

I stepped closer to the table and grabbed the back of a kitchen chair. “Please don’t do that. That will bring on my anxiety because it would mean a change to their routine because of me. I’m the n-new one here. I’m sorry about the stutter. I’ll try to get it—”

Bare stood and walked around to where I stood. “No, Hermie. Please don’t worry about that at all. I want you to think of this as your home, okay? You should never feel uncomfortable here.” His right hand landed on my shoulder before he pulled away.

“Sorry. I, uh, I might be a little touchy-feely. If it bugs you, tell me.”

I stared at him. “No, it doesn’t bug me. I think it’s nice.”

Before he responded, Bare held out his hand, so I put mine in it. He pulled me closer and hugged me. He rubbed his hand over my back, soothing me in a way I’d never been soothed before. I exhaled again, but not because I was nervous. It was the calmest that I’d ever felt in my life.

“How’s this? Is it horrible for you, because I’ll tell you, it’s perfect for me.” Bare continued to hold me in his arms. I could have stayed forever.

There was a knock on the back door, so we stepped apart. I quickly gathered ingredients to make the pizza dough.

Bare opened the door, and I heard a familiar laugh. “I thought Lou was lyin’. Hermie, man, how are ya?”

Chuck Flora stepped into the kitchen in his stocking feet and stared at me for a second before I gave him a hug. I pulled back and stared into his eyes. “I’m good. How are you?”

Chuck laughed. “I’m doin’ good. You haven’t changed a bit.”

Sadly, that was true. “I see a ring.”

Chuck held up his hand and grinned. “I’ve got a kid now, if you can believe that. Her name is Posey, and she’s almost four. Her and her momma keep my ass in line.”

“I bet. So, you got the Christmas gift you wanted?” I was teasing him because the last time we worked together, he wanted a blow job from Paula Ramsey for Christmas.

“I got that and more, my friend. Are you sticking around for a while? I’d love you to meet Paula and Posey. They’ll love you.”

“I-I just…”

Bare stepped forward. “How about you bring Paula and Posey over on Friday night. I’m opening the tree lot at noon and closing it at five, so we can have a get together if you want. I’ll be happy to grill some burgers and hot dogs, and we can have a bonfire to kick off the Christmas season.”

I turned to Bare. “A tree lot?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Mom loved an Afghan pine Christmas tree, so Dad planted a bunch of them every year so the family could cut them when the trees were mature. My brothers moved away, and my parents are gone, so I opened it up to the neighbors. It’s on the side of the property along Bishop’s Lane. I donate the money to a food bank that serves Howard County.”

That touched me like nothing had in a long time. “Do you put up decorations here at the ranch?”

It was a ridiculous question because it didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t my home. It was his, and as I thought about it, would I still be here at Christmas? I doubted anyone could stand me for that long, so I shouldn’t get my hopes up. I refused to court disappointment.