7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Bare

“What’s going on?”

Chuck was staring at me as I drove us to the diner to get his old truck after we stopped at the store for buns, chips, and cokes. I picked up a couple cases of beer at the QuikTrip since it was on sale, and then I drove Chuck to the diner.

“Will you take the beer home and ice it up in the big cooler in the garage? Put it out by the firepit? I’ll be right behind you. I wanna see if Shirley made any pies.”

Chuck nodded as I pulled into the diner parking lot. I handed him the keys and he went to his old truck, giving me a wave as he got in. I went inside to see who was working. Jane was taking an order at the counter while Andrea Lang, a young, single mother of two little girls, cleaned a table by the window. I’d met Andrea before Hermie came to town, and she seemed nice. She’d been gone for Thanksgiving with her family when Hermie showed up at the diner that Wednesday morning when we met.

“Hi, Mr. Barrett. What can I get you?” Andrea asked as she carried away a tray of dirty dishes.

“I’d like to talk to Jane if she has a minute.”

Andrea nodded, walked over to Jane, and whispered something before pointing toward me. Jane scowled and slowly walked over to me. “What, Decker? I’m working, you know. Shirley went to see Lute, and I’m short a cook since that—”

I held up my hand. “Stop right there before you say something mean as we all know you’re prone to do. I understand that you want to buy the diner from Shirley and Luther, and I’m all for you starting a new career if that’s what you’d like to do. What I absolutely won’t tolerate is you being rude to Hermie. I want you to come by the ranch and apologize to him.”

“You want me to apologize to a total stranger because I called him a stranger ?” Jane shook her head as though my request was ridiculous.

“No, I want you to apologize to Hermie because you were horribly rude and critical of whim when you didn’t have to be. He’s a nice young man, and you were a bitch.” There, I said what everyone in Kingsley was thinking.

Jane grew up in Kingsley, moved away for college, and recently returned after she divorced her husband, Micah Cole. She’d gone to school with my older brother, Thomas, who lived out in Spokane with his wife. My younger brother, Mark, lived in Eckhardt, Kansas, where he managed a small bank.

Neither of my brothers had returned to Kinglsey since Mom and Dad were killed because my parents left the ranch to me and nothing to my brothers. Neither of them had ever taken to ranch life, while I’d always loved it.

Brian Barrett was a cantankerous, unfeeling bastard on his best day. Cutting out my brothers was his final heinous act, but I made it right for all our sakes.

“No, Jane. I want you to apologize for trying to intimidate him into quitting so you could pressure Shirley to sell out to you. If you don’t want me to get in your way when it comes time for you to get financing for this place, come out to the ranch and apologize. You can get a tree from the lot to brighten your home for the holiday season.” Maybe a little blackmail and bribery were in order?

Jane exhaled. “Fine. You want me to come out and apologize to the kid because you’re gonna screw him? Fine.”

“That’s not why, Jane. Hermie’s a great guy, and he didn’t deserve your bullshit. And you know that, too. Is Grace with Connie this weekend?”

I really wanted to talk to Jane’s daughter, Grace, or Gracie, as she was known around the club where her Daddy, Conrad Howard, and I belonged. Hermie seemed to like Grace when we all worked together on Wednesday, and I hoped maybe she could be a friend to him in the same fashion Conrad, had been a mentor and friend to me when I figured out my role-play kink.

In my gut, I had the feeling Hermie would benefit from having a Daddy, and I wanted it to be me. He already consumed my thoughts. I just needed to feel him out on his feelings about the rest of it, and I wanted him to have a resource—like Grace—to talk to about things if he didn’t feel comfortable talking to me.

“Of course she’s with the pervert. Why?” Obviously, Jane’s hatred for Grace’s Daddy was still alive and well. Grace and Connie had been together for three years since he’d met her the summer after she graduated high school.

Jane couldn’t do anything about the two of them seeing each other because Grace was eighteen when they met and could do as she wished. Jane was someone who needed to be in control, so the compromise was that Grace would stay living at home until she turned twenty-one, which would be Christmas Day.

I knew from Connie that Grace was moving with him to Abilene, but I wasn’t opening my mouth. The devil on my shoulder wanted to be around when Grace reminded her mother she was leaving, but I didn’t say it out loud.

I held the laugh as I thought about the upcoming news, and said, “You need to get laid, Jane. Come out to the tree farm tomorrow and apologize.” I stood and tossed a twenty on the counter for her time before I walked out.

We had pie at home that Hermie had made for Thanksgiving. We didn’t need anything from the diner except Jane’s apology, and if she didn’t come through, she’d regret it.

I’d taken my father’s place on the board of directors for the Kingsley Ranchers’ Bank. No way would she get financing for the diner if she didn’t do as I said.

Yeah, maybe I had a few control issues of my own.

It was a beautiful fall evening in the low seventies, so we were enjoying dinner outside on the patio. Hermie had found my mother’s linens in the butler’s pantry beside the kitchen and had set the table with a fall-leaf tablecloth and napkins. It reminded me of the things my mom used to do when we were all growing up.

“This potato salad is incredible, Hermie.” Paula was sitting on the same side of the picnic table as Chuck, and we’d been talking and laughing about things that happened at the tree lot earlier in the day.

“Thank you, Paula. It’s a French-style with Dijon mustard and olive oil instead of mayo. It doesn’t spoil as easily as a mayonnaise-based potato salad.”

It seemed that when Hermie discussed something that wasn’t directly tied to him, he was less uneasy. I hadn’t had the opportunity to test my theory about his anxiety, but I would try to make it happen on Saturday afternoon.

“Posey, how are those tots? Hermie made them just for you.” I looked at the sweet little redhead who looked just like her mother until she opened her mouth to show the chewed-up mess to me. She had her father’s personality.

“They’re real good. Thank you, Hermie.” Posey’s glowing smile was beautiful. Hermie’s returning grin warmed my heart.

“You like them? You want more?” Hermie was so damn eager to please her, and he didn’t seem to panic at all.

“Yes, please.”

Hermie started to get up from the table, but I touched his thigh. “I got it.” I took Posey’s plate into the kitchen and loaded it up with four more of the large tots that Hermie had left in the warmer.

I carried the plate outside and stared at Hermie as he listened to Posey tell him a story about her pony at Papa Lou’s house. Hermie’s smile was radiant. He was meant to be at Bare Ranch with me. I just had to convince him of the same.

“Here you go, beautiful.” I put the plate down in front of Posey and took my seat next to Hermie. He was finishing a hot dog and watching him eat it was killing me. I shouldn’t be thinking such dirty thoughts as I sat at the table with everyone, but I couldn’t help myself. I longed to have that luscious mouth around my cock.

“Hermie, how was culinary school?” Chuck smiled as he fixed himself another hamburger.

I placed my hand on Hermie’s leg under the table and squeezed, trying to alleviate any nerves he might have. When his right hand touched mine, it was exhilarating.

“It was great. I learned a lot. It’s good to see you again. Paula, how do you put up with this guy?” Hermie giggled as he pointed to Chuck, and there wasn’t a nerve in sight, which was fantastic.

Paula grinned. “It ain’t easy, Hermie. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too, Paula.” Hermie turned to me with a smile. “Who wants s’mores?”

The excitement on Posey’s face at having such a treat made Hermie giggle. He hurried inside, so I followed him.

“You need any help?” I stopped to watch him rushing around the kitchen. He was grabbing ingredients and putting them on a tray I was happy to hold for him.

“Can you get the steel skewers from the counter? Half of the fun of making s’mores is putting them together.” The giggle that followed lit my blood on fire.

I stared at Hermie for a moment. Damn if I didn’t fall in love with him right there. He wanted to make people happy. The gorgeous young man wanted to know he’d made an impression, and he had on those around the picnic table. He’d certainly made one on me.

Chuck, Paula, and Posey left around eight that evening, and cleanup from our cookout had been minimal. “Feel like watching a movie?” I had finished drying and putting away the hand-washed tools and pots Hermie had used to make dinner.

“I-I think I m-m-might turn in.”

I glanced at him. There were smudges under his eyes to confirm he was indeed exhausted, so I took his hand and led him back to his bedroom. “Put on your pajamas and come up to my room. We can start a movie, and if you fall asleep, I’ll bring you back down and put you in your bed. I’ll get you a television for your room as soon as I can get to the store.

“Listen, you don’t need to get up at four-thirty in the morning. I’ll send a message to Tilda that breakfast will be at eight from now on, and she can tell the rest of them. There’s no need for you to get up so damn early.” I wasn’t joking, either.

Hermie walked to the dresser and opened the middle drawer. “I don’t want to be a bother to you, B-Bare.”

“You aren’t a bother at all. Now, get going. I’ll be upstairs. We need to have a little talk anyway.”

His eyebrows knitted together and he bit his lip, which wasn’t my intention at all. I stepped closer and pulled his lip from between his teeth before kissing his wrinkled forehead. “Nothing to worry about, I promise.”

I turned off the kitchen lights except for the one over the sink that I left on in case Hermie needed it. I went up to my room and jumped into the shower, quickly washing up before brushing my teeth.

I wiped the mirror with a towel to clear the steam and ran my fingers through my short brown hair, which had accumulated a hell of a lot of grays in the last few years. I wasn’t about to do anything rash about it, so I concentrated on my beard, deciding it needed a little maintenance. I trimmed it and put some beard oil on it to make it soft, and then I wrapped a bath towel around my waist.

When I stepped into my room, Hermie was standing by the bay window overlooking the pasture, his hands twisting together in the tail of his T-shirt. I needed to alleviate his nerves at once.

“You beat me. What kind of movies do you like? Do you want a drink?” My bedroom had been my parents’ room and was divided into a sitting room, a bedroom, a dressing room, and the large ensuite bathroom. The walls were faux pine logs with a warm honey stain, and the furnishings that weren’t pine were navy.

I’d had the suite remodeled after my folks were killed because my mother had gone with shades of green and brown when she was alive. It made me feel like I was sleeping in the Christmas tree lot.

I went into the closet and pulled on lounge pants and a tank top before I returned to the bedroom, stopping by the wet bar to study Hermie. “Drink?”

“Uh, d-do you have stuff up h-here to drink? I don’t really drink.”

I reached into the fridge under the bar and pulled out a bottle of Irish cream that I enjoyed before bed on chilly winter nights. It wasn’t too strong, which should suit Hermie. I pulled some ice cubes from the ice maker and put them in a crystal tumbler before pouring him a drink.

“Try this. It’s smooth.” I walked over to give him the glass before taking his hand and pulling him across the room to the large four-poster bed. “Hop in.”

I pulled the thick navy and beige comforter back for him to get in and got myself two-fingers of Irish whiskey, joining him. “What kind of movies do you like to watch?”

I leaned against the headboard with pillows behind me while Hermie sat with his legs twisted in a pretzel near the edge. He looked as if he was ready to bolt, which had me hiding a grin.

“I g-guess I—can you just t-tell me what y-you want to t-talk about?” He was fidgeting like a horse getting its first set of shoes.

“Scoot this way before you fall off the bed.” I reached out and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him across the sheet and closer to me.

His beautiful brown eyes were as big as silver dollars. “I don’t like to shout when I’m having an important conversation.” Hermie took a sip of his drink and nodded, which was about as much as I figured I’d get out of him.

“Would you like a tour of the tree lot tomorrow? We’ll be busy, so I’ll need to be down there to help, but you can come down and look around.” I put my hand on his knee without a second thought, and he didn’t flinch, which was a good sign.

“I can help, too.” He took another sip of his drink. “This is really good.”

“If you want to help, you’re more than welcome. Can I ask you a personal question?”

Hermie put his hand over mine and nodded, sending a jolt up my arm. It confirmed for me that there was something special between us. I just had to help him see it.

“I’ve been a jerk about making some assumptions I shouldn’t have, and I apologize if I’ve misread things. Are you gay?”

Hermie giggled. “I think everyone can tell I’m gay, so you’re not a jerk. You’re a very kind man who I think might be gay or bi. Am I wrong?”

The Irish cream seemed to have done the trick at helping him relax, which was my goal. I twined our fingers together on his knee. “You’re not. I’m gay. We probably should have settled that before I kissed you. There’s something about you, Hermie, that keeps you on my mind all the time. Have you had boyfriends?”

Another giggle. “Not ever. I mean, I’m not a complete virgin, but I’ve only had hookups. I’m not a slut or anything, but I’ve only done a little. How about you? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

My turn to chuckle. “I dated and even slept with women when I was in the NBA because my agent told me I had to. I snuck around in the offseason with guys, but nothing serious. I didn’t come out until I retired. I wish I hadn’t waited so long, but things were different twenty years ago. I had a boy in Houston before I moved back to Kingsley. He was part of why I moved back, as a matter of fact.”

Grant Rogan. The boy who broke my heart.

“A boy? Like a son? Do you have a son?” Hermie’s face paled, so I sat up and faced him, untwisting his legs and draping them over mine with his feet by my hips.

“No. No children. What I mean is, I’m a Daddy, and Grant, who was thirty back then, was a little.” I watched his body language to see the effect my words had on Hermie.

“I-I’m sorry. I d-don’t understand.”

I nodded. “A Daddy is a guy who wants to take care of a boy who is usually—but not always—a younger guy. The Daddy offers support, both emotional and physical. He gives encouragement, advice, boundaries for behavior, whatever his boy needs. There are more nuances to the dynamic, but it’s strictly consensual on both parts.

“For instance, some boys need more of a hands-on approach. They’re called littles. They enjoy mentally and emotionally regressing to a younger age when maybe their life was easier, or maybe they missed enjoying themselves when they were little for one reason or another. There are littles who like to dress in special clothes and have toys and stuffed animals they like for comfort. Others enjoy wearing diapers and drinking from bottles or sippy cups. Their Daddy might change their diaper or give them baths. It’s a kink in the BDSM world that many people enjoy.”

Hermie swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his elegant neck. “Do you enjoy it? Is that what you did with your boy?”

He was interested, which was a relief. I hoped the answer didn’t send him back into a panic. I pointed to his now-empty glass. “You want some more? I think I might have another.”

He nodded and held out his glass, so I took it with me and made us both another drink. A little liquid courage on both of our parts might help the nerves and allow us to speak freely.

I returned to the bed and handed Hermie his glass before I placed mine on the nightstand and climbed in. This time, he slid closer to me and faced me as I rested against the headboard.

“No. That’s not my particular kink, though I’ve done scenes with littles and enjoyed them. I’m a Daddy, but I don’t want to change diapers or play with cars on the floor. I want to talk about hopes and dreams my boy has and see if we can make them come true together. I want to help you enjoy your life and if there’s something you want to try, I’ll be your biggest cheerleader, though my legs are kinda hairy for a skirt.” I winked at him, bringing another adorable giggle.

“What happened with your last boy?” We both took a sip of our drinks as I formulated the answer for him. I wasn’t going to lie, though it didn’t exactly put me in the best light.

I extended my right hand, and Hermie took it. “I was too overbearing. He said I hovered and gave him no freedom to do things he wanted. I gave him cash, a car, a credit card, and the keys to my condo in Houston. At the time, I thought that was what a boy wanted from me, more of a sugar daddy than someone to support him and help him maneuver the challenges life can hold for a young man. I let him take advantage of me because I thought that was my role in our relationship. I know better now.”

“Did you love him?” Hermie stared at me, his bottom lip going between his teeth as thought he was worried.

“At the time I believed I was falling in love with him. Turns out he had a serious boyfriend and the two of them were determined to ruin me. I took his car away and had the locks changed at the condo because I came home from a road trip to find out from my doorman that his boyfriend had been staying there while I was gone on road trips. I cut him off at once, and the two of them tried to blackmail me, threatening they’d share intimate things that would get me kicked off the team. They’d set up camera equipment in my bedroom and recorded everything Grant and I did together when I was home, and they threatened to release the videos to the press.

“I got an email from the boyfriend before my team took the court in Charlotte, and I stupidly looked at it. I was upset and playing carelessly, and I got hurt in the last five minutes of the game. That was the last time I played. After I got out of the hospital from my ACL surgery, Grant and his boyfriend contacted me about money and I told them to go fuck themselves. I didn’t give a shit anymore. My parents were killed a month later.”

A million emotions seemed to cross his face in an instant. “Oh, Bare. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I studied his gaze, seeing his concern. It truly touched my heart.

“It’s my own fault. I’ve learned a lot from the relationship, but one thing that hasn’t changed is that I get off on being a Daddy. I just need to find the right boy.”

I stared at his beautiful face as he processed what I’d said—and the moment it all clicked. “Y-You think I could be a boy?”

I reached under my nightstand and pulled out my laptop. I handed it to Hermie in exchange for his now-empty glass, placing it on the nightstand next to mine. “Open it up. The password is 6283.”

I lifted Hermie, placing him between my legs as he pecked in the password. Once the laptop booted up, I wrapped my arms around his slender body and used the touch pad to find the folder on my drive with the information I’d accumulated. I clicked on it and leaned into Hermie’s ear. “Read. See if this is anything that interests you. I want to be your Daddy, Hermie, but I need you to want it too.”

I turned on the television and found a heist movie I’d seen a million times. It was something to kill the time while Hermie read. I held him in my arms and let him click through the articles. Hopefully, he’d find something that interested him. I was on pins and needles until I knew the outcome.