Chapter Nine

The Heath farm lay about ten minutes away on the east side of Pickleville. His mom let Jaron borrow the car. He hadn't driven in years, having driven Andrew home from the bar when he'd gotten too drunk to drive himself once, but that had been years ago. Cars were needed around Pickleville as public transportation wasn't a thing. Not like in the city where no one needed to drive because things were either close enough to walk to or close to the trains and buses.

Jaron drove with the windows rolled down, taking in the fresh air, passing unharvested fields, orchards, and forests in equal measure. The air was ripe with peaches and still-green apples, along with decaying leaves leftover from last fall. Nature at its finest, something the city didn't have much of, and Jaron only realized how much he'd missed that one thing. Jaron had forgotten about Pickleville's wide-open spaces and acres of forest. Or maybe he'd never really seen the spaces, between his rebellious immaturity and the lack of acceptance.

The pavement gave way to dirt, and the forest turned into a swampy marsh. Gravel crunched under tires, and he slowed down, not wanting to slide around. One pebble wasn't a problem, but a bunch together made the gravel road slicker than pavement. The air smelled slightly of fish, and frogs chirped out their protest at the intrusion.

The green of summer hadn't given over to fall's colors, and with the warm air, Jaron had the illusion summer would never end.

When did the tall buildings and all those people in the big city begin to make him feel closed up? Not closed in. Not claustrophobic. But closed up like a locked closet. When he'd first moved, he felt as if his whole life waited there amongst the steel and concrete, ready to begin something extraordinary, make connections with people.

Tracy had been bigger than life and so extroverted she'd taken the meaning of that word to the next level. The only thing he and Andrew had had in common was the fact that they were gay. They were different in every other way. Jaron loved that Andrew mixed up his English and Spanish a lot, and that he had the tough, observant cop thing down so thoroughly that it was instinct.

It took him less time to realize that no one would hand him whatever he needed to make his life easier the way his mother had, not even Tracy and Andrew. He had thought he'd get off the bus and everyone would stand at the city gates with smiles and open arms, taking him into the fold. Instead, everyone moved around him as if he were a ghost.

Pickleville's small, gossipy atmosphere held problems of its own—nothing like the city. Could he live with the problems in Pickleville? The bigger question was how the problems in Pickleville would affect Bobby. He wanted Bobby to have the best life possible but wasn't sure if he'd made the right decision moving or not. He had a feeling he'd find out sooner rather than later.

Travis Heath hadn't exactly been his friend in high school, so he hadn't ever been to the farm before. Everything he knew about it, he'd learned through gossip in the high school hallways. He'd heard bits and pieces of factual information in amongst everything else, but he managed to get enough of the puzzle to know the Heaths owned most of the land in Pickleville, making them the biggest farmers around. He knew they raised cattle and horses. Since he passed enough of the Heath's fields on the way there, he also knew they grew some fruits and vegetables as well.

The driveway curved around a house so big, Jaron understood why Beverly needed someone to clean. No way could one person take care of something so big, and Beverly was as old as Gloria, which didn't make her ancient, but she was probably slowing down a bit. The white house had two stories and an extra wing on each side, making it look like a giant u.

He wondered if Travis still lived at home. The house was so big, he'd never see Beverly if he didn't want to. Still, everyone their age wanted out from under their parents' roof and rules, not that Travis had a whole lot of those in his life, if the rumors meant anything.

Several outbuildings were scattered around the property, all painted red with white trim. A circular corral sat in front of a barn on the right. There was a horse inside, standing near the fence with its eyes half-closed.

He parked the car next to a gray truck, rolling up the window before shutting off the engine. Opening and closing the car door didn't seem to faze the sleeping horse even a little bit. He pocketed his keys as he walked to the front door of the house. He ran his hands down his jean-covered thighs and took a deep breath before he knocked.

Beverly opened the door with a smile. He had seen her around town a few times before he'd moved, so he had an image in his mind. Despite a different hairstyle, how he remembered her wasn't very far off the mark.

He held out his hand and introduced himself. "Hello, I'm Jaron McAllister."

"I know, dear." Beverly took his hand between both of hers, patting him. Her hands were soft as if she just moisturized them with some expensive lotion. Travis had the same colored eyes, except his held mischief, where hers didn't. "Come in. And we'll get you started."

She walked him through the downstairs, explaining what she needed. The antiques scattered around, coupled with his clumsiness, scared him more than he would ever admit. She told him about how long he should expect to take in each room once he found his momentum. "The upstairs is where I would like you to start first. That's probably the worst of the mess."

He expected an interview with lots of questions, but he found himself dusting the last room on the hallway's left side.

He stood outside a closed door, knocking to make sure no one occupied the room. He knocked on every room that had a closed door. "Hello. Housekeeper coming in. Brace yourself."

All the rooms in the east wing had been empty so far. He didn't expect anything different from that one, which was why he didn't wait for anyone to answer but went right in, humming a song he had heard on a commercial last night. Damn thing had gotten stuck in his head to the point he didn't know how to get rid of it.

The song evaporated like smoke when he saw a naked ass. He sucked in a breath right before he yelled, "Oh my God." His voice sounded loud even to his own ears, especially in the dark room where someone had pulled the thick curtains closed to shut out the light.

Travis lay on his stomach sprawled across the bed, which sat in the middle of the room against the far wall. He looked like a framed photo, all perfect and peaceful. Pornographic in the most artistic way possible.

Jaron adjusted the hard-on in his pants and took a deep breath before his brain started functioning again.

So should he leave or continue cleaning?

Jaron decided he probably should leave.

He walked backward to get as long a look as possible at that perfect body. And promptly tripped over a pile of clothing he didn't remember stepping around to get inside the room. The horse in the round fence thingy probably heard the crunch his plastic cleaning caddy made and the boom of him falling backward on his ass. His cleaning supplies went everywhere, bottles lay beside him instead of underneath as the caddy went sideways right before he landed. How the caddy ended up underneath him, he didn't know, but a sharp piece of plastic stuck into his ass.

Travis came off the bed with a jolt and a curse. "What the fuck?"

He looked around the room, trying to find the answer to the crudely worded question. When his gaze landed on Jaron, he found it. He ran a hand down his face. "Shit, you scared me."

"Sorry."

Travis smiled and rose from the bed in all his naked glory, squatting down beside him. He took a cleaning bottle from Jaron's hand. Jaron hadn't even known he'd held it. "Are you okay?"

Heat crept into his cheeks, but he smiled, trying to brush off the embarrassment. "My pride is bruised but other than that I'm fine."

Travis chuckled. "Mom gave you the job already, I see."

"Can we have this conversation when you're clothed, please?" Jaron looked directly at the man's gorgeous cock when he said it. The thing held Jaron's attention for sure and would hold it until Travis got dressed. Since he didn't feel like getting his ass kicked for taking a peek, Travis should cover himself, even though, doing so was a shame.

Travis' eyes sparkled with mischief. "What would be the fun in that?"

Jaron's eyes widened. Was that flirting?

Travis pulled him to his feet and stepped away.

He stood there, watching as Travis rummaged around in his dresser, searching for clothing. At least Jaron hoped he intended to cover himself. Okay, Jaron rode the fence on whether or not he wanted Travis to get dressed because who wouldn't want to see that for the rest of the day. Or longer. Whatever.

"Shit."

"What?"

"No clean underwear."

Jaron groaned, closing his eyes so he could get his dick to calm the fuck down. That was not an invitation.

"I can start some laundry for you. It will take a while, though."

"You don't have to do that. You are not my servant or anything."

Can't I be, please? Oh please. "It's okay. I don't mind."

He picked up his cleaning supplies and stacked them against the wall, so they were out of his way before leaving the room to get a trash can to toss out the broken caddy. By the time he came back, Travis wasn't anywhere in sight.

He wasn't sure if he should've been sad about that or not.

Jaron had started on lunch when Beverly came into the kitchen. "Jaron, can I talk to you, please?"

"Sure." He washed his hands and followed her to the library. Or he guessed that's what they called it on account of all the books in the room.

"Travis told me you went into his room earlier." She sat down on a plush chair and indicated Jaron should sit as well.

Jaron chose the couch. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't know whether to go in or not. I knocked, I swear."

"Oh, it's me that wants to apologize. I completely forgot that Travis slept here. He got in very late last night."

Jaron just bet he did. "It's okay. I promise to knock louder next time."

Beverly laughed. "I'm sure you got an eyeful."

Oh God, how embarrassing. He looked down, enthralled with the neat little swirls in the carpet. "I broke your cleaning thing when I fell."

"That's fine, dear. As long as you're okay." When he met her gaze again, she smiled.

Jaron nodded and then wrung his hands when she studied him, not speaking for the longest time. He didn't know whether to get up and continue lunch preparations or sit there until she excused him. Sitting there regressed him to his childhood days, making him feel as if he were under scrutiny.

He cleared his throat, and that seemed to do the trick as she spoke again. "You've done a great job so far. How do you feel about a permanent position?"

Jaron smiled. "I'll take it, ma'am." His smile fell, and he thought of his transportation issues. "I have transportation issues at the moment, though."

"You can either move in here. We have plenty of room, and my last housekeeper lived here. Or I can send a farmhand to pick you up."

"I don't know if I feel comfortable moving my son again so soon."

"Gloria told me about Bobby. He could ride the bus here from school instead of at Gloria's house if you'd like. I'm sure he'd like learning to ride horses and exploring the farm. We have plenty of people around to keep an eye on him."

"Bobby's not in school yet."

Beverly drew her eyebrows together. "I believe the school year has already started. You should enroll him very soon."

Jaron sighed. His shoulders slumped. "I know." Whatever nervousness he'd felt around her disappeared, and he found himself unloading on her a bit. "I do know, I swear. But the kids in this town weren't very nice to me while I was growing up and I don't know if that's changed. It scares me to put my son in a similar situation."

"Travis wasn't cruel to you? His father would have had a fit if he knew he picked on someone for being gay. For any reason for that matter."

"No. Travis wasn't. His friends, Jackson and Brad were the worst. The other kids just shunned me and gossiped."

"I don't know how things are anymore, but I do know there are some in town who are gay. My friend, Karen and her wife. They haven't had any trouble at all."

Jaron sighed with relief. "That's great."

She smiled. "So what else is bothering you about your son and starting school?"

"Bobby will throw a fit the second he sees the classroom and…I'm a coward."

Beverly chuckled. "And maybe you're a father who doesn't want to let go of his baby just yet."

Jaron smiled. "And that, yeah."

Jaron felt a million pounds lighter after talking to Beverly. A lot of it had to do with him having a steady flow of income. He might live with his mother, but he didn't mooch off her. He had given her money every week he'd been there since moving in, and he intended to keep doing that until he moved out, not that he had a plan to do that anytime soon, despite Beverly's offer.

A little part of his relief had been talking to Beverly about Bobby. However brief the conversation, he'd needed to get his worries off his chest.

He piled two ham and cheese sandwiches with vegetables and added a side plate of fruit to each one, setting them on the kitchen table.

Travis came through the kitchen door just as Jaron set a glass of lemonade beside each serving.

"Wash up. Eat." The comment came out sharp and biting, and even he didn't know why.

"Yes, sir." Travis smiled before disappearing. He wasn't gone but a couple of minutes. He nodded to one of the place settings. "One of those for me?"

"Of course." The question seemed odd, but Jaron didn't want to start a conversation with Travis. He'd rather let him eat and do something else in another part of the house.

Travis sat down. "This looks good. Thank you." Jaron didn't reply, not even to be polite. Instead, he headed to the door that led into the hallway. "Aren't you eating?"

"No."

Beverly chose that moment to come into the room but from the opposite door. Travis took advantage of that and told on him. "Mom, Jaron isn't eating." Jaron stopped with his hand on the door and glared at Travis, who had a smug expression. The bastard.

Beverly gave him the mom stare. "Why not?"

"Just not hungry, Ma'am."

"Oh now, sit down and eat. You worked hard all morning."

Jaron sighed and went over to the kitchen island again, making himself a sandwich.

"How are Maggie and the baby, dear?" Beverly asked Travis. The whole time Travis watched Jaron.

"Doing good this morning, Mom." Travis took another bite of his sandwich and winked at Jaron when he caught him looking.

Jaron blushed.

"It's a good thing Elmer was in the barn when she started having trouble."

Travis nodded his head. "Greg's the one that saved the colt's life. The kid is smart, Mom. We should help him pay for college if he wants to go."

Beverly nodded. "Of course. Greg is family now, after all."

Jaron didn't know who they spoke of, but he thought it was super-generous that they would pay for someone's college tuition. Jaron finished making a sandwich and carried it to the table before going back for a glass of lemonade.

"Can I ask a question?" Jaron sat down and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Shoot." Travis watched him.

"Maggie and the baby?" Their conversation made them sound nonhuman. Knowing the kinds of animals on the farm, Jaron would guess a cow or horse. Bobby would love seeing a baby animal, regardless of what kind.

"Horses." Travis smiled.

"Mind if I bring Bobby by to see them sometime?"

"Anytime." Travis' expression softened.

No way was Travis looking at Jaron's mouth as if he wanted to see his lips wrapped around something other than a sandwich.

"What?" Jaron wasn't interpreting that look correctly. Was he?

"What?"

"Knock it off."

"What am I doing?" Travis' eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You're watching me eat. It's creepy. So quit."

As they bantered back and forth, Beverly looked as if she were watching tennis.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I have faith in your ability to be noncreepy."

"Non-creepy? Is that even a word?"

"It is now."

"You are something else. You know that? You like making friends. I can tell. For some reason, you don't want to with me. Why is that?"

Shit. He hadn't realized he'd been that transparent. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

"Yes, I'm trying to make you angry." Travis outright chuckled.

"Why?"

"Because you are so damn cute right now."

Jaron's head snapped back. If Travis had slapped him, it would have had less of an impact. He stood, excusing himself as he practically ran out of the room. He headed down the hall that led to the stairs and to the laundry room. He pulled clothes out of the dryer and set them on the folding table.

Travis was a walking, talking heartbreak and a temptation Jaron couldn't afford.

He told himself to breathe and forget about Travis. The only problem was, Jaron held the man's underwear in his hands.