10. Kess

10

KESS

“I love what you’ve done with the landscaping,” Emery said, walking up the front path with a greasy bag of breakfast tacos in hand.

“That was mostly Stevie and Rowdy,” I admitted, letting him in. We walked to the kitchen and sat across from each other at the big island. My cabinets were a natural pale oak with black stone countertops and black fixtures, but the island was made of black stained driftwood and a white marble top.

I couldn’t quite picture it when the interior decorator had suggested it, but it had proven to be one of my favorite decisions with this house. The effect was warm and welcoming, and it immediately made the place feel like home.

“Stevie said that Rowdy got mad, then left early,” Em said, distributing the tightly wrapped bundles of breakfast heaven.

I swear, this whole family is a bunch of gossips and meddlers.

“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my head. “Two unrelated incidents, actually.”

“Two incidents? What the hell did you do to the poor guy?” Emery joked.

“I’m surprised Stevie didn’t rat me out, considering,” I grumped, unwrapping my chorizo and egg taco. “God, this smells delicious.”

“It is delicious, but you’re not gonna blame whatever you did to Rowdy on a thirteen-year-old. And stop changing the subject,” Emery said as he went after his own foil-wrapped goodness.

“Only the first one was on me.”

“Nobody likes a whiner, Kessie. Spill.”

“ Fine . It started when he said something about how you and Woody make raising a kid look easy.”

Emery snorted. “There is nothing easy about being a parent. And I have the world’s best kid.”

“We both acknowledged that, and I should’ve left it at that.”

“I’m taking it you didn’t.”

I blew out raspberries as I reached for the salsas and napkins and divided them between us. “Nope. I went and said that I didn’t think of him as someone who would want either the commitment or the responsibility of a child.”

“Because he doesn’t,” Emery said, dumping the fiery red salsa on his eggs. “What was wrong with you saying that?”

“Glad I’m not the only asshole on this property.”

He chuckled, then took his first big bite and moaned as salsa slid down his chin. He grabbed a crumpled napkin, looking thoughtful as he mopped off the tomatoey goodness. “What are you saying? That Rowdy wants to be a dad?”

“I guess?” I took a bite as I mulled over my answer. “Or at least I hurt his feelings by dismissing the possibility.”

“Really?” Emery took another bite, his brows stitched in confusion. “Dare I even ask what the second thing was?” he asked through a mouthful of egg.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but he got a text and took out of here like a bat out of hell. Said he had to go back into town to take care of a friend.”

“Town? Which town?”

“Austin, I’m guessing.”

Emery finished his first taco and grabbed another one, dousing this one in green salsa. “We should be happy that he said ‘help take care of a friend’ instead of ‘emergency trip to Pound Town’ in front of my daughter.”

“You know he would never do that.”

Emery brought the second taco to his lips, then caught my eye. Something he saw made him set it down.

“What does that look mean?” He gestured a circle around my face. “You’re wrinkling your nose like...What?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, lost. I ate half of my taco, giving myself a few extra moments. “You know how Rowdy and I have this sort of fun little back-and-forth where he calls me a city boy, and I call him a slut, and it’s fun?”

“Yes. We’ve had many, many dinners together.”

I ignored the light snark and watched the morning sun stream through the broad windows, drowning the already bright kitchen in leaf-dappled God rays.

“Kess?” Emery nudged, wiping chorizo oil off his cheek.

“I think something’s shifted with that,” I finally said. “He doesn’t seem to like it anymore.”

“Really? I thought he got a lot of mileage out of trading jabs. I mean, you’re definitely not the only one who banters that way with him.”

“Exactly.” I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated that I couldn’t work it out. “Maybe it’s just me, but everything I say to him seems to fall flat now. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Wait.” Emery held my gaze as he crumpled the foil. “Well, shit.”

“What?” I asked, self-conscious.

“You like him like him. Don’t you?”

I felt my cheeks heat. “Shut up.”

“Whatever. You flirt with him all the time.”

“Yeah? So? That’s our thing: banter-slash-innocent flirting.”

His look was a little too knowing. “Innocent, my ass. I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him yet.”

Great. This was basically the grown-up version of the conversation I’d had with Stevie. I scowled, and Emery’s eyes widened.

“What the hell was that ?” he asked.

I cursed under my breath, feeling like a kid caught skipping school. I grabbed my second taco and sprinkled the onion-and-cilantro mixture on top. Em rested his weight on his forearms as he slid forward, eliminating the distance between us.

“What’s going on, Kessie?”

“I don’t know.” Em raised his brows, not believing me for a second. “I just...You’re gonna think I am an idiot.”

“No, I won’t,” Emery promised, ever the faithful friend. “I know I’ve been joking around, but it’s Rowdy. If I’m wrong about him, I should know. I love the guy. He’s like a brother to Woody and he’s made such a difference in my life.”

“Mine, too,” I said, then really thought about the number of ways in which he had made a difference.

The obvious one was how he and Woody had saved Stevie’s life after she’d had a severe reaction to bee stings. Woody had gotten Stevie out of there, but it was Rowdy who had called in the help and administered the epinephrine that saved Stevie’s life.

There were other, not-so-obvious ways in which he’d made a difference, too.

Emery and I didn’t talk about this much, but I’d forced him to take a leave of absence because he was beyond burnt out and drowning in work. One of the smartest things Emery ever did after moving out here was hire Rowdy to manage the property. Rowdy refused to let him overwork himself to death, giving him space to actually recover.

Selfishly, though, our saucy text exchanges were sometimes the only thing that’d prevented me from feeling overwhelmed when I’d taken over Emery’s duties. I’d get out of a meeting, feeling like I’d been beat up by our investors, and there’d be a text from Rowdy—something awful and inappropriate to reconfigure my day.

Rowdy: Willie Nelson was wrong.

Me: Oh? How so?

Rowdy: It’s fine to let your babies grow up to be cowboys, just please for the love of God teach them to wash their asses.

Me:

Me: Skid marks are NOT sexy.

Rowdy: Not even a little.

“I wonder what’s changed?” Emery asked, going for the mugs.

I went to the coffeemaker to start a pot. “You know how you’re surprised that he and I haven’t slept together?”

“Yes...”

“I kissed him at the housewarming.”

Emery’s eyes widened comically. “ Really ?”

“Yeah. And when I made a play for more, he froze up.”

Emery drew his chin back. “He what ? How is that possible?” Emery grabbed the cream and sugar and set them next to the mugs. “He has an even bigger crush on you than you have on him.”

I dumped the coffee grounds into the basket, making a mess of things. Emery handed me a paper towel, concern in his eyes. Thankfully, I managed to fill the reservoir without incident.

“Do you really think that he has a...a thing ? For me?” I asked, then focused on wiping the counter, not sure if I wanted his answer.

Emery huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, he totally passed a note to me about it in homeroom.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I groused, punching the button to start the brew cycle. “And by the way, you basically said the same thing as your daughter.”

Emery’s answering chuckle was warm. “She sees everything. Even the things you’d rather she didn’t.”

“Tell me why I want children again?”

“Because you’ve got a lot of love to give.” Emery drummed his fingertips on the counter. “Look. It’s not like he and Woody are big sharers.”

I snorted.

“But...” Emery paused, seeming to consider his words. “Even though Rowdy hasn’t said much about it to Woody, Woody thinks he likes you more than he wants to let on.”

“So what you’re saying is that our usual banter—me acting like he’s the one-night-stand king, for instance—is probably hurting his feelings? Because he’s crushing on me?”

“That’d be my guess.” Emery tapped the counter. “Even though you’re just acting like y’all have always acted, maybe things have changed for him, and now the banter reads like rejection.”

I stared outside, biting my lower lip. “If he thinks I’m not taking him seriously, he’ll never tell me how he feels.”

“Exactly.”

A few more pieces fell in place, but something about our most recent conversations still felt...off.

“There’s more to it, though,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. I grabbed a mug, snuck in a quick pour of coffee before letting it continue to brew, then dumped too much cream and sugar into it. “I swear, at the housewarming he almost acted...”

I let my words trail off, absolutely certain I had misread it.

Emery stood shoulder to shoulder with me. “He almost acted like what?”

I slid a glance in his direction, and he lightly elbowed me.

“Like he was afraid,” I finally answered. “I know he’s got a shitty background, but why would he be afraid of me?”

Emery rolled his eyes. “He’s never been afraid of you, Kess. From the first time you met each other, y’all’ve had this energy between you. More than just the back-and-forth, it’s like...” He imitated thunder and lightning sounds.

I opened my mouth to bag on him about being a dork but then I experienced my own personal bolt of lightning: I met Rowdy two years ago.

Two years.

There was no way I’d let an obvious mutual attraction go so long without making a move, but when it came to Rowdy, I’d always pushed the thought away and kept myself busy with work. Until I’d downed enough of Mama Bash’s sangria to disable my prefrontal cortex, I’d known I could never handle just one night with Rowdy. One night would never be enough.

I just knew—assumed, really—that Rowdy didn’t want the life I was trying to build for myself, based on his many, many sexual encounters. Hell, I moved out to the country and hired a matchmaker so that I could become a husband and a father.

Because I was serious. And Rowdy was not.

I’d been fully convinced of that fact until I hit on him the way I thought I should, and he rejected my advance. Until I hurt his feelings by saying he didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d ever want kids. Now there wasn’t even my business or the distance to provide cover.

And I still didn’t know a damned thing.

Worse, all these reasons I’d built up to, what, protect myself from falling for an unserious man? They’d all crumbled to a fine powder within a couple of weeks of living out here.

“What just happened?” Emery asked, gesturing a circle at my face. “You glitched for a second.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I’ve been operating on all these theories about Rowdy, and none of them are real. So now I’m racking my brain because God knows what else I’m missing about that man.”

Emery snuck his own pour of coffee, then took the cream and sugar from me, frowning as he added them to his mug. “True. I’d have never taken him for the rejecting type.”

“Before the housewarming, I’d have agreed with you. But I can tell you right now, if you said that—the thing about Rowdy not being the rejecting type—to his face?”

“What?”

I bit my lip. “He wouldn’t like it. He might try to cover it, but...”

“He’s got a pretty shit poker face,” Emery said, nodding along as he sipped the rich brew. “You do, too, by the way.”

I shot him the finger, then grabbed my mug. “Let’s head out to the pool.”

He followed me through the house to the hallway, and I slid open the wall of glass that led to the pool and deck.

We stepped out onto the deck, sipping our coffees as we looked out over the beautifully tiled pool. The contractor had to build out the pool before the house because it required jackhammering into several feet of limestone. I wasn’t sure if I’d choose to do it all over again, but I was happy for the peacefulness.

Emery finally broke the silence as we made our way over to the table. “Tell me, do you ever see anyone coming or going from the cabin?”

I slumped into one of the chairs, grateful for its solid build. “Never once.”

“Damn. Really?” he asked, sitting across from me.

“You seem disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed, just confused. Rowdy obviously didn’t hook up with strangers while he was living in my house, but when we moved him into the cabin, Woody hoped he’d start hosting more, just out of concern for his safety.”

“Did I tell you I ran into him in Austin last week?”

“When? After we signed on the business?”

“Yeah. I had decided to stay at a hotel downtown because of the scorpion situation.”

We looked at each other and shuddered. We were the very definition of city boys, completely terrified of any creature that didn’t sit on command, purr, or take a lead.

“You saw him at the hotel?”

“No. There was a bar about two blocks down, and there was a girl playing Spanish music. Rowdy was sitting at the bar with his friend Skylar and they were watching her play.”

“Skylar?” Emery pulled a face. “Who the hell is Skylar?”

“Great question. Apparently, Skylar is one of his very best friends,” I said, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“How is that possible? Do you think Woody knows about him?”

I bitterly flicked a leaf off the tabletop. “Yet another good fucking question.”

Emery drummed the wood with his fingertips as he looked at me sideways. “Are they...Do you think they’re seeing each other?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Get this, Skylar got up in the middle of our conversation because his sugar daddy had arrived. He even told Rowdy that his guy wouldn’t last long if we wanted to wait for him, but Rowdy decided to leave.” I took a sip of coffee as I tried to let the gentle lapping of the water calm me. “I mean, they could be poly or open, I suppose.”

“Was that the sense you got?”

I shook my head.

“He drove back home that night, didn’t he? Was he drinking?” Emery asked.

“No, he wasn’t. Nothing but soda.”

“And he didn’t hit on anyone while y’all were at the bar?”

“No. We started talking about guitar playing, and I was shocked to learn that he knows how to play guitar.”

“I’ve seen his guitar around, but I’ve never heard him play it.”

“And isn’t that strange? I asked, facing him. “I’m telling you something doesn’t add up. He spent a good five minutes showing me percussive guitar techniques on the bar top, but then said that he didn’t like playing for other people. Which made me think he’s hiding something.”

“And you really don’t think it’s this guy Skylar that he’s hiding?”

“He was pretty insistent that Skylar was just his friend. In fact, Skylar is coming in tomorrow to help him redecorate his cabin.”

“Where is Skylar staying?” Emery asked, his sharp mind turning.

My lip curled. “He’s probably staying at the cabin, but when I teased Rowdy about the whole one bed situation, he got weird again.”

“Really?” Emery scratched the back of his head, clearly as confounded as I was. “He didn’t just throw it back at you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Emery sat back, cupping the mug in his hands. “We’ll hafta check out this Skylar guy when he comes by.”

“Yes, we will.”

“Oh,” Emery said, smacking my shoulder. “I came here to ask about how your dates went and totally got sidelined by the whole Rowdy situation. How has that been going?”

“Put it to you this way. I recoiled in horror after kissing the lovely man from Manchester, and my second date and I spent more time talking about our respective unrequited situations than getting to know each other.” I rubbed my eyes. “We even wore the same Brooks Brothers jacket. It was...” I pulled a face.

“Not as good as it is with Rowdy?” Emery filled in.

“Not even in the same ballpark. Planet. Solar system.”

“And the third date?”

“Postponed,” I said, a sour taste in my mouth. “Probably indefinitely.”

“So...a bust. That’s okay.” Emery looked me over. “Maybe it was a sign.”

I sighed, annoyed by the niggling unanswered questions. “This conversation has been a mess . We’ve gone all over the place and still haven’t solved a damn thing.”

“That’s not true,” Emery protested. “At a minimum, I think we’ve figured out that Rowdy might be approaching the end of his slutty phase.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” I asked, then took another sip.

Wouldn’t that be something, indeed.