Page 19 of His Country

Like music playing over the speakers of a store, Aiden let it buzz in the background as he took his time to groom Eagle. The gelding liked it, ears relaxed and bottom loop drooping as Aiden flicked the brush over his glossy coat. It was already thick for winter and Aiden liked to run his fingers through it, tracing shapes in the dust that stuck to the static.

“Carol says the baker is doing these little mini deserts because I guess Billy doesn’t really like icing.”

“It’s Everett,” Aiden replied without thinking. Everett liked pie while Billy loved anything artificially sweetened.

“Oh, did they tell you that too?”

Aiden nodded gruffly, continuing to brush Eagle’s coat with quick flicks of the soft brush. Isaac didn’t seem to notice his little slip, chattering as he cleaned out the hay room. That was the thing about Isaac, he never seemed to really need an audience.

Aiden had been doing a pretty good job not thinking about Billy and Everett’s wedding. They hadn’t come back since theirfirst visit, using Carol as their intermediary. From what Isaac said, they were going to get married in Summer. The wedding planning had largely been on the periphery—Isaac running around doing…whatever was needed for a celebrity wedding. Aiden had cut wood for an archway. That was the closest he’d gotten to it. Which suited him just fine.

He had enough on his plate thinking about Ethan. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which was worse—the thought of speaking at the town hall meeting or Ethan’s invasive splinter removing techniques. Aiden had told him he wasn’t going to speak, and he meant it, but Ethan didn’t seem to take his ‘fuck you’ at face value. The man ran himself ragged—working long hours at the clinic, running on farm calls, and then showing up at Frank’s so they could strategize for this big land meeting.

The lights in Frank’s office remained on for hours, the glow only competing with the moon against a dark sky.

Aiden could understand Frank’s motivations, but Ethan? Sure, his grandparents had lived around here but a few visits throughout his life didn’t warrant this kind of dedication to a cause that wasn’t his own. As far as Aiden knew, Ethan had no dog in this race. So why did he care so much? Was he just selfless? The kind of man the church ladies would swoon at behind their paper fans and plot to marry to whatever woman in their family who happened to be single and of a similar age.

Normally he found it easy to get distracted by farm chores, letting his mind lull into a sort of hazy bliss as his body did most of the work. But lately he couldn’t stop thinking aboutnobleEthan and his tongue. His tongue!

It was hardly Aiden’s first kiss. There were a few alcohol soaked kisses, difficult to remember under the glow of a neon bar sign. A few women, back when he was trying to convince himself he was a late bloomer. That he wasn’t truly lost. Thosedidn’t lead anywhere once the women realized it wasn’t chivalry that had him keeping his hands to himself.

When he’d found his courage at the bottom of a bottle, he tried kissing men. He didn’t remember their faces, but he did remember the scrape of stubble on his chin, the gruff grunts as rough hands dragged down his back, unmanicured nails catching on his shirt. Even though he’d liked it, the night always ended the same way—with Aiden going home alone to curl under a threadbare quilt and pray the alcohol knocked him out before his thoughts did.

The difference was that Aiden had been sober for Ethan’s…tonguing. He knew Ethan’s name, could remember his face. That warm press of his lips was branded into his mind, smoking and hissing long after the interaction. It popped up at the worst times, but especially when he was alone at night. Lying on his small bunk, staring up at the wood paneled ceiling and trying desperately to think of anything but the growing warmth pooling in his belly.

When he inevitably gave into temptation, let his mind wander into a place where his guilt and prejudices couldn’t reach, there would be moments of bliss. Nothing but the rush of his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants, the warmth of a familiar palm. The images he conjured would make his conscious mind panic. Guilt and shame would creep up, dig their teeth in and pin him to his bed, covered in his spend like a sticky smoking gun. Evidence of his perversions.

Hisonlysaving grace had been that the men he dreamt of were faceless. They were nothing more than their parts—jaws, abs, thighs, hands, cocks. Things that made him pant in the night.

But now, there was a face. There was a pair of lips, ones he had heard speak and laugh. A sum of parts that exceeded everything he had imagined before.

And the guilt that came after was so much worse. It followed him after he’d jumped down from his bed and put his boots on. Lingered when he threw hay or fixed the tractor. Crawled across his skin at inopportune times, reminding him of sins he’d never let into the cold light of day.

Shaking his head, Aiden left Isaac chattering in the background while he finished up with Eagle. Mindlessly, he let him back out into the pasture and whistled for Sugar. The sun was going down, bathing the world in a grey haze that had his eyes playing tricks on him.

Through the gloom he saw Ethan materialize, like a specter called by thought alone. He was stepping out of his truck, still in his work clothes, with an armful of papers. They looked heavy.

Sugar’s ears pricked when she saw him. Ignoring Aiden, she trotted forward. Ethan juggled the papers so he could bend down to pet her.

“Back again?” Aiden asked as he watched his traitorous dog rub up against the vet.

Ethan flashed him a tired smile. “Yeah. We’re meeting with a few of the bigger ranches next week and I’d like to have my ducks in a row.”

Aiden doubted Ethan’s ducks were ever not in a row, but he didn’t say that. He was probably the kind of guy who did his homework in advance and knew all his teachers by name.

“Why are you doing this?”

Ethan looked up from where he was petting Sugar. “Do what?”

“This.” He pointed at the paperwork Ethan had cradled in his arm. “The whole town hall meeting. You look exhausted.”

“You’ve been watching me, huh?” Ethan teased with a grin.

Aiden ignored him. “That isn’t your ranch.”

“But it’s somebody’s,” Ethan said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Maybe it was to someone like Ethan. Aiden didn’t know. He barely knew the man.