Page 7 of Naughty Elf (Carrillo Ranch)

Chapter Seven

Down in the depths of himself, Rowan pulled out the truth, the truth he didn’t care if everyone knew, except for Sig.

From the moment he’d seen the man, he felt a connection that was strange, to say the least but wanted. If Sig rejected him over the truth, he’d know that connection was simply his inner self, needing to find someone.

“Tell me. I am no one to judge.”

“See, but you are. If you feel negatively about me after I make this big confession, it will hurt. And yeah, I’d get over it, sure, but for a while, it’s gonna hurt.”

Sig reached over to him, grabbing Rowan’s face in a tight, painful grip. “Stop with that shit. Right now. What? Are you a serial killer? Do you seduce men and then peel off their faces and wear them like a mud mask or something?”

Barking a laugh, Rowan answered, “Of course not.”

“Then stop it. Tell me.” He said as his hand fell to Rowan’s lap.

“I’m a prostitute.”

Watching Sig’s face closely, expecting disgust, Rowan was surprised when Sig’s face didn’t change at all.

“And? Get on with it.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m a whore!”

It was Sig’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fuck, who cares? We’re all whores, just some of us aren’t smart enough to get paid.”

As Rowan’s eyes blinked furiously, he tried to understand the guy, but there wasn’t anything to decipher. “That really doesn’t matter to you?”

“Well, the only thing that would bother me about that is if we got together and decided to be together for the long haul. Then, I’d be damned pissed off.”

Rowan’s entire body relaxed until he was slumping in the couch cushions. “I can’t believe it. Did that at least earn me your real name, Santa?”

“Fuck. I nearly forgot about that. I…I, uh, I’m Sigmund Longfield.”

Laughing, Rowan asked, “Is that supposed to shock me, or mean something?”

“I might, when you look me up on your phone.”

Rowan swung his legs off Sig and stood from the couch. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go look you up, but you have to get the wine out of the cabinet and pour us each a glass.”

“Okay. You’ll need it.”

Rowan couldn’t imagine what that was all about, so he rushed to the bedroom and grabbed the phone he’d left charging on the nightstand. He typed in Sigmund Longfield, and hit enter, then watched as tens of thousands of results poured into the phone.

Rowan hit the first link and was taken to a site about horse breeders. On the page was a huge picture of Sigmund shaking hands with a big guy in a nice suit. They were standing in front of a gorgeous horse whose black hair shined brilliantly and had his head high.

The article started with ‘ Winning horse is once again the product of award-winning Longfield Farm. Tanqueray Twilight wins the Kentucky Derby, like his brother, Bourbon Boy won the previous year. Tanqueray beat his brother by a neck, giving them the first and second spot this year.’

“Holy shit!”

He took his phone with him back to the living room and sat hard on the couch as he continued to scroll through, looking at each and every headline. “You breed amazing racehorses. You save wild horses…are you like horse-superman?”

“No. I just…know horses. I can pick winners so well that no track will allow me to bet any more. They think I rig it somehow.”

“But why…okay, I don’t get it. This is supposed to make me not want to be around you?”

“Not exactly,” he said as he handed Rowan a glass of wine. “I’m skittish. Men like me because of my money. All but one since I made any money, that’s all they see in me. Dollar signs.”

“Oh, and you’re worried I’m one of them? That’s rude!”

Sig laughed at that. “No, I don’t suppose you are. You have your own money and you travel all over. I guess…I guess I don’t have to worry about that with you, but you needed to see where my fear resides.”

“Oh! Well, I can see that. I guess that would suck. It’s not my money so much, but guys like being with me to put some notch on their bedposts. Look at the famous dancer I banged .”

Blowing off all the rest, one thing made Rowan curious. “Tell me about the wild horses. I didn’t know there was still such a thing!”

That began the conversation that went in many directions for hours. Rowan didn’t remember ever laughing so much, or being so interested in hearing about someone’s life. Sig had an incredible life, though he wouldn’t talk much about his past relationship. Single relationship. It got mentioned, but Rowan wouldn’t pry. If it was painful, Rowan didn’t want to ruin the evening.

The first bottle of wine was toast, and Rowan begged off opening the second, so they made cocoa. Rowan watched Sig keep the fire going whenever it threatened to die.

Having a night of conversation was strange enough, but being so involved in it was what shocked him. Most men led damn boring lives. He included himself in that. The travel and dancing got old to talk about after the second or third sentence.

Sig, however, had tales that were rife with adventure. The way he described his home, his farm, the land around it, it seemed like a magical place. He’d been in New Mexico exactly once, dancing a gig in Santa Fe. He liked the city enough, what he saw of it, but he never thought much about it.

Hearing how beautiful it was—the coyotes, the snakes, the heat—everything made it seem like the vibe that Carrillo Ranch created in Montana—rugged, beautiful, and not for the weak. And Sig was definitely not weak.

“And you just…know when a horse is a good racer?”

“It’s not mystical or anything. I look at the muscle, the form, the gait, all of it. I see the horse’s attitude, too. A skittish horse will never race well. Neither will an overly aggressive one, though I have tamed a couple that were decent enough in a race. A horse with a brain and a strong intellect is the horse you want for your winners. Many breeders think it’s the opposite. They want horses they can train to the very last detail and obedient ones that only train for one thing. That isn’t a good horse, in my opinion, for a race like those big ones.”

“Like people, I guess.”

“Horses aren’t much different than people. Take football. You wouldn’t want a bunch of guys on the field that can’t think for themselves, right? Shit happens that you need to think on your feet. Some of the players that make the biggest impact are bordering on genius. Someone stupid who can only follow orders doesn’t make a good player. Same with horses.”

“I’ll admit, I don’t know much about football, or football players except maybe for drooling over a bunch of them. You’re right, though.”

Sig shook his head, a little ticked off, Rowan could tell. “People talk about dumb jocks, and sure, there are some out there. But they won’t get to the big games, making the big money. It takes guts and brains, both. Like any other profession.”

Rowan saw how intense he was about certain subjects, righteous indignation, that was called. “You have a beautiful view of the world.”

“I’m a cynical old bastard.”

Laughing, Rowan chided, “No. You’re not. You just like to hide behind that persona, so no one gets too close. I’m like that. But…Sigmund, you have a way of looking at things, a soft look. And you see further than most. The world is not black and white. Most people, that’s all they see, but you see all the shades of all the colors.”

Sig moved to kiss him lightly. “Thanks.”

They fell asleep on the couch, right where they sat until the early hours of the morning. Rowan awoke to the smell of bacon cooking. He saw the window letting in the brightest sunlight he had ever seen. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” he said from the little kitchenette. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Rowan dragged himself off the couch and stood, stretching before he went into the kitchen to kiss Sig slowly, wrapping his arms around Sig’s neck to properly celebrate the morning. “Merry Christmas.” He looked at the plate of bacon and saw Sig preparing more food. “Where the heck did you get this stuff? I didn’t have it here.”

Rowan moved to the kitchenette to see Sig smiling slyly. “I have my ways.”

“Jace?”

“No,” he said defensively, but then he laughed a little. “His little boyfriend, Tango.”

Rowan jumped onto the counter to sit and watched him. “Little boyfriend, who is the head of the entire ranch’s security?”

“That would be the one, yeah.”

“Nice. Good connections, you have.”

“Jace worked for me years and years ago. Good guy. He was one of the hardest workers I ever had. It was a shame to lose him, but back then, he didn’t like settling in one place for long. Seeing the entire country is one of the best parts of being a ranch hand. Learning to ranch in the deserts, the mountains, or plains.”

Rowan wanted to say, " I admire you," but he held back. He didn’t hate his life; he just found it lonely. From what he’d seen and the things Sig had said the previous evening, Rowan knew he was lonely, too.

Sig pulled him close again to kiss him, then embraced him tightly. “Take a look over in that corner.”

“What corn—,” he started before he turned to see a small Christmas tree with red bulbs and a glittery star on top. “How the hell?”

“Tango brought it, too. I only asked him for what’s under it.”

Rowan smiled suspiciously at him. “What’s under it?”

“Santa brought his special elf a gift. Are you questioning Santa?”

“Oh, never!”

Rowan walked over to the tree, touching one of the bulbs to make it move and catch the light from the window's reflection. Under the little tree was an envelope. All it said on the outside was his name: Rowan .

Glancing over to Sig while he plated the food, Rowan’s cheeks hurt from how huge his smile was. He opened the envelope and took out a postcard of Carrillo Ranch, and once he flipped it over, he saw that he had been invited to stay for the week with a VIP package and special accommodations.

“Sig?”

Sig moved across the room to him and took the postcard from him, setting it on the table under the tree. “If you want. No pressure, but I’d like to spend some time with you if you'd like.”

Rowan’s eyes filled with tears that he tried and failed to blink away before they slid down his cheeks. “I’d…I’d love to! I mean…Sig, this is expensive!”

“I told you. I have money.”

Rowan wrapped his arms around Sig’s neck again, kissing him until the tears wet them both. Sig went to the bathroom to get him some tissue, and he handed it to Rowan with a question. “You…really want to?”

“Of course. I love it here, and the thought of being here with you…”

“Good. Well, you’ll have to pack. We’re moving to a better place. I don’t know what could be better than these cabins, but Tango and Jace told me there was a special home that they’d like us to use for the week.”

“Us. We’d both stay there?”

“It has two bedrooms. I already asked. I told you, Rowan. I’m not pressuring you for sex or anything. Just, maybe, your company.”

“What if I want to have sex? Can I pressure you?”

He was ready to laugh, and Sig did laugh. “Are you kidding? Twist my arm, baby. I’m good.”

They ate breakfast while staring across the table at one another. Sig was big, strong, thick but solid, just the way Rowan had dreamed of a man to be. In those arms, he felt protected and special, and that wasn’t normal for him. There was always a wariness for the men he was with at any given time, but not with Sig. He was something special.

After two that afternoon, Jace pulled up in a jeep and helped Rowan with his bags, at least the ones Sig hadn’t grabbed. They stopped at Sig’s for him to quickly pack and get his things into the jeep before taking off on the freshly plowed road north.

“Where is this place, Jace?”

“I’ll tell ya, Sig, this is special. It’s not for anyone but friends. See, when this whole place was being planned, the owners wanted an area for their family and friends to stay in when they came here to visit. There are permanent homes, sure, for a few of the guys who are…well…that family. You know.”

“They’re mafia fellas,” Sig said.

“Yeah.”

Rowan had heard the rumors but hearing them confirmed was a little shocking. He was holding Sig’s hand, knowing that no matter what, Sig would protect him.

“So, it’s one of their houses?”

“Yes, a sweet little guest house with three bedrooms, an indoor hot tub, a fully stocked bar, and a kitchen. Well, the kitchen is being stocked now with perishables for you two. But the kitchen is stocked with cooking stuff, spices, all that, and whatever you want, we’ll bring for you.”

“Jace, that’s a lot. I’m being billed for it, right?”

“Some of it, but Sig, you are selling us prize-winning horses to breed and race. It’s another layer of business for the bosses, and I, for one, am excited as hell to get them and watch the ranch hands take care of them.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Rowan could tell that Sig didn’t want special treatment, but Rowan wanted to give him some regardless. “I hope you don’t mind if I spoil you some. I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”

“You. That’s all I want. Being close to you.”

The warmth that spread through him could have melted every bit of snow. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m a grouchy old turd.”

Jace heard that and agreed. “Amen to that. Grouchy fucker, yup.”

“Okay, driver, just drive the damn vehicle!”

Rowan could feel the camaraderie between the two men. When Sig had told him Jace had once worked for him, it said a lot that they’d parted well, they were still friends. Jace had a deep respect for the man, as Sig did for him.

Former employers didn’t always turn into friends. The opposite was true for Rowan, but it was nice seeing how well they got along, and how easily they laughed together.

The ride was beautiful as all the others had been. The world around them was covered in a blanket of fluff, the light so bright that it was hard to stare at the brilliance. Cold tried to seep into his bones by just staring at it, but with Sig next to him and both riding in the backseat, he was warm enough to sweat.

Farther north than he’d been so far took them near a tall mountain with spires white and dangerous. They looked as though they were trying to tear up the very sky, but still…they brought him peace.

Passing by one house, then two, Rowan grew excited. “They’re all Scandi homes.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, excited. “My partner designed all of them. Well, he mostly designed the entire place, but these were fun for him. He’s very much in love with Scandi design. He got to make over twenty homes in this style.”

“Twenty? Wow!”

The homes were simple, unadorned, but that was one of the things that made them so beautiful. Light pine mixed with dark stone, concrete or darker woods made up the exteriors, and having them nestled in the trees, they looked right at home.

When Jace pulled up to the one where he and Sig would be staying, he smiled from ear to ear. The home was a lovely two story, a tall A-frame in front with a long addition to the right.

The landscaping was natural; only local trees and bushes were purposely scattered. A shallow set of stairs led to the front doors, two tall, pine wood doors plain and beautiful in their simplicity.

“There are a couple of these homes near me on the beach. I get this design is popular, but they don’t belong on a southern beach like that.”

Sig chuckled. “Well, damn. There goes me building one of these in New Mexico.”

“No! There, you should have an Adobe or one of those beautiful Spanish-style homes,” he said as they got out of the jeep and started grabbing their bags from the back.

The interior of the house was beautiful. There were white leather couches with fluffy white rugs under them and a long dark wood coffee table. A standing lamp was in the corner of the main room next to a wicker chair that faced the huge window on that side of the home, right through the slanted roof of the A-frame.

A small kitchen was open to the rest of the area and a black, wrought-iron staircase led to the second level, right next to the window in the back of the great room.

Poofs, stools, and a grand fireplace completed the room, leaving it uncluttered and elegant.

“This is beautiful,” Sig said in a whisper.

“My Roland and one of the owners did all the decorating too, at least on the houses that weren’t owned.”

“They did a great job,” Rowan said. “It’s lovely.”

“The bedrooms are upstairs, of course, except for the smaller room that is off the study down that hall to the right. The two upstairs have their own bathrooms and a nice sitting area with a computer and television. Did you want help with the bags?”

“No,” Sig said. “I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks, my friend.”

They shook hands and Jace pointed to the kitchen. “I made sure they stocked the fridge with some steaks and ribs. I know how you like them.”

“Thank you. I’ll make some good dinners for my naughty elf, here.”

Rowan laughed at the name. “I can cook, too.”

As soon as Jace was gone, Sig grabbed two of the bags and kissed Rowan. “Come pick your room, or I’ll pick first and you can suffer.”

“I’ll race you.”