Chase the Storm (3 page)

The images of my summer of freedom faded more with each problem he listed. I was thankful I hadn’t been stranded alone in the absolute middle of nowhere, forced to call my father for help. But as I looked around at the grand total of half a dozen buildings in the town, I realized I
was
inthe middle ofnowhere; I just wasn’t alone.

“Canyoufixit?”

 

“Yep, but being an ancient truck, I will have to special order some parts, probablyfromanantique dealer,”he teased, “It’s gonna cost ya.”

“How much?”I asked worriedly.
He shrugged. “Best I canfigure, about $1,500 for everything.” “Fuck.”I sighed and myheart sank.

I could have whipped out my credit card and charged it, but I was trying to start a new life, one that didn’t rely on my parents for everything. IfI paid himin cash, it would wipe me out. I had to face it. I was going to need money.

“Want me to go ahead and fix it? Probably take about a week or so to get the parts and installthem,”he explained.

 

“Yeah, okay,”I agreed.

Not like I had much choice. I was going to have to find a place to stay, and then at the end of the week, use my credit card to pay for it before slithering back to my parents and begging for their forgiveness. While I waited, Mike went into his office to see if he could find the parts he needed. Careful to avoid the tools and greasy car parts scattered about, I wandered around the garage and found a bulletin board with ads for cars, tractors, and even one cow for sale thumbtacked to it. Maybe I was better off finding another cheap car instead of fixing the Ford, but then I glanced at it over my shoulder. It’d only been in my possession for a few days, but I felt a connection to it and couldn’t give it up. Not after the dream it was helping me live. My eyes scanned the handwritten ads out of boredom more than anything. The last one was on plain white paper and not advertisinganythingfor sale. It was a help wanted ad.

Farmhand needed. Experience not necessary, but must be hard worker.
Minimal pay, room/board included.

Mike reappeared with a pad of paper in his hand. “Want the good news or bad?”

 

“Good,”I answered, hopingit would far outweighthe bad. “I was pretty close with the price. It’ll be $1,700 for parts and labor.”

“And the bad?”
“It’llbe a few weeks before I get themallin.”

After a few weeks of paying for a hotel and eating out, I was surely going to run out of money and wouldn’t have enough to pay for the truck, much less have a way to get back to Boston. My attention was drawn back to the bulletinboard.

“Do you know that place?” I asked, pointing to the paper at the bottom. It was stupid and foolish, and I would be better offfinding a hotel somewhere, but I needed money. I’d never worked on a farm before. Hell, I’d never even touched a cow, but taking chances was part of the new me.

“McKenzie’s? Sure do. Nice guy, quiet, sticks to himself. Comes into townonce a monthfor his mail.”

“Theydon’t deliver it?”
“Nah, he’s too far out.”
McKenzie must have beenevenmore inthe middle ofnowhere.

“It says he needs help.” I hedged, hoping to get information without prying.

“Yeah, he’s got several hundred acres. Wheat and hay mostly, but he’s got some horses he trains and sells. Been trying to keep his head above water since… Well, for a while now.”

“Honestly, I don’t know shit about farming, but I could use the moneyand a place to stayfor a few weeks. Has he found anyone?” “Nope. Everyone around here already has work to do. Want me to bringyouout there?”he offered.

 

“Ifit’s not too muchtrouble.”I accepted quickly.

 

“Sure thing. Was just about to head home anyway. Give me a few minutes to close up.”

About twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of a Chevy pickup truck that was only slightly newer than my Ford, bouncing around as Mike sped along a thin, dirt road. In hopes things would work out, I had my duffle bag sitting on the floor between my feet. I thought the town had seemed small, but once we left the town’s center, there was literally nothing but fields and fences. Just when I was starting to be coaxed to sleep by the amber pastures, Mike turned onto an even narrower dirt road, hittinga pothole.

“I think youleft the engine back there,”I joked as I held the door for stability.

 

Mike laughed. “That was nothing. You should see them down my way.”

 

“I can’t believe someone actuallylives out here.”

 

“Yeah, well, I told ya, he leads a solitary lifestyle,” he said with a smirk.

On the horizon, I could barely make out a large red building with a smaller twin next to it. To its right, separated by a two-car garage and set back farther, was a modest two-story, white house. A large fenced pasture ran parallel to the barn while a white fenced ring resided at the end of it. As we neared, I saw a truck parked beside the house and a tractor infront ofthe barn. Attached to the back ofit was a trailer stacked withbales ofhay.

“There he is,” Mike said as we neared, lifting his finger from the steeringwheelto point to where the tractor and trailer were.

For the second time since leaving Boston, my heart raced, and it had nothing to do with running away fromresponsibilities and everything to do with the specimen of a man in front of us. Taller than me by at least a few inches, he had dirty blond hair that hung around his face in damp clumps. My eyes tracked down his body, pausing at his shirtless, tanned, welldefined torso. A long neck led to wide shoulders, a firm chest and muscular back, all glistening with a mixture of perspiration and dirt. Old, worn Levi’s sat low on his hips, but snuggly curved around his ass. I roamed down his long legs to the brown cowboy boots peeking out from the cuffs of his jeans. Apparently not realizing he had company, he reached down with his leather-gloved hands, gripping the twine of a bale, and then, bracing it against his thigh, turned, and threw it onto a conveyor belt that slowly carried it into a hayloft. The muscles in his back undulated under his smoothskin, ripplingwitheachslight movement.

It was the sexiest thingI’d ever seen.

 

Much sexier than the guys at the club I’d gone to, or that I had seen onthe campus inBoston. This guywas allman.

Mike stopped the truck, parked it, and opened his door. Swallowing my arousal, and hoping my erection wasn’t obvious in my shorts, I opened my door and followed Mike. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the distinct odor of a farm, grass, manure, and animals. The man continued to work as we walked up.

“How’s it going, Chase?”Mike asked casually.

 

“Not bad,” Chase huffed, swinging another hay bale onto the belt. “How ’bout yourself? Sarahand the kids doingwell?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mike answered politely. “They’re getting bigger every day. Sarahmentioned havingyouaround for dinner sometime soon.” “Give her mybest,”Chase answered without acceptingthe offer. “I’ve got someone here who was asking about the ad you posted at mygarage.”

 

“Oh?”Chase replied, ignoringme completely.

 

“Yep. Looking for some work and a place to stay while I work on his truck. I told himyouwere a nice guy.”

 

Finally, Chase stopped and placed his hands on his hips as he regarded Mike. “Now whythe helldid yougo and do that?” Mike shrugged. “Because I know beneath that tough exterior is a decent guywho would help out someone inneed.”

I stood awkwardly and anxiously next to Mike. Chase sighed and finally dragged his eyes fromhis work to me. After a good shake to move the hair from his eyes, he looked me up and down. I shifted uncomfortably as the most intense and hardened blue eyes I’d ever seen raked my body from head to foot, pausing on my thighs and shoulders. Quiveringwitheveryinchhe covered, I tried to returnhis judgmentalstare withone ofmyown.

Withhands stillonhis hips, he jutted his chintoward me. “Ever work a farm, kid?”he asked condescendingly.

 

Chewing on my lower lip, I shook my head. “No, sir, but I learn quickly.”

 

He snorted, his gaze falling to my expensive watch and designer clothes. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t want youto break a nail.”

Determined, I stepped forward, my eyes firmly holding his. Surprised, he stepped back, watching me curiously as I mimicked his actions and snuck my bare hands around the twine before lifting the bale and heaving it onto the conveyor. My arms and back strained with the effort, but I didn’t let it show.

“At least give me a chance,” I implored as pieces of hay drifted in the air and landed onhis head.

For a long moment, he examined me, and up close, I could see the stormbrewing in his eyes rivaled the blue of the early summer sky above us. I couldn’t blame him for his reservations. I was an outsider he’d be lettinginto his home, trustingwithhis possessions.

“Do youhave anythings?”
“Just a bagwithsome clothes and mylaptop.”

“You better learn quickly or be on your way,” he threatened with a hint ofa dazzlingsmile I wanted to see more of.

 

“Does that meanI’mhired?”I asked nervously.

 

“I give you two days before you’re asking me to bring you back to town,”he challenged.

 

“I won’t let you down,” I promised, unable to stop a grin from bloomingacross myface.

 

Mike patted me onthe shoulder. “I’llget your bag.”

He walked toward the truck and I looked around the barn. It was much larger up close. Wooden stalls lining both sides of a wide aisle, cluttered withwheelbarrows and equipment, randownthe entire length.

“What’s your name, kid?”
“ElijahMorgan.”I stretched myhand out toward him.
“I’mChase.”

He returned to his work. There was no handshake, not even a “nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t until I saw the dust swirling behind Mike’s truck as he barreled down the driveway and left me standing there with my duffle bag and a stranger that I trulyunderstood what I’d done.

“Don’t just stand there,” Chase grumbled, motioning to a large wooden box. “Grab a pair of gloves and finish emptying this trailer. When you’re done with that, you can water the horses. The hose is over there.” He pointed to the coiled greenhose hangingona rack.

Before I could ask any questions, he walked off, long strides carryinghimquicklyacross a smallfield to a crooked metalgate. Standing on the second railing, he leaned forward and put his fingers between his lips, emittinga loud whistle. Squinting, I saw nothing, but heard the distinct sound of thundering hooves. Afraid he would catch me watching himand myemployment would end abruptly, I put onthe gloves and lifted the next bale ofhay.

By the time I was filling up the bucket in the last stall, I was covered with sweat and my newly stained shirt was sticking to me. Dirt and hay and sawdust covered my clammy legs, and I suddenly understood why people wore jeans around farms. Wiping my arm across my brow, I chanced a glimpse down the aisle to where Chase was measuring grain into buckets. He’d already brought the horses inside. One by one, he’d led them from the large pasture to their stalls, talking to them all in a sweeter voice than he’d used with me. I tried not to focus on the way his back looked as he bent over, the way his jeans fit him just right, or the wayhis ass—

“Done yet?”

 

My eyes shot to his face as he glared at me over his shoulder. “Last stallnow.”

 

He turned around and I closed my eyes, jumping back when the water overflowed onto mysneakers.

 

“Damnit!”I cursed to myself.

Leaving the stall, I wound up the hose and then wandered down the aisle. The name ofeachhorse was carved inwoodenplates oneachdoor. I looked in each stall, trying to remember their color to match it with their names. WhenI paused infront ofthe first stall, Tantor, a brownand white horse, pinned his ears back and swished his long white tail. Moving on, I introduced myself to Lakota, a friendly bay, then McLeod, a small white horse, and Jet, an almost red horse with a blaze of white on his face. Across the aisle from them were Keno, a chestnut with four white legs, Sampson, a bayhorse witha longblack mane, and Calvin, a goldenhorse with flaxen mane and tail. In the last stall was Admiral, easily the biggest horse I’d ever seen. As black as night, he had a glossy coat and flowing mane and tail. His head was hanging over the door, his eyes half closed in a drowsy state, but when I went to pat his face, a hand snagged my wrist sharply.

“Don’t touchhim. He bites,”Chase warned firmly.
“He looks friendly,”I challenged.

“Looks aren’t everything, kid.” He released me, and something softened in himfor a second, then the sternness returned. “You have food inthat thing?”He pointed to mybagstillsittingat the end ofthe aisle.

“No.”
“C’mon, then. I’llmake us something. Tomorrow, youstart.” I thought I had alreadystarted.

As we walked toward the house, I wondered where the rest of the animals were. I didn’t see any sign of chickens or pigs or cows, all necessary farm animals to a city boy. I followed him up the steps of the large wraparound porch. Awicker swing hung in the corner, and a few of the black shutters framing the paned windows were slightly crooked, but there was a warmth about the house. He opened the screen door and motioned me inside, lettingit slambehind us.

The inside resembled the outside, slightly worn but well loved. Chase’s boots clicked onthe wood floors as he walked downthe hallway toward the back of the house. I followed him, glancing around and taking in as much as I could in the short length to the kitchen, which was large and open with a wooden island in the middle. He didn’t show me around at all, so I stood in the kitchen, craning to see down the hallway. There were a few doors in one direction and what appeared to be a living room inthe other.

Seeming to forget I was even there, Chase worked quietly. Not sure what I was supposed to do, I didn’t dare offer to help. The way he was moving, I would have only been in the way. Curious about my new home, I ambled into the large living room, complete with fireplace and mantel, television in the corner, bookcases, and chairs with lamps next them to read by. Dimly lit, the roomoffered a serene quality, one I could tell held fond memories.

The shelves laden with books attracted me like a moth to the flame. All but one of my books was in my footlocker, which Mike was bringing bythe next day. I fingered the spines ofthe classic novels scattered inwith the books on farming and animal care. Moving from the bookcase to the fireplace, I smiled when I saw a framed picture of Chase. He looked younger, his bright eyes and a wide smile taking years off his age, but there was something else about him in the picture. His arm was around another man.