Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (21 page)

Certainly not Dylan, who seemed more reluctant than him, to let go.

The blonde chuckled softly, and Jake was almost certain his cheeks

were a bit pinker than they needed to be, as he turned fond eyes to the

dog at their feet, still sitting patiently, tail brushing the concrete floor

of the barn at a frantic pace.

“Remember that cute little blonde I was bringing with me?” He

asked. Jake nodded grimly.

“This,” Dylan smiled mischievously, scratching the dog behind its

ear, “is Betsy.” His green eyes sparkled, white teeth shining as he

smiled crookedly.

“Betsy is a
dog
?” Jake knelt down and gave the dog a thorough

scratching, which earned him several sloppy licks to his stubble-

covered chin.

Dylan laughed, “What? You thought she was my girlfriend? Like

I’d introduce her to you, if she was. All the girls always liked you

best.”

Jake had had some theories about that, even back in high school,

but wisely kept them to himself. He laughed, as the dog snuffled at a

particularly sensitive spot along his jaw, tickling him, “Well I’m

happy to meet Betsy. I’m almost done here. Gotta throw down some

bedding and move the colt in, then we’re good. Wanna’ help me with

the straw?”

As Jake looked up, he saw that Dylan hadn’t waited for his

invitation, simply shed his shirt, and had grabbed the pitchfork off the

wall, heading for the wheelbarrow. Shaking his head, he ambled past

his friend, Betsy at his heels, and entered the barn lot, through the

barn’s man-door, lead-rope in hand. Vato looked up at his shrill

whistle, and nickered softly, trotting over from where he grazed by his

mother. The Morgan mare stood quietly, eyeing her colt, but making

no move to intervene, which spoke volumes about her training. He

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latched the tether to the colt’s halter, and led him to the gate that

would take them into the barn, Betsy standing quietly on the other

side of the colt.

Vato sniffed at her, cautiously, and laid his ears back, snorting his

obvious disdain for all things ‘dog’, causing Jake to laugh out loud,

“Aw, she’s alright. Besides, you’re miles bigger than she is. C’mon.”

He spoke quietly, as he tugged lightly on the lead, and the colt turned

his attention back to the task at hand. Vato’s hooves struck the

concrete floor of the barn, and Dylan looked up at the noise, from

where he’d been leaning on his pitchfork, lost in thought. At their

approach, he let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Gorgeous.” He had an odd look, and just for a second Jake could

have sworn the blonde’s eyes were on him. The look vanished so

quickly that Jake was sure he must have imagined it. Clearing his

throat, Dylan continued, “That horse is gorgeous. You’re keeping

him, right?”

Jake busied himself getting Vato all settled in his new home,

giving his neck a pat, “Thinking about it. Haven’t really made up my

mind. Got a little while yet. Give me some of that feed?”

Dylan scooped some of the custom-mixed horse-feed and poured

it in the feed trough, then went to the other side of the barn, and

grabbed a bale of hay, and pitched it in the manger. Jake took the hose

and filled the water tank, listening to the colt as he munched his feed,

now and again butting the wall of the stall, as if it would supply his

need any faster. Oh well, he’d get the hang of it sooner or later.

Satisfied that Vato would be alright over night, Jake coiled the hose as

he walked out of the stall, and Dylan slid the door shut, latching it

behind him. Turning to Jake, he fixed him with a speculative gaze,

“Beer or swim?”

“Gotta’ finish the horses first, D. Pond’s that way, though.” Jake

nodded east, where Dylan could just see the sunlight sparkling off the

water, in the valley between two hills. “I can meet you there after, if

you’d like.”

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 119

He gave the pond a long look, but shook his head at his friend,

“Nah. I’ll wait and help you. Then you can return the favor, and

maybe help me carry my gear into the house?” His tone, like the look

on his face was hopeful, “I’ve…also got a favor to ask. It has to do

with the horses. I’ve…um, I had to bring Zeus with me. I was

wondering if maybe I could pasture him here?”

This news took Jake completely by surprise. A good cowboy

always looked after his horse, true. But he couldn’t think of a single

reason why Dylan would need to bring his 12 year old gelding all the

way from Texas. After all, it was a short visit. Surely Dylan’s folks

could look after the old man that long. “Dylan…yeah. Sure, but why’d

you bring him this far? Couldn’t your folks…?”

“No they, uh, they couldn’t.” he cut him off, quickly, “Long story.

I didn’t have anyone else, and I didn’t think you’d mind. I hated to

spring it on you, but it’s been a long trip for him, and he could use

some TLC. He’s been cooped up in that trailer for two days, now. I’ve

taken him out when I could, but…” Dylan shrugged.

Jake was already making tracks for the pickup, wondering how in

the hell he’d missed the 12-foot horse trailer hitched to the back of it,

finally deciding he must’ve been too busy with the dog and the driver,

to notice. The big palomino turned his head to see who was entering

the trailer, and nickered a greeting as Jake stepped inside. It may have

been ten years since they’d seen each other, but horses have long

memories. Jake gave the old man a quick once-over, and untied the

lead, backing him out of the trailer with practiced skill. Leading him

around the barn to the paddock gate, the two men gave him a more

thorough examination, making sure the long trip hadn’t created any

problems. He looked none the worse for the wear, and was quickly

released from his halter, and happily grazing. There would be an

adjustment period, where the other horses would give him a hard time,

but he’d always been able to take care of himself. He’d find his place

in the pecking order soon enough.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 120

After the mild distraction of getting Zeus taken care of, the other

horses were seen to, Dylan proving as capable as he’d ever been. A

couple of mares were nearly ready to foal, and were moved into the

barn lot. Vato’s dam, Siren, was turned back out to the paddock. The

studs, kept in the barn most of the time, were taken out and exercised,

one-by-one, then put back in their stalls. The stalls that needed

mucking out were taken care of, and all four of the horses in the barn

were given fresh feed and hay. Jake could think of no other reason not

to go to the house. It was too late in the day for a swim, so they had no

other choice. Some how, though, the idea of having Dylan that close,

even though they were technically closer here, in the barn, unnerved

him.

The slender hand on his shoulder caused him to jump, as Dylan’s

smiling face came into view, “Lost in thought? You stink, Jake. Think

you should hit the showers.”

“You ain’t exactly a petunia yourself, smart-ass. C’mon, I’ll give

you the seventy-five-cent tour after we’re both clean.” Both men

grabbed their shirts and headed in the direction of the back door.

Dylan stopped him at the porch, though, laying a hand on top of his,

as he reached for the knob.

“Wait. This pink house is way to purty to go in looking like that.”

His voice was all smooth, Texas drawl, dark and decadent, like

chocolate, and Jake’s heart sped up several notches, as Dylan began

picking something out of his chest hair. His eyes were glued to the

fingers combing through the soft hairs, removing small bits of hay and

straw. Dylan was obviously trying to kill him. Or worse yet, didn’t

even know what the hell he was doing to his friend.

He caught the hand, as it moved in for another comb-through, and

held it fast, inches above his quivering stomach. When he spoke, his

voice was more of a growl than he intended, “Pink, hell! It’s
called

‘Desert Coral’. It uh…it reminds me of home.”

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Wide green eyes darted from their joined hands, to meet Jake’s

intent blue gaze, as Dylan licked his lips, and nodded toward the door,

“Does that thing open, or do we have to break it down?”

Feeling more than a little rattled, Jake opened the door and

motioned his guest inside, closing it behind them. The difference in

temperature was immediate, and felt wonderful against their heated

skin. Silently thanking whatever higher power had been responsible

for air-conditioning, he led the way down the hall to the guest

bathroom. Quickly pointing out where the towels and washcloths were

kept, he started to close the door. Dylan stopped him with a hand,

“Need my suitcase out of the truck. I can go…”

“Where is it? I’ll get it for you, this time.” He offered his friend a

small smile, which caused Dylan to chuckle.

“It’s in the back seat. Along with about a ton of other shit. You

sure?” At Jake’s nod, he added, “Betsy will probably want some food

too. Her stuff’s back there with the suitcase. You sure you want to

mess with it?”

“I’ll take good care of your girlfriend, while you clean up your

act. Your stuff’ll be in the guest room, across the hall, when you need

it.” Jake laughed as he walked away, with the muttered ‘Pervert!’

ringing in his ears, feeling, for the first time since Dylan arrived, like

they were back in high school.

As predicted, Betsy the golden lab was waiting patiently by the

front door, and followed him all the way to the truck. He pulled her

bowls and food out first, and ushered her into the house. He and D

would have to have a little chat later, because he had to know why

everything Dylan owned was in that pickup. This was a short visit,

right? Not a permanent move. Betsy settled down to eating with a

satisfied ‘woof’, seemingly happy that her bowls were in the kitchen,

where the people also ate. This spoke volumes, as he’d always

believed animals belonged
outside
of the house. He was growing fond

of her, already.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 122

The sound of the shower starting up reminded him he still had a

little work to do, so he went back for Dylan’s suitcases, and dutifully

packed them in as well, setting them on the floor beside the bed. He’d

never really furnished the guest room beyond paint and furniture, until

he found out Dylan was coming for a visit. Making haste to the

nearest department store, he’d found sheets and a comforter in a

southwest pattern, the colors muted variations of the ones he was

familiar with as a child. A blanket in the same coral color as the

exterior of the house, boasted black kokopelli figures dancing all over

it. Hastily furnished or not, it was a damned pretty room.

Dylan sang softly in the shower, and he had to stop and listen for

just a moment as the words to an old Ernest Tubb song,
Waltz Across

Texas
, came floating over the sound of the shower. Jake had always

told him he should go to Nashville, but he’d just shaken his head and

laughed it off. Suddenly feeling like he was intruding in some way,

Jake headed for his own room and his own shower, the haunting

melody looping in his head, sung in a clear tenor.

Nothing ends a long, hot day quite like an ice cold beer, and if you

happen to have a friend to share it with, so much the better. As they

sat on the rear deck, too hot to bother with anything other than jeans,

the bitter tang of Lonestar flowed across Jake’s tongue, tasting like

nectar of the gods. They’d got most of Dylan’s stuff moved out of the

truck. His suitcases and a few other small things were in the guest

room. The small amount of furniture in the bed of the truck was safely