THEY ENDED up at the pizza place, where they could carb load. Curtis needed the illusion of something healthy, and they had salads he could have with his monster calzone.
Stetson wanted to tease, but he figured it was still too soon for that. Curtis had that whole love-hate thing with food. Making a big thing of it would make Curtis shut down and eat nothing but poached chicken and egg whites. Maybe frozen grapes.
Him? He ate food when there was some around. Didn’t when there wasn’t. Watching Curtis eat was still on the top of his wish list, though.
That lean pocket cowboy could flat-out moan and lick his fork.
Thank God for sitting down and jeans that were holding everything back.
“You okay?” Curtis asked, nibbling at cheese he pulled off Stetson’s pizza.
“Just admiring the view, is all.”
“The view—oh.” Curtis flushed. “It’s good shit.”
“It is. I used to come a lot, just to hang out.” Then he’d gotten old, right along with Momma.
“It seems like a happening place.” The little dining room was packed, the noise and scent of garlic almost overwhelming.
“Yeah, it was, once upon a time. Still, I guess.”
“I like the calzone. And the pizza.”
“Hey, Stetson.” Angela Hollis stopped by the table then. She worked back in the kitchen.
“Hey, Angie honey. How’ve you been?” He stood, held out one hand.
“Good. Good. Lula said you were here and, well, I wanted to say….” She took his hand. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you. It was time, I think.” Hell, he knew.
“I know it must be hard, though.” She patted his hand, her expression all sympathy.
He nodded, trying to remember how to breathe. He didn’t want to do this, stand here and try to understand what the fuck he felt. If he started thinking about how Momma was gone, then he had to think about bills and taxes and how he was so fucking happy not to go back to the fucking hospital and be able to sleep with Curtis in his bed, and that made him a bad man, and he knew it.
“Hi, I’m Curtis.” Curtis stood as well and held out a hand to Angie.
“Hey there. You don’t remember me, but we met a long time ago. It was four kids ago.”
“Well, heck, I’m sorry.” Curtis beamed. “I’ll remember from now on, I reckon.”
“You staying out to the ranch?”
“Yes, ma’am. Stetson needs me.” Curtis didn’t bat an eye.
“I bet he does. That place is big, and it needs about four more hands.”
“It’s not that bad, Angie.” Stetson waved off that concern. It was his place. He knew every inch of that land and what it needed.
“Uh-huh. I’ll come by tomorrow with food, huh?”
“That would be a kindness.” Stetson hugged her, smelling basil and tomatoes and bread.
“You have a good night.” She kissed his cheek before leaving them.
“I don’t remember her, babe. Who is she?”
“You remember that girl that worked at the diner? The one that used to wait on us early?”
“No shit?” Curtis glanced back to the kitchen. “Huh.”
“I know. She’s changed. We all have.”
“Sure we have. We’re all old as fuck.” Curtis winked.
“Yeah, damn near what? Thirty for you?”
“Yep. Long in the tooth for the rodeo game.” Something pained crossed Curtis’s face, so fast he hardly had time to see it.
“Stop it. You’re the best in the world.” Surely Curtis got that, believed it, knew it.
“I am this year.” Curtis shook it off visibly, reaching for the last bite of his calzone and drenching it in sauce.
What was he supposed to say about that? Nothing, he guessed, so he didn’t. He just picked at a bit of pizza until Curtis took it away from him and ate that too.
“You okay?” Maybe the better question was, was he fucking okay? He wasn’t sure. Not at all.
“I’m fine, baby. I am.” Curtis nudged his foot under the table.
“Stetson? We just wanted to say how sorry we were to hear about your momma.” Mr. and Mrs. Apodaca stood there, Ralph’s hat in hand. “Can we stop by tomorrow? Bring food?”
He stood again, feeling like he was in church. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. She’s at peace now.”
“Finally with your papa again, hmm?” She was such a dear lady, but he wasn’t sure he could hack this.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure he came to get her.” Please. Please, he just wanted to scream. He didn’t want to think right now.
“Well, I’ll bring Flora by with food tomorrow,” Ralph said, clearly more in tune with the cowboy way.
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I appreciate it.” He sat, his hands fisted in his lap. These were good people. His people. They just wanted to mourn with him.
“You want to get a box for the rest, Roper?” Curtis asked quietly.
“Yeah. I’m done, and it’s too good to waste.”
“It is.” Curtis rubbed his belly and winked, then simply turned to look at their waitress, which brought her running.
“You guys ready?” When Curtis nodded, she leaned and whispered, “It’s on the house. We’re so glad to have you back, and so sorry for the reason.”
“Thank you.” His throat closed up. Stetson wanted to go get groceries and never leave the house again.
“Hey, this is for you, then.” Curtis tugged out his wallet and handed her a five. Good man. “Can we get a box?”
“Of course.”
As soon as she left, he stood. “I need a….” Shit, he was supposed to have stopped smoking. “I’ll be outside.”
Then he took off and headed to the parking lot to light up. It was a crutch, one he couldn’t afford, and a poor one at that, but it calmed his nerves.
Curtis joined him just a few minutes later. “That’s nasty, Roper.”
He guessed the grace period was over. Curtis had been good about the smoking when Momma was in the hospital.
“Uh-huh.” Didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna finish this one.
“I mean it, baby.” Curtis took the smoke and crushed it out. “So not good for you.”
He didn’t know whether to snarl or be pleased that someone cared enough to notice. Stetson settled on pleased and just nodded, then handed Curtis the half pack he had left.
“I can’t promise not to hunt them when I’m desperate,” Stetson murmured.
“You won’t find them. As high as we are here, you don’t need them.”
“Butthead.” He sighed, rolling his head on his neck. “Let’s hit the Smith’s, huh?”
“Yeah. We need snacks and things we can eat around all the enchilada casseroles and tamales we’re fixin’ to get.”
Stetson smiled faintly. “We ought to get a ton of tortillas too. We should grab some of that grilled chicken and a bag of beans.”
“What do you want that’s decadent, baby? Seriously, something you want bad?”
“Swiss Cake Rolls.” He said it immediately, no thought necessary.
Curtis stared a moment, then laughed softly. “You remember that weekend we spent snowed in over in Cedaredge in Colorado? We survived on dry roasted peanuts and Doritos and Swiss Cake Rolls.”
“And those weird olives. God, those were so good. Salty.” He’d had so much fun. They’d made love over and over, keeping each other warm.
“Yeah.” Curtis got them going, driving to the Smith’s. “We’ll definitely get those, then.”
“Maybe a little container….” They cost a damn fortune.
“Don’t worry about it, babe. I got this trip. You know I’m picky about my coffee and creamer.”
Oh, didn’t that make him laugh. “You and your fancy-assed coffee!” For whatever reason, that made Stetson happy as a pig in shit.
“All that time spent on the road. I swear, they put crack in Starbucks.” Curtis grinned across the cab at Stetson, and his heart clenched. Fuck, there’d never been anyone so beautiful in his eyes. No one.
Curtis hummed with the radio, something on the new country station on Sirius that Stetson had never even heard. They got parked at the grocery store and headed in, and he wondered if he should tell the pharmacy folks Momma was gone. Too late tonight, anyway, and she hadn’t filled anything there in a long while, not since she’d been down in Santa Fe.
“Come on, baby. It’s late and no one’s about. Let’s goof off a little.”
“Pretend that we’re kids again?” Pretend that everything was okay?
“That’s it.” Curtis hit the produce first, zooming the cart across the floor.
“Don’t forget to grab grapes!”
“Whoops!” Curtis spun in a tight circle, the cart wheels squealing.
“Ride ’em, cowboy!” Oh sweet Jesus! He held his belly and laughed so hard, he damn near choked.
Curtis squealed to a stop, then bowed for him, dramatic as hell.
“That—you.” Stetson wheezed. “Old Mrs. Ramirez will call the cops.”
“What fun is that?” Curtis chuckled. “I’m not hurting nothin’.”
“She’s just a fan of orderliness.” He winked. “Grapes?”
“And a couple of bananas.” Curtis started putting fruit in the basket.
“Perv,” he whispered.
“I am.” Curtis nodded easily. “You are what you eat, after all.”
Stetson blinked, and then he started laughing, the sound tearing out of him.
Curtis pushed to the veggies next, adding bagged salad, radishes, and avocados.
It was more fun to follow, watch in fascination as Curtis shopped. They moved on to meat, and he noticed Curtis mostly trolled the outer ring of the store where most of the health stuff lived. They did get ice cream. And Swiss Cake Rolls. Nuts. Doritos. Lord.
Then Curtis stopped by the pharmacy and picked up lube—the warming kind.
“Curtis Traynor!”
“What? Trust me. It’s amazing. Do you want me to get condoms?”
“Do we need them?”
“Not unless you been doing skanky things, baby.” Curtis went serious. “I haven’t been active. In a while.”
“I—you were the last, that I’d let in.” The only.
“Well, there you go.” Curtis left the rubbers on the shelf. “We got toilet paper and stuff?”
“I’ll grab some. Folks will be coming.”
“I bet. There’s lots of folks who want to pay respects. I’ll make some calls tomorrow about a service like I said.” Curtis was so willing to help. That really made him feel better.
“Yeah. You’re good to me.” He went to grab a thing of Charmin.
Curtis started singing, some silly Chris LeDoux thing that suited the man to the ground.
God, when was the last time he’d been here? A year? More? Christ.
Suddenly he felt like he was going to scream.
“You okay?” Curtis took the toilet paper out of his hands. “You look all froze up.”
“Sorry. Woolgathering.” Considering a total breakdown.
“We’re almost there. We just need some Cokes and we’re out.”
“Good deal.” It would get better, he knew. It had with Daddy. The hurts showed up less and less often, and then one day it was more bittersweet than awful.
He knew, but his heart didn’t really give two shits about what all he knew. His heart ached, and all he could do was look at Curtis, because at least that made him smile.
“Come on.” Curtis hefted two twelve-packs onto the bottom rack of the cart. “Let me take you home.”
“I—yeah. That would be good. Sorry, cowboy, I’m just….” He spread his hands, his shoulders rising.
“Hush, Roper. I got you.” Curtis wheeled up to the checkout. “You want to go wait in the truck?”
“You going to be pissed if I smoke?”
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll stay with you.”
“You got more smokes hid somewhere?” Curtis gave him that look, the one that meant stubborn.
“Probably.” Stetson could do stubborn.
“Butthead.”
“Stetson. Hey. How are you?” Margaret was a sweetheart, and she and Momma had always gossiped together during checkout. “So sorry about Betty.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Yeah, everyone was sorry she was dead. Everyone, but they hadn’t been there the last, terrible few weeks.
That wasn’t fair, was it? Those days were for family and nurses, so that everyone else could remember the dead fondly, not be fiercely glad it was over.
And what kind of fucked-up was he? To be glad the pain and starvation and loss was done. Shit.
“Hey.” Curtis took his arm and moved him out of the way. “Can you bag up some stuff, Roper?”
“Huh? Yeah, sure. Sorry.” He started bagging, head down. Man, they had bought the damn store.
“You’re that rodeo friend of Stetson’s,” Margaret was saying. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Curtis smiled his for-the-fans smile. “It was a good season for me.”
“It was. You must be proud.” Margaret got skinnier every time he saw her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Curtis started bagging as well, and soon enough they were on their way, Margaret promising to drop by with soup.
Good thing they’d bought Saran wrap.
Curtis loaded the truck while he stood there, wishing he had a smoke.
“Baby, come on. You need to just sit a bit, I bet.” Curtis bundled him into the truck.
“I’m sorry. I just….” He had spent months sleeping in his horse trailer.
“I know. No. I mean, I can see how bad this hurts. No platitudes from me.” Curtis reached over to squeeze his leg.
“I thought it was never gonna end. It felt like I was never going to be able to breathe again.”
“Starting to breathe again is the hardest part.” Curtis chuckled. “I remember that from a certain breakup.”
“Yeah. I—I thought I’d never see Danny Gonzales’s face again without wanting to wipe the floor with him.”
Curtis whipped his head around so fast, Stetson thought it might fly off and roll to the floorboards. “What?”
He looked over at Curtis, one eyebrow raised. “You didn’t think I’d notice? I watched every single second of footage of you that was ever uploaded. I know when you’re knocking boots.”
A dark flush stained Curtis’s cheeks, so hard he could see it by the glow of the dash lights. “I did a lot of stupid shit. I never once cheated on you, though. I swear.”
“I believe you. I don’t blame you or nothin’. I’m just sayin’ I may have hated Gonzales a little bit.” It had been what it was. He was married to the land, to the routine, to the idea that his life was in this high desert dirt. Curtis had wanted to live. He hadn’t understood then, but he did now.
“Well, I would have hated me too.” Curtis glanced at him sideways again. “It wasn’t fair to him either.”
“No?” He hoped Curtis had dumped him like a bushel of rotten potatoes. “How long has it been since y’all broke it off?”
His money was on five and a half years.
“I reckon you know that, Roper. We never. I mean, it was never serious enough to—well, shit. I never had to get tested after him, if you get me.”
“I hear you. I don’t want you to think I was stalking you or nothin’. I just missed you.” He’d missed being part of an us.
“I missed you too.” Curtis made a raw little sound. “I’m glad you called me. Even if the reason sucked.”
“She loved you. Hell, she thought I was an idiot. You? She thought you were amazing. You made her happy, coming to see her.”
“I’m glad. She was always good to me.” Curtis turned off at the ranch. “We need to get you a new TV.”
“Whut?” Curtis’s mind worked faster than his, always had.
“We can put it on top of your momma’s if you want, but there’s no reason not to have one in the front room now.”
“I guess not.” Curtis could take it with him and…. “Where do you live, cowboy?”
He knew all of Curtis’s sponsors, where his fan club was stationed, all the stats—how did he not know this?
“Huh? Oh. Uh.” Curtis shrugged. “I have a storage thingy in Grand Junction, where my folks are now. I have a few boxes at my cousin’s in San Angelo.”
“Real estate’s real pricey Colorado way, I hear.” But those hot springs… Lord, Lord.
“Yeah. I mean, Mom and Dad would let me stay up at their cabin, but that always comes with strings.” Curtis had an uneasy relationship with his folks. At best.
He watched the outline of Curtis’s face in the dashboard lights. “If there’s anything you’ve never needed, it was strings, cowboy. You deserve to be wild and free more than anybody I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve done my share of rambling, for sure.” A tiny smile curled Curtis’s mouth. “I’m actually tickled as a pig in shit about Christmas. I haven’t had a real one in a bit.”
“I haven’t either. It’ll be ours.”
“It will.” That had Curtis grinning again, then leaning to kiss him once the truck was parked at the kitchen door.
“Hey, cowboy.” He took one more kiss, because the truck was still warm and it was dark and he wanted to.
The contact settled him some, eased him deep inside.
Now he could unload the truck and maybe make up a little fire for them.
Just something for them.