RICK’S CELL phone rang as he pulled out of the contractor’s parking lot, tires spinning on the gravel. With the weather so bad, he didn’t have nothin’ to paint, so he headed home to wait for Bill, worrying on that man driving all over hell and half of creation. Damn, the winter was sucking wind this year—and not in that fun, spanky way.
He grabbed the phone, trying to keep it from slipping out of his cold hand. “’Lo?”
“Rick? Hey, Rick, I got a problem….”
Charlene sounded like she was crying, her voice shaking like crazy.
“Honey, what is it?” He turned off the main road at Harris instead of Waters Street, heading out to Charlene’s place.
“I… I’m in the bedroom. We’ve got the door locked and all, but I think he’s a little crazy.”
Shit. Rick didn’t have to ask who “he” was. That jerk Charlene was hooked up with had always been unstable at best. “I swear to God, Char, if he’s touched you, I’m gonna kill him.”
She gave him a watery laugh, and he could hear the kids chattering away in the background. Thank God they were okay. “I ran in and locked the door. He was ranting and raving and all, Rick, really scared me.”
“Well, I’m two minutes away.” He pushed it harder, the tires slipping on the ice, the truck shooshing into Charlene’s drive like a runner sliding into third base. He stormed up the drive and over the porch, ready to tear that no-good bastard down.
No one beat on his family. That asshole was going to leave town, one way or another. Then Rick would go home and make some supper for Billy.
Sounded like a damned fine plan.
LORD HAVE mercy, his ass was cold. The road was slick as snot, from Bonham to Terrell and back over to Waxahachie, and he’d fought to keep that evil bitch between the lines all fucking day—a nine-hour run turning to an eighteen-hour one, just like that. No coffee. No lunch. Nothing at all. Now he was in the pickup, heading home.
Smelling like trash and diesel and rain.
Soaked to the bone.
Stiff as all get-out and with one hand tore to hell, that gas line clamp having bit him but good. Fuck, it was hell being a working man. He shoulda listened to his Aunt Fanny and tried to be a lawyer or something. Yeah. Right. Like he wanted to sit on his fucking ass all day and have to be nice to assholes he didn’t care for. Fuck that.
Bill lit a cigarette, driving with one elbow as he breathed deep, the smoke warming him right on up. He was just trying to get himself home in one piece and not be itching for a fight.
When he pulled into the yard, the dogs were out, all of them covered in mud and sniffing around, the kitchen door sitting wide open. Wide fucking open.
Shit. He hopped out, ignoring his screaming back, to hurry in. Either Rick was dead, the heater was broke, or… the dogs had grown opposable thumbs.
There was mud everywhere. Icy, slimy mud, from the kitchen door all the way through the eat-in, all the way down the hall. Jesus, what a fucking mess.
“Rick? Darlin’? You okay?” He slipped about halfway through the kitchen, cracking his chin on the cabinet but good. Fuck. Stars. Little tweeting birds. Somebody was going to die. “Rick?”
“Billy? I’m in the bathroom!” Well, Rick’s voice came strong enough, echoing down the hall. Okay. So Rick wasn’t dead. Outside the back door, Moose started howling, the sound raising the hair on the back of his neck.
He could feel his chin bleeding, just dripping out, and he tore off his work shirt and held it up to save the carpet as he ran to figure out what the fuck.
The bathroom looked like a mud pie kitchen. Jesus, there was even mud on the ceiling. Rick was almost bare-assed, only his boxer briefs on, and the man’s skin was all but blue.
“Rick? Darlin’? What the fuck? Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.” Rick turned a grime-smeared face to him, blue eyes almost shocking in all that muck. “I…. Oh fuck, honey. You’re the hurt one.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?” He headed over, sick to his stomach and sliding like he was on one of them fun house dealies. It was fucking ten at night; he was supposed to be in bed, not scared to death and bleeding.
“Well, I can barely feel my feet. What the hell did you do to your chin?” Rick turned the rest of the way around, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Christ that was cold.
“I fell. Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Why are you so fucking cold, darlin’?” He reached out and tugged Rick close, muscles screaming at him.
“I let the dogs out. I came back in to get towels. When I went back out, Boss had gotten hung up in the fence. You know how he puts his head through?”
“Oh shit. That stupid fucking mutt. How long’d it take you?”
Grinning through chattering teeth, Rick shook his head. “I dunno. I fell a couple times.” Then Rick’s eyes widened, a curse exploding out of that pretty mouth. “Shit! You’re home. Finally. Fuck me. Jesus, Billy, you must be dead. Here, sit down.” Rick guided him to the toilet, where the lid was down and a clean towel lay draped across.
He just sat and blinked. Okay.
Okay.
Either Rick had been drinking. Or the ice had addled the man.
Something.
Because, damn.
“You need a shower, darlin’? Warm up? I gotta get the dogs in and the doors shut.”
“I’ll do that. I forgot I left them.” Rick finally smiled, looking a little more settled, a little less like he’d had an extra bowl of crazy for breakfast. “I’m sorry, honey. I was so fucking cold; I had to get in and get those clothes off. You stay right there.”
Oh. That was more like the Rick he knew.
He nodded and waited for Rick to get out of the way before he tried to stand up and get naked without blood getting into his boots.
“I’ll be right back, man.” Rick looked like some kind of crazy patchwork quilt, all old towels and a ratty bathrobe Billy thought he’d thrown out a year ago.
“’Kay.” Man, the place was…. “Damn.”
He used his shirt to swipe up mud until he realized he was smearing blood in with the dirt, which made him queasy as hell.
Rick came back, slipping and sliding on the tile. “Billy? I got the dogs in the mudroom. Locked ’em in. Let me get another towel.”
“Careful. It’s slick.” He still wasn’t sure how the mud got everywhere….
“I know. I kept sliding and falling down. My feet are pretty numb.”
As soon as the worst of the mud was up, Rick started the shower, hot water billowing out. Oh… steam.
He headed over, blinking a little slow, like his eyes were sorta froze. “Hey. You scared me, man.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Rick’s hands still felt frozen and clumsy as all hell. “Your back must be killing you. Come on. In.”
“Been a day.” Hell, he hadn’t eaten since he left at four this morning. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. He thought he might sleep ’til lunch and then con Rick into cooking waffles. Waffles and sausage with fluffy eggs. He looked at the tub.
At his legs.
At the tub.
Man, they needed a shorter bathtub….
“Honey? What do you need?” Letting go, Rick moved away and stripped off the layers of crap, rinsing his hands off before coming back to move him slow and sure.
“Sorry. I zoned out.” He got in the tub, ducking his head and letting the water hit him square. Oh, massaging heads were proof that God loved rednecks and needed them to be happy.
“Oh, Bill. Look at your poor back. It’s all knotted up.” Well, sure it was; coming home from a long-ass drive and finding your door wide open and your lover covered in mud and bruises did that.
Not to mention the whole fun house, slippy-slidy thing. Man, they needed to move to the Valley. They could grow grapefruit and drink mescal with the locals.
“Honey?” Rick was staring away, eyebrows all bendy.
“It’s been a day.” Wait. Had he said that already?
“You’re scaring me a little, honey.” Rick turned him around to wash his chest, staring right at him, looking worried as hell. Man had a shiner that wouldn’t quit, now that the mud was off.
“Rick? What happened to your face?” That wasn’t the fucking dogs….
“Um. I don’t want to tell you.” Rick wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, but at least that was honest enough.
“Well, that’s fair, but I reckon I should know if you’re tying it up for fun or if someone’s been a fuckhead.”
See him. See him work on his reasonable bone.
“Charlene called. That skanky man of hers was fixing to rough her up. I stopped by on the way home….”
Oh.
Oh, that motherfucker.
Billy growled, hands clenched into fists. “It’s bad enough that shitty son of a bitch makes the girls cry and that your stupid sister lets him be evil, but it’s a complete other deal for that piece of shit fuckhead to be hitting on you! I’ll go over there and rip off his arm and shove it up his ass.”
“Billy.” Rick grabbed him when he would have crawled out of the tub. “Charlene’s at Momma’s, and he’s headed off God knows where.”
“Well….” His hands just creaked, muscles popping all over. “Tell me you kicked his ass.”
“I wiped the fucking floor with him.” Rick sounded savagely pleased, so it had to be the truth.
“Good.” Pride filled him, and he nodded, satisfied, bone-deep. “That all you’re hurt?”
“My knuckles a little.” Once he settled back in the shower, Rick got him soaped up and started massaging his back.
“Mmm.” He leaned hard, eyes closing as he started loosening up a little.
“That’s better, honey,” Rick said, digging in with strong thumbs. “Your poor back.”
“Rick.” Oh, he was keeping the fine son of a bitch.
“Uh-huh. I’m sorry I stressed you out, honey.” A soft kiss brushed the nape of his neck. “What do you want for supper?”
“You eat yet?”
“No. Did you?”
“Not since breakfast. Y’want to?”
“Yep.” Rick pressed against his back, hugging him tight. “Better?”
“I think I’ll live. Christ. Tell me tomorrow’s Saturday?”
“It is, and I have the day off.” Oh, that sounded good. They could snuggle a bit, maybe.
“Oh. Perfect. Me too.” Well, duh. He always had weekends off.
Usually Rick did too, but sometimes he had to make up for rain delays and shit. So go them. Rick turned off the water, the steam keeping them warm while they dried off.
“You want to clean the mud tonight or in the morning?” He could probably handle it.
Maybe.
If not, he’d just collapse, which worked.
“I tell you what. You go get the coffee and some whiskey and have a sit, and I’ll mop up. Then we can have some food.” Wrapping him in the good robe, Rick gave him a big old smacker of a kiss.
“You’re a good man, Rick darlin’. I swear to God.”
He hugged real quick and went to find them both something cozy and warm.
Billy could hear Rick whistling and the dogs barking along, like a chorus. It made him chuckle while he moved around the kitchen. The mud brigade caught up with him, Rick mopping and scrubbing and wiggling.
The smell of the coffee perked him right up. Well, that might’ve been part the sight of Rick’s ass, but the coffee didn’t hurt. Neither did the cookie he grabbed from the jar.
The mud still showed around the edges when Rick was done, but it would. Boss and Moose came over for scratches once Rick let them in and rubbed them down, and the freezing rain was out there, not inside, so things were looking up.
“You want me to make some eggs, honey?” He poured them both a cup with a liberal shot. “We got them froze biscuits.”
“Mmm. Biscuits.” Nodding, Rick handled the freezer and the tinfoil and the toaster oven. Breakfast for supper was a favorite for them.
He found some sausages and got them going before digging out the eggs and the butter and milk.
They moved around each other, bumping hips and laughing at how clumsy Rick was for someone who worked with his hands. Rick grinned over at one point, shiner blue and purple. “You know what Charlene tried to pull while I was there?”
“She tried to get you to unclog her toilet or start her furnace?”
“No. She wanted to show me the setup for her next party.” Shaking his head, ears red, Rick slapped butter in the pan for him. “She’s got to find someone else to bond with.”
He snorted a little. “So? Did she have anything good for fishing?”
“No. She had this thing that was made out of glass, Billy. This thing that you put… there.” Lord, the man was gonna go up in smoke, blushing.
“Glass? For fucking? No shit? Glass?” He sorta stared. “Ain’t that dangerous, darlin’?”
“I would think so. Charlene says it won’t break, but I was thanking God they’re so expensive, so she wouldn’t try to get me to take one….” The eggs started to sizzle, smelling a little done.
“Are they clear?” He rescued the eggs and turned the meat. Glass. Lord.
That would be….
Ew.
“They’re all coloredy. Purple and blue and swirly….” Rick turned those baby blues on him, like a goat looking at a new fence. “Can you imagine?”
“Darlin’, you know I’d do anything for you, but…. No. I cain’t. I’d be too busy worryin’ about it breaking important bits of us to feel like sex.”
The horrified look Rick gave him had him hooting. “God no, Bill. I ain’t asking to try. That’s just wrong. No matter who does it.”
Billy nodded and slid the sausage patties onto a plate. “You know it. I reckon we’ve got enough to play with for a while, what with the dogs and the mud and the odds and ends she brought us.”
He got a sideways glance, Rick nodding slowly. “Yeah. I figure we’re not the right test market, you know?”
“Oh, we had some fun, honey, we did.” He rolled his shoulders, the muscles so much better now. “But they ain’t nothing but geegaws; they ain’t real.”
They weren’t them.
“Nope.” The stove clicked off, Rick pushing the eggs onto a plate and setting the pan aside before coming to wrap around him, warm now, all flannel and soap-scented skin. “I got what I need right here.”
“Mm-hmm.” He lifted his face for a kiss. “We’re all good, Rick. Mud and dogs and all.”
The rest could stay in the box beneath the bed. They didn’t even need it for a rainy day like today.
They needed to get on with the business of living.