CURTIS SET the alarm on his phone so he wouldn’t sleep in and make Stetson do all the damned work this morning.
He still managed to miss a good many of the chores, judging from the fact that Stetson was gone when he got up and still wasn’t back after he had a shower and tugged on every bit of clothing he owned.
Jesus, was the furnace broke or just….
Fifty. The thermostat was set to fucking fifty.
Curtis stood in the hallway, torn. Stetson had his pride, and obviously he was having trouble making ends meet. That was clear as glass. But damn. Curtis turned it up to sixty-two. Happy medium.
“Shit, it’s bitter out there.” He heard Stetson stomping and clearing his boots of snow, and then he heard Stetson chuckle softly. “You pups hang out and I’ll find everyone a couple more blankets.”
Curtis moved to the kitchen and the coffee maker, which, wow. Ancient. Gross. Okay, he needed to make a trip to Target down in Santa Fe. Was there a Target in Española? He couldn’t remember. “Morning, Roper.”
“Hey, cowboy, you sleep good? Everyone’s fed and snuggled up out there.”
“I did. You need me to help with the dogs?”
“Nah, I’m just going to make sure they’ve got enough to keep warm. Fixin’ to dump snow again this afternoon.”
“It’s amazing up here. Shit, I’d forgotten the winter.” He’d acclimatize again, but right now he needed to carb load and mainline water.
Stetson chuckled for him, then disappeared into Miss Betty’s part of the house and returned with a pile of old blankets. “You want to start coffee, and I’ll bring in some wood.”
“I’m on it. You want pancakes for breakfast?” He knew he’d gotten all the stuff last night.
“Oh, that would be a blessing. Please, thank you.”
“You got it.” Coffee. Pancakes. Chicken sausage. He snagged Stetson for his good morning kiss because he wanted one.
“Oh—” Stetson’s lips were icy, but the kiss wasn’t. Not at all.
No, the contact warmed up real quick, Stetson wrapping those long arms around his neck and holding on. He hummed, a happy noise that kinda surprised him.
He stepped right into the curve of Stetson’s body, holding them tight together. They both tilted their heads the other way, the kiss going deep in another direction.
Jesus. Good morning to him. He worked the buttons of Stetson’s shearling coat open, hunting that tight body that waited for him. Life was short. He was gonna start with dessert first.
“Curtis! It’s morning!”
“Mmm. Broad daylight, even.” He grinned at Stetson, feeling his face stretch with it. “God, I want to lay you out in the sunshine one day, watch you arch for me.”
Stetson moaned, the sound damn near pained.
“You need loving, Roper. You scream for it.” He nipped Stetson’s exposed skin, just above the starched shirt collar.
“For you. I need your loving. No one else’s.”
“Now, that’s the perfect thing to hear.” He smiled up at Stetson, tickled to death.
“Just the truth, huh?”
“God.” He kissed that hot mouth again, mainly to keep himself from saying all manner of sappy shit. They were still adjusting.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel sounded, and Stetson sighed. “It’s day five. It’s time, huh?”
“Well, and you were out and about yesterday.” Curtis dropped one more short kiss on Stetson’s mouth. “Lots of coffee. I’ll help any way I can.”
“You are. I’m not very good at this part.”
“Bullshit.” He remembered his Roper out there carving vigas and haggling with folks, about how you couldn’t go to town for a beer without someone wanting Stetson to do something with them.
Hell, he’d been there last night. These folks were ready for Stetson to come back.
Maybe Stetson didn’t think he was ready, but time waited for no man.
The dogs set up a ruckus, so Stetson buttoned back up and stepped outside.
Curtis got to making coffee. They would need it.
The door opened and two women came in, one carrying fry bread, the other a covered dish. “Stetson told us to come in. He’s on the porch with Matt.”
“Hi. I’m Curtis.” Who’s Matt?
“I’m Denita. This is my daughter, Aliya. Matt and Stetson went to high school together. He’s my brother.”
“Oh. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Here, let me take that. Something smells amazing.”
“Just carne adovada.” She smiled, her face changing completely with the expression. “How can we help? Do you know?”
“Not yet. I know he took care of some stuff at the hospital, but I need to make some calls about a service. As far as around here, I think what Stetson really needs is stuff he’s just had to let go with the traveling back and forth. Firewood. Riding fence. Cleaning. That sort of thing.” Was that presumptuous of him?
“Aliya, call Anthony, eh? Tell him that Mr. Stetson needs wood. I’ll tell Gina at the feed store about the fence. We take care of our own. We’re glad he’s home.”
The door opened again, and before Curtis could breathe, there were fifteen women in the house and an equal amount of old men building a fire in the horno outside and pulling up chairs.
One of the older ladies—who looked weirdly like a carved apple person—grabbed his arm, handed him a cup of coffee, and sort of forcibly pushed him out of the house.
“I was gonna make pancakes….” The door shut in his face. “Or not.” He glanced around at the chorus of chuckles he heard from the men.
“Might as well come sit. I’m Darby.” A round man with long braids stood and held out a hand. “The fire is warm, and we have breakfast tacos.”
“I’m Curtis.”
“We know. We heard congratulations are in order. Glad you’re here.”
Suddenly he was sitting in a circle, listening to stories about Betty and Parker Major, about how they’d built the ranch.
“I remember Parker wanted nothing more than to ride, though. I swear to God, I worked with him building this place for six years, but the bulls called him.” Tom Harrison had damn near raised Stetson, and Curtis had always thought, quite privately, that Betty and Tom had been having an affair for years, even before Parker passed.
The man looked old today, lines carved deep in his face, and Curtis reminded himself that Stetson wasn’t the only one mourning Miz Betty.
“It will make a man crazy,” Curtis agreed. “The ride, I mean.”
One of the younger guys with a prosthetic leg and a crew cut grunted. “It’s adrenaline. I know about that.”
The men nodded and murmured, like a group of ravens.
“You in the service?” he asked.
“The 82nd. I was a warrant officer. Came home eight months ago.”
He reached over to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for your service.”
“Miguel Torres.”
“Curtis Traynor.” They nodded like old men sitting around a checkerboard at the feed store. “Someone said tacos?”
“Egg and bacon or egg and sausage?”
“Bacon. Go big or go home, right?”
“Stetson? You ain’t no more than bones and skin. Eat. Eat, now.” That man had to belong to the lady who’d shoved him out the door. Lord have mercy.
“Here, Roper.” Curtis picked two foil-wrapped tacos out of a basket someone shoved at him. “Breakfast.”
Stetson took them, then offered him a smile that he hadn’t seen since Thanksgiving.
This was good. This was what Stetson needed, to know he wasn’t alone. Curtis opened up a taco. “We got any green chile?”
A little tub was tossed at him, and he grabbed it. Someone added another log to the fire. Men left and new ones came, and they sat there, talking and telling stories as the day got colder and colder.
As the clouds rolled in, a huge trailer pulled up, full of firewood and hay, sweet feed and salt licks, and the propane truck showed up a few minutes later.
Curtis stood there, teeth in his mouth. He’d be goddamned.
Stetson got a little wild around the eyes. “What’s going on? Curtis? I didn’t order a feed delivery.”
“Don’t worry on it.” Tom patted Stetson’s arm with that three-fingered hand. “We take care of our own.”
There was a crack in Stetson’s armor, his face crinkling up, and everyone looked away. Everyone but Curtis. He got that part of Stetson too.
He touched Stetson’s arm and got a tiny smile.
“I don’t know what to say, guys.”
“How many times have you been out at dawn looking for a horse or fixing a door?” Tom snorted gracelessly. “Hell, you dug out a sewer line for my mama two years ago.”
“Well, she needed it.”
“Right. Now we can do for you.” Miguel thrust a Navajo taco at Stetson. “Shut up and eat lunch so we can go unload.”
“How about we all unload and then have a bite?”
Curtis knew there was no way Stetson was going to let a wounded warrior unload and him sit.
“Sounds good.” Tom climbed to his feet, joints popping like rifle shots.
“Come on, boys! That snow’s not going to wait on us!”
They fell on the pile, unloading and feeding and laughing at each other, their breaths turning to smoke in the cold. Curtis warmed to the whole situation, which was a damn sight like being on tour. Without all the dick measuring.
By the time it was all done, people started heading home, beating the weather, and suddenly it was him and Stetson and Tom, standing there in the kitchen.
“I came to see her, before Thanksgiving, you know, but… she didn’t know me, Stetson. I’ve been her… her friend for thirty-plus years, and she didn’t know me. I didn’t know how to be with that.”
Stetson nodded, jaw tight, but meeting Tom’s eyes. “I know that, Tom. I’m grateful you were her friend. She wouldn’t have wanted you to see her like that.”
“No. No, she probably wouldn’t. She was a proud woman. I just… I feel like shit, not coming more.”
“You fed for me, more than once. You did what needed doing.”
“I wish it had been more.” Tom held out a hand to Curtis, shaking first his, then Stetson’s hand. “If you need me at all, you call.”
“Yessir. You go on. I know you have things to do. This storm’s supposed to be a stone-cold bitch.” Stetson walked Tom to the door, gave the man a back-pounding hug, and then showed him out.
Curtis looked around. The kitchen was spotless, more food than they could ever eat stacked on counters and in the fridge. Funny thing was, he still wanted pancakes.
Stetson locked the door, then moved to put another log on the fire.
Curtis watched him for a few moments, just checking in, seeing how Stetson moved, where his shoulders sat in relation to his ears.
“What a day, huh? Can we still have pancakes, man? Please?”
“I was just going to ask.” Curtis grinned, the pop of worry breaking like a bubble. “I’m still craving.”
“Me too.” Stetson stood up. “I’m going to take off my boots and all, find you some heavy socks.”
“Sounds good.” He headed for the kitchen to start assembling supper. Bowl, milk, eggs, pancake mix. He’d even heat up the syrup.
It didn’t seem long before Stetson’s hands were on his shoulders, a pair of heavy socks and sweats appearing. “I’ll get the griddle out while you change.”
“Thanks, baby.” He sat in the kitchen chair, pretty sure his boots were frozen to his feet. Still, when he took them off, his feet were there and his toes weren’t weird colors. Cool.
“We need to get you better socks.”
“We do. I can get them at the Walmart, but I might need a Target run.”
“That’s in Santa Fe.”
“We can go down, have lunch, come home, and never go near the hospital.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’d love to go to the Plaza and see who’s at the governor’s palace.” Stetson knew every Native American artist from the Four Corners to Oklahoma. Seriously. He loved that, that Stetson believed in the art. Who would believe that about his stern cowboy lover?
Curtis hoped to hell Stetson got back to his wood carving soon. He needed his hands on the wood, making it into what it wanted to be.
“I got the griddle heated up. You want bacon or anything?”
“I was thinking that chicken and sage breakfast sausage, but I’m easy.” He stirred the buttermilk into the mix.
“In the freezer?”
“Yep. We can eat a whole box.”
“A whole box, huh?” Stetson started rummaging.
“Yep. I love that shit.” He’d had bacon for breakfast, and God knew what was in that taco at lunch….
Whatever it was, it had tasted like spicy heaven.
Together they put together a great breakfast for dinner. Buttery, rich, sweet—Curtis felt like he was going to have a foodgasm.
He patted his belly. “That’s probably more than I’ve eaten in one day in three years or more.”
“Me too. It was so good. I love pancakes.”
“God, yes.” He would cheat on his diet for IHOP on the road. “What’s on the agenda tonight, baby? Just resting?”
It had been a long day.
“Sit, rest, watch the snow fall. It’s nice in here tonight, warm.”
“It is.” Jesus, how long had it been since Stetson ran the heat? “All that cooking.”
“Uh-huh. It smells good and everything. Maple syrup candles should be a thing.”
“It totally should.” Maybe it was. His mom loved that candle place in the mall. She bought them in sugar cookie and pumpkin pie smell.
“Thank you for being here, cowboy. I appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I was. You have an amazing group of neighbors.” The stories, the faces…. They’d all fascinated him. He did love a good bullshit session.
Curtis finished drying the last dish. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
“Sounds good.”
There were heavy blankets piled on the sofa, just perfect to snuggle under. Curtis slid deep in the couch cushions and tugged Stetson down before covering them up. Lord, that was nice. Warm, but also cuddly.
“Hey.” Stetson rested against him. “We’re gonna be snowed in, if we’re lucky.”
“Well, we got groceries and wood and feed.” And a Christmas tree that was still in the bag. Tomorrow he would get out the little wreath and some of the goodies.
“What else do we need?”
“Each other.” He was convinced that could cure any ill.
“Romantic.” Stetson kissed his jaw.
“I’m a cowboy. We’re all hearts and roses.” He winked, wrapping an arm around Stetson’s shoulders.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You better, baby. I’m also into sex.” He wanted to make Stetson laugh out loud.
“Hearts, roses, fucking.” The soft chuckles started. “Anything else?”
“Mmm. Bacon. But sparingly. And you know my secret obsessive food.”
“Sopapillas. With extra honey,” Stetson said immediately.
“Uhn.” He wasn’t even hungry and he would eat those.
“See? I know all.”
“You do.” He leaned over to take a long, slow kiss. “There’s no one I’d rather be snowed in with, Roper.”
Stetson reached up to touch his cheek. “Ditto, cowboy. It’s really coming down. I think it will happen.”
“I can’t wait to see it in the morning.” Curtis grinned. “Though I have some thoughts about the kind of snuggling we can do in bed tonight.”
“Perv.” From the light in Stetson’s eyes, though?
His cowboy knew exactly what he was thinking.