THE crunch of tires on gravel and ice surprised Ford. He heard it from the bathroom, where he’d just turned on the shower. Helping with the feeding had left him frozen near to death. Damn it. Couldn’t be Ty. He wouldn’t be in for another two days….
Ah, screw it. Stoney was in the kitchen. He could handle whoever it was for a few minutes, right?
If it was a guest, they’d be coming to the office anyway. He was fairly sure even the one family they had booked was going to cancel with the current forecast.
Ford stepped into the steamy shower, glad he’d gone ahead and put in another water heater. He was upgrading all sorts of mechanical and system type stuff a little at a time. There wasn’t all that much. Hell, Stoney was a methodical man who kept things running.
He just needed help with the bigger picture. Ford was super strong at the overview, at making things new.
They hadn’t managed to hook up yet. Quartz had been stuck in the house and needing attention, and Ford had a couple of deals that had gone to hell. However, every time their eyes met, that spark flared to life again.
Hope was a relatively new emotion for Ford. He tended to think it was cruel. Stoney gave him hope, though, now that Ford knew the full story of the past. Hell, it felt a lot like Stoney had been waiting for him all these years.
His finger traced the same pattern Stoney’s had that night in the barn, his body tightening at the memory. God, he wanted that body, that smile. He wanted to see if Stoney was braver now, or if he’d still be oddly shy.
Now was not the time, though. Not even for a happy fantasy jack off. Who knew who was out there?
He had to admit that he was a little worried about leaving a certain Texan cowboy out there to deal with some hotshot from Aspen. If one of his business contacts showed up and Stoney said the wrong thing…. It wasn’t a trust issue. This was more that Stoney wasn’t a people person.
He dried off, then dragged on a pair of jeans and a turtleneck, a heavy pair of socks and his boots. The heat was something Stoney wanted to work on naturally, supplementing with woodstoves and some solar, but in the meantime, Ford was freezing his ass off. His adobe walls in Santa Fe held in the heat so much better.
Maybe he’d go home for a few days, soon. Enjoy the farolitos, the hot chocolate, the pinyon smoke on the air.
Right on the heels of that thought, though, was that if he did go, he would need to take Stoney and Quartz at least, and maybe Geoff. Then where would that leave his open house in mid-December?
Maybe he’d go in January, after all.
Ford combed his hair, which was getting a bit long, and splashed on some smell good. He chuckled, because he’d stopped doing that when he went to college. Once a rancher, always one, right?
He heard soft laughter as he moved toward the kitchen. “…no ma’am. It’s not usually quite so busy in here, but with the holidays, Geoff, our head chef, is on fire.”
Ford paused, peering around the doorjamb into the kitchen, trying to stay out of sight.
“And you have a dining room?” the slight lady with the teased hair asked.
“We have a family dining room, yes, but we’re planning a big old space for parties, for get-togethers. I imagine it’ll open up this summer, just in time for weddings.”
Was that his Stoney? Ford watched him charm the lady who’d dropped in, smiling and giving her the ten-cent tour.
“Would you like to see the main guest cabin?” Stoney asked. “Ford, that’s Tyson’s nephew, has done it up Santa Fe style in the last month. We’ve also gone really energy efficient. I see you got your good snow boots on.”
“I’d love to, Mr. River.”
“Oh, ma’am, call me Stoney. Please. We’ve had our handshakes and howdies. Let me see if Miss Miranda is available to walk with us. She’s a sweetheart and the lady you’ll speak with on the phone should you call. She loves to put a face with a name.”
Oh good man. Stoney managed to get Miranda to come with them so no one would feel uncomfortable while making it clear that wasn’t why he was doing it at all. Classy.
Stoney headed toward the back door, pulling on his coat. “Maybe Geoff will be back when we swing by and we can try a pastry.”
Ford bit back a chuckle. Stoney had said that loud enough for Ford to hear, so he needed to rustle up Geoff and get some coffee going.
He texted Stoney with “on it” and then texted Geoff.
“On my way,” Geoff texted back, so Ford tackled the espresso machine.
Geoff came running, man bun flopping. “Dude. No. You are totally not cleared to touch. Not notty not not. Hands off my baby.”
“But you need to produce buns. Croissants. Something.” He’d been a barista once, in grad school.
“I have cherry danish or cinnamon buns I can heat up. Who is she?”
“No idea. My guess is local reporter or Chamber of Commerce for Carbondale or Glenwood. Too old-school and Western for Aspen.”
She reminded Ford of his gran, in fact.
“Ah. Then cinnamon buns. Cherry can get messy.”
“I like that you have a stock.”
Geoff herded Ford to a stool. “Hunters. You never know when they’ll get frustrated and want to come back to civilization. I prefer fresh, but I always have something to defrost.”
Ford shook his head. “I can help.”
“This is what I live for.”
“Okay, but I’m here for you, man.” Ford grinned. Sooner or later, someone would want him to assist.
“Grab some plates for me?”
“You got it.” Geoff had amassed a ridiculous array of weird china plates, apparently from yard saling with Angie. He pulled out several, checking for chips.
“There are some doilies too, but I’m always afraid that reads old queen to people.”
Jesus, Geoff was a dork.
“I think we’ll settle for the good plates. Maybe a cake plate for your creations. I might qualify as old, but not you.”
“Shit. You’re what? Thirty-three like the boss? We might not have been in high school together, but it’s close.”
“Uh-huh. You’re still young enough for optimism and all that shit.” Ford grabbed pretty coffee mugs. Teacups seemed too dainty.
“Yeah, but I saw you in the barn. You have hope.”
The sadness in Geoff’s voice would have surprised him except that Stoney’s story was still fresh in his brain. Found beaten half to death for daring to be caught gay.
Ford surprised himself, and Geoff, by giving the guy a spontaneous hug. “Don’t give up, buddy.”
“I’m cool. My body’s a temple, you know?”
Right. A temple. Fuck that shit.
Ford blinked at himself. Now that wasn’t a very understanding thought. That sounded like Stoney. When you lived like a cowboy, he guessed.
“Temples get worshipped,” Ford quipped. “Now, coffee.”
“Macchiato? Latte? Americano?”
“Let me text Stoney.”
It took no time for the answer of “caramel lattes if cherry. If cinnamon, Mexican mocha.”
Okay, this was moving from impressive into absolutely adorable. These two clearly had a guest routine, and it was totally working for Ford. He just needed to capitalize on it.
Geoff made coffees, and Ford watched, wheels turning in his brain.
Voices sounded, and then the trio appeared, both women laughing, Stoney taking coats. “Oh, y’all. Here are the other two hooligans I was telling Miss Val about. This is Geoff, the best chef on the Western Slope, and this is the new co-owner of the ranch, Ford Nixel. Y’all, this here’s Miss Val from The Sentinel over in Grand Junction, just to chat with us.”
“Well, good morning, Miss Val,” Geoff said, a heart-melting smile on his face. “I hope you like cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh, I adore them. I swear, you are the most accommodating place. There are good bones here, stunning views.”
“Stoney’s done a great job maintaining the integrity of the ranch,” Ford said, holding out a hand. “We’re working on the next level now.”
She took his hand, obviously at ease and primed for his sale of the new things he had planned. Ford was frickin’ impressed. Stoney knew his shit.
Ford smiled. “Have a seat. You have to try Geoff’s rolls and coffee.”
By the time the food was oohed and aahed over and the lattes—complete with hearts in the crema, thank you very much—were devoured, Miranda had an Easter egg hunt booked, a glowing article assured, and the name of a contact for advertising in the paper.
Stoney quietly did dishes and refilled coffees while Ford talked solar energy and cisterns, and Geoff promised to share his icing recipe with the food editor.
All in all, Ford thought it went really well.
“Mr. Stoney,” Val said as the cowboy was helping her with her coat. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you drove up. Next time I’m down in the Junction to visit, we should have lunch together. You can show me around some.”
She blushed and fluttered, the gentle flirting just perfect. “Well, you have my card. Mr. Nixel, I hope I’ll get an invite to the open house.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ford agreed. “I’ll send those invites out just after Thanksgiving.”
“Perfect. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll walk you to your car. There’s a touch of ice.”
“So kind.” Miss Val took Stoney’s arm, and they walked out.
Ford shook his head. “Stoney’s really good at that.”
They didn’t even pretend to not know what he was talking about.
Miranda nodded, her wild red hair flying everywhere. “That man loves people, and it shows. You hear cowboy and you think ‘alone on the prairie,’ but Stoney gets guests in here and he comes to life.”
“We have a lot of repeat families, thanks to him,” Geoff agreed. “He’s just not an innovator.”
“He’s fine like he is.” Magical, even. Ford could feel ideas building in his brain like rainbow-colored bubbles.
“Geoff?” Quartz came in, holding a broken plate in his hands, eyes down. “I dropped this on the floor. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, buddy. That’s okay. You know why?” Geoff took the pieces, carefully examining Quartz’s hands in the process.
“’Cause you’re not mad?”
“No, because you told me instead of hiding it. Stuff breaks, but you have to be honest about it. I’m proud of you.”
“Yes, sir. Can I have the broom? There’s some sharp bits.”
“You bet. Be super careful, okay?” Geoff handed over the broom.
Mira popped the last bite of pastry into her mouth. “Gotta get back to the office. Payroll to run.”
“Everybody wants their preholiday checks,” Geoff said. “You staying for Thanksgiving?”
“Nope. Boyfriend is meeting the parents.”
“Neat! Have fun.”
Ford winked at Geoff. “I’ll be here. I expect all the trimmings.” He knew Geoff had been experimenting for days. Weeks.
“You, me, Angie and Hetty, both the wranglers, Quartz and Stoney, and I think the Hollisters are coming too. She’s got a brand-new baby, and Stoney told them to bring the kids and let us cook.”
“I don’t think Ty will make it,” Ford said, keeping his voice low. “Sophia is iffy anyway, and the weather is bad.”
“He’ll come before Christmas, and we’ll have a thing, huh?”
“Oh, that ought to make Quartz happy, right?”
“What should?” Stoney asked, slipping back into the room and rubbing his hands to warm them.
“Ty coming out before Christmas, but after Thanksgiving.”
“As long as Quartz gets to see him, we’ll be cool. I already explained about the weather, and he’s tickled his Uncle Ford is here.” Stoney winked at Ford as if to say he didn’t get that at all.
“Yeah, yeah.” Quartz was different from other kids Ford knew, not that he knew many. Most of his buddies in Santa Gay were double income, no kids types.
He had to wonder what they’d say, if they saw him now.
They would probably tease him unmercifully, but he really found he didn’t care. Not with Stoney grinning at him like that.
“Daddy? Are you busy? Can you come listen to me read?”
Stoney nodded. “I can. Then you can come help me feed.”
“Uncle Ford helped!”
“Not with the cows out in the high pasture.” Stoney rolled his eyes. “Little shit.”
“That’s deep snow out there, huh?”
“Yeah, we’ll whistle them down. They’ll come.”
Ford nodded. “Holler if you need help. I could play a cowboy on TV, at least.”
“Will do.” Stoney patted him on the arm, the act just as natural as breathing. They’d touched a lot more in the last few days than they had when they were together, even. Both older, maybe, more comfortable in their skin.
Maybe they were both just home.
The thought made Ford stop, blink. Home.
He’d thought that was a condo in Aspen or an adobe off Canyon Road in Santa Fe.
Ford was beginning to think it was more than that.